It will be fine’ I said. ‘It won’t be a problem’
Well, that’s what I thought anyway.
Last Saturday I volunteered to have two of my godchildren to stay overnight.
As I don’t yet have chidren of my own, I am most people’s first port of call for babysitting.
I really do try to do my bit, which can be difficult given just how many people I know with children!
So last weekend I volunteered to have our friends’ two children – a little girl who is nearly three and a boy who is nearly two.
Now I made this offer without really consulting my husband Matt, who had already booked up for a poker night with the boys and to watch the boxing.
Although he did offer to cancel said evening, I insisted it would be absolutely fine and I could manage myself.
Ah. If only hindsight was something you could actually use to turn back time.
From the moment our friends dropped off the children at 5.30pm to the time I put them to bed at 8.30pm, the little boy did nothing but cry.
By 8pm I wanted to cry. I can absolutely understand now why the sound of children crying is often used in military interrogation to get people to crack.
It really is one of the worst sounds on the planet.
Getting them to sleep was no problem – they both went straight down without a fuss.
The problem was one of them was in our spare room and the other was in the lounge, which meant I had nowhere to go and nothing to watch given that the TV in our bedroom doesn’t yet have Sky.
So at 8.30pm on a Saturday night I went to bed. I was not impressed.
Come 1am ,which was the time my husband strolled in, I was well and truly wound up.
Somehow I fell back to sleep until 6am, which is when the children wanted to wake up.
Matt got up with them so I could go back to sleep and when I woke up and emerged at 8.30am, they were cuddled up happily with him on the sofa, smiling, laughing and looking at him adoringly.
JUST ANOTHER WAY TO SQUEEZE MONEY OUT OF THE LITTLE GUYS
I was very disappointed to hear the news this week about the proposed national insurance hike for people who are self-employed.
Not just because I’m self-employed, but because it’s just another example of how the government is trying to squeeze more money out of the ‘little guys’ – i.e me!
I know it’s not personal, but anyone who is self-employed will tell you being your own boss, responsible for absolutely every single thing, is blooming tough.
On the whole you get no holiday pay, no sick pay, no bank holidays, no pension scheme.
Then there’s all that stress on your shoulders year in, year out.
It winds me up royally that, in this country, success seems to be penalised, not celebrated.
I’VE COME TO THE CONCLUSION THAT MY BODY JUST HATES ME
It happens to me every time. I get really into my fitness, build it up to a point where in my eyes I’m ‘smashing it’, then get sick.
This week has been no different. Last week I was on a mission to increase how much I could run per day and keep it up day in, day out.
I ran 21.5 miles in six days. I know it’s not that amazing, but getting out there daily is quite hard.
I was so chuffed with myself that, even after consuming the entire menu at the Red Lounge in Cowplain on Friday, I got up the next day for another run.
However, when I woke up on Monday I experienced the familiar pattern of feeling run-down with cold-like symptoms and generally rough.
I’ve come to the conclusion that my body just hates me...