Junior made it through lunch to have a long nap today.

On one level, I was delighted, I had stuff I wanted to write and as I’d been walking with him in the buggy for two hours this morning, I was, frankly, a tadge pooped.  Writing aside, a sit down with a cup of tea, the first catch up on my blog for months and other general on line timewasting was also on the cards.

First, though, a lot of chores to do.

You can guess the rest can’t you?

Yeh, chores done, bum on sofa for approximately one millisecond and the wee man wakes up.  Am I refreshed and ready for an afternoon of stimulating and enthusiastic child care for the little fella?

No.

Ah.

The thing that really gets my goat is that if I could manage to put a load of washing on without every single fricking shirt, pair of pants or sock turning itself inside-out I’d save the futile ten minutes I spend reversing them, in hope, before I put them in and the other twenty minutes (takes longer when they’re damp) I spend reversing the little bastards, again, when I come to put them on the line.

Ah-ha!  I hear you say.  Why not put them in the washer inside-out, then they’ll turn the right way round.

Alas, no.  The little bleeders simply remain reversed. ‘Still, I suppose it’d save me 10 minutes of completely pointless, if hopeful, activity.

Then there’s the unco pegging.  How much of a monumental spacker can a person be at putting out washing?  Can I not peg out a line in under about fifteen minutes and after 12 years of marriage can I not manage to peg out a sheet flat, first time, rather than twisted in the middle?

No.

Arse.

Half an hour to clear up lunch, half an hour phaffing about trying to find the last pillow case which, of course, had got lost in the bottom of the duvet… half an hour washing my hair – total waste of time, frankly, it still looks crap and it’ll need doing again tomorrow – and bang the little man’s awake.

On the up side, he’s burbling right now so I should get 10 minutes to regenerate and do this before I need to slip back into Mother Mode and nip upstairs.

That’s what being a mum does, it gives you OCD about minutes, nay seconds of your time.  You resent the time it takes you to have a wee… It’s completely hilarious how mad you become… however much you actually enjoy the child care bit – and Mini BC and I have a great time together – you get totally obsessive about the minutes you have to yourself.

Strange.

It’s fun though.  Watching a one year old go about his daily business is very amusing.  They are such eccentric little creatures… or maybe that’s just mine!

On a work note.  The book got another rejection.  Pants!  Started to send it to agents in April, I’ve only done three.  I’m going to be about ninety six before I’ve got through the first stage (agents saying no) and onto the second stage (submission to all and any publishers likely to be interested – at the same time, thank god) and get down to the third and final stage, which is what I know I will actually have to do, publishing it myself.