Quality alone time…

Today I went to the trouble of googling “nunnery and single origin”.

After quickly browsing the suggestions from her Royal Googleness I can confirm that there doesn’t seem to be a convent anywhere that I can join while still being guaranteed good coffee.

Same goes for Netflix.

I have found myself yearning for solitude. Deeply desiring some serious alone time.

Of course I love my family… but I would like the opportunity to love them from a distance.

My husbands work travel starts up again next week with interstate travel booked for the next 4 weeks at least.

Today I wanted to hide in bed and read my book and listen quietly to my thoughts. Instead I drove 2 hours to my nieces 5th birthday party.

Not quite what I had in mind.

I like the idea of joining a nunnery of running away from my many blessings and being in a quiet place.

But I don’t think it works like that.

It’s all the little things that unravel me.

It’s the sports day on Tuesday. The importance of emailing a scanned document that could only be collected during school hours ASAP so that my eldest can attend a maths day at another school on Wednesday.

It’s never knowing what to have for dinner.

One day a couple of weeks ago my son ran in front of a car in the beautiful city of Mont Marte. (Probably not how you spell it.) I was in a bit of shock afterwards and the headache I’d been nursing previously went up to 11.

My husband asked me what I wanted to do. I looked at him and said “Please look after me”.

My shock at the near miss and the emotions that came with it just drained me.

I get so sick of being the one making all the little decisions that make up the day. The thoughts that wake me up at night but keep my family fed and in clean clothes that fit.

I am not joining the nunnery today but I would really like a night to myself.

Preferably catered by someone else.


Truth hurts…

Hello. Me again. Posting two days in a row.

In the UK there is a clothing store chain called Fat Face.

When I first saw it a couple of weeks ago I thought it was a strange name for a store.

Today when I walked into work after having not seen my colleagues for 3 weeks the first thing that one of them said was… and I freaking quote… “Look at your fat face. You’ve put on weight”.

Me: “What? What?”

Her: “Your face is changed. It’s all fat.”

It was at this stage that I was tempted to walk out the door and never return.

My other colleague was back tracking like mad. “You look so healthy. Wow you look so healthy.”

Inside I was a little bit upset.

But I just calmly walked into the kitchen and flicked the switch on the kettle.

See the thing is I don’t think she was trying to be mean. Although this is the same lady who told me I looked like an elephant when I wore wide leg pants.

Different cultures say and mean different things and I think she meant it in a good way.

Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

So maybe my face is retaining fluid from the long flight 3 days ago? Unlikely.

Or maybe the new night cream I started using last night has left me all smooth and wrinkle free after one application? Also unlikely.

But this I know for sure, if you want to know if your bum looks big in something ask my colleague.

She will give you the truth whether you can handle it or not.

In the mean time I’ll be the girl in the bathroom sucking in my cheeks and applying bronzer in such a way that emphasizes my cheek bones.

Yours sincerely Fat Face 😦

The holiday is over baby…

I’m back from my much anticipated holiday.

I’m guessing that coming home and going back to work gets everyone down.

Probably shouldn’t have gone on the holiday in the first place.


We had an amazing time.

When the kids weren’t fighting that is. Which was a lot. But that probably comes from being stuck together all day and night.

I got to hold hands with my kids a lot.

I got to scream loudly on roller coasters.

And mutter rude words under my breath and roll my eyes when we drove the wrong way again.

I ate Welsh cakes in Wales, crepes in France, cheese and jam on toast in Denmark and porridge in a take away cup in the rain in Edinburgh.

We saw lots of old castles and marveled at beautiful green hills.

My youngest son randomly ran off the tube on our first day in London, nearly got hit by a car outside Paris and went up a different escalator to us and ended up on a different platform at a busy train station.

He also refused to walk on the right and walked into every second person on the street and a lady on a scooter.

We lost our eldest son for 10 minutes in a 5 storey toy store.

If I’d been wearing a heart monitor it probably would have shown that it was not the most relaxing holiday.

But we had fun.

It’s strange how you make memories that other people have already made but with your own flavour added to them.

I’m not the first person to see the Mona Lisa or the Eiffel Tower. It’s not a big deal. But it was for me.

I loved walking down cobble stoned streets and it didn’t take long before I would only stop to take a photo of something at least 400 years old.

The history was amazing.

The coffee was bad.

You can’t have good coffee and old buildings apparently.

Probably something to do with the way they store their beans in their drafty castles.

In Paris we ran into the same lady two days in a row near the Louvre which isn’t that strange but we also saw a family at Disneyland that had shared a trampoline with us the day before.

It’s a small world after all.

In Edinburgh the first person I spoke to was Australian. At a cafe in Bath I chatted to a lady that used to live 10 minutes away from us.

Real life is back with full force now.

4 loads of washing done and sorted. Not yet put away but that’s not unusual in our house.

I’ve had an amazing 3 weeks, taken lots of photos and bought more than the usual amount of tacky souvenirs.

If you didn’t get a postcard it was because I didn’t send you one.

But I’m free for coffee again now if you wanna catch up.