This weekend started off with so much promise.
Mark and I, in the spirit of a rare Bill-free Friday, decided to make the most of it and go to our favourite Thai restaurant in our little village. I just wanted to be home. I didn’t want Manchester. I didn’t want to go out exploring, or visit somewhere new, I was happy at home.
We had a really lovely night and had a proper conversation about trying for a baby, rather than a loose mention of ‘the future’. Things are good. He’s my best friend. And I just feel so safe with him.
Plus, I had the best Tom Kah Gai and Beef Massaman going. Plus – the ice cream was incredible. A scoop of coconut, a scoop of rum and raisin and a scoop of banana. I couldn’t finish it all. But goodness.
We curled up afterwards and watched Love Island, with Prosecco (trend) and it was a really nice night.
I feel like I woke up with the sunshine on Saturday, but I know it was due to excitement. Bill was due back and I couldn’t rest. So I crept downstairs and did a little work and put a load of washing on with a cup of coffee.
A familiar car pulled up outside and my heart felt like my heart was going to leap through my chest.
So he was home. And we were all awake. And for a little while it was just simple family life.
I dyed my hair recently – you may have seen on Instagram – and I chose this little kit. I was so nervous as I love my ombré hair, but I really fancied a change. I kept the gradient, but I now have a few golden highlights too. I’m still getting to grips with it, but I think I like it.
And my passport arrived in the post. Which was great news and bad news. Great because I can’t believe it only took five days. And great because now I’m completely ready for holiday in September. But bad because I was expect a fair few items in the post that never arrived.
I mentioned in my latest post, but I had these amazing Father’s Day gifts picked out for my dad and Mark. But I didn’t notice that they had defaulted to my old address for delivery. I emailed the sellers and I visited my old house and left a note, but no one called me back. Which broke my heart and my faith in people a little bit.
I felt so blue. And even though I know that my appreciation for my family is longstanding, I really wanted to let them know I really knew them and I was really grateful for them.
I was marginally cheered up by these tiny newborn clothes. I’m partnering up with M&S at the moment and my goodness are these gorgeous. They’ll be part of a new baby gift idea (coming soon), but realistically, one day, we’ll have a baby tucked up inside them. And that makes my heart very happy.
Shepherd’s Pie – the secret is a little dried mint and red wine. And a breadcrumb, cheddar and time crust on top of the mash.
I haven’t had a lager and lime in a long time. It was really good!
I was hopeful that Father’s Day was going to be a lovely day regardless of gifts. But Bill woke with a fever on Saturday night and we ended up on the phone to NHS Direct. He was so warm and his heart was racing. An out-of-hours GP kept in the loop with us and we managed to lower his temparature eventually. We didn’t sleep until about half-past two in the morning. And I was so tired, but so grateful he was okay.
Mark was amazing and stayed up later, watching the boxing, so he could check on Bill again. I slept fitfully, until we woke around nine o’clock, a cat at the foot of the bed and a little boy who, while warm, seemed much better.
But for the rest of the day? We were tired.
I don’t know how but I managed two more wash loads, hung out on the line. I cleaned and tidied. I made a roast beef dinner, with as many trimmings as I could manage. I spent time with my little guy. And managed to give my dad a big hug.
It wasn’t exactly the stuff of memories. But it reminded me of what actually matters. My carpet has bits all over it. I need to wipe a week’s worth of dust from surfaces. I have clothes to put away and I only found time to shower at 7:00pm.
Bill’s in bed now. A little earlier than usual. Mark is laughing at a comedian I don’t recognise. And I’m sat in my dressing gown, clean, covered in fake tan (I felt like I needed a boost to get me through Monday with confidence) and I am willing my fingers to type faster so I can just rest. There’s a bottle of red on the mantlepiece, with a sparkling wine glass. I can’t wait to pour it. Turn everything off. And just rest.
It wasn’t the weekend I hoped it would be. I’m tired. I’m anxious about the week ahead – Monday and Tuesday is particularly busy and I could do with a day of sleep.
But you know something?
Parenthood is so challenging. Sometimes I feel like I’m running a constant race of hurdles, just so I can get to the finish line and claim I’m still me. And I am. I absolutely am. But things come before me always.
Because I love them far too much to ever put myself first.