And normal service is resumed. Thank the lord. First day of term for my four, first day of recovery for me.
They had a good Christmas, Papa joined us and it was fine, new toys were pieced together and then promptly broken or discarded and I could usually be found in a small dark corner of the kitchen dipping yet another piece of festive shortbread into yet another cup of tea. It was either that or take up lunchtime drinking. The days were long. God, they were long.
We managed to move on from tellygate though I couldn’t help but keep reminding poor Louis just how naughty he’d been and how if anyone ever dared throw anything at the TV ever again then that would be IT. Quite what IT was I’m not sure but I spoke with total conviction and the children seemed a tiny bit afraid which gave me a tiny bit of pleasure. I’m kidding..a tiny bit.
And New Year’s Eve was lovely. An evening with the best of friends and not too much time spent on the melancholy thoughts that can often take hold as Jool’s starts the ten, nine, eight…
I’ve decided that 2013 will be a good year. A strong year. A little less strain and struggle and a few more oohs and aahs. Why shouldn’t it be a good year? Okay so I’ll still be permanently knackered, my children will no doubt continue to run rings around me and I’m sure there will be challenges every now and again but if it’s okay with you world, not like before.
It would be very much appreciated if life could be really good for a bit. And if it can’t be really good then I’ll happily settle for it being a bit dull. Boring even. Anything other than drama and crisis. Goodbye adrenaline, farewell fight or flight, you’re SO last year…
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