I've had a weird day. Something's out of whack.
It's like I've not quite woken up from that 'between sleep and waking' feeling you get when you come around from a deep sleep.
The kids slept last night, I staggered around for a bit this morning, managed to take Lily swimming (somehow) then went back to bed for a few ... HOURS! (Thanks Ray).
It wasn't just the deep sleep of the generally exhausted (I'm used to that). This was a complete compulsion to sleep, and one that I'm fighting with difficulty now. In fact, as I drifted off this afternoon, I had a strange feeling that I might wake up in hospital... or not at all.
In reality, I was woken up by Lily, peering into my face and telling me that Timmy had hit her and daddy wouldn't let her watch 'Tom and Jerry.'
In the absence of any other symptoms, I'm going to assume that I've been gifted one of the kids' recent viruses, and that I'll probably shake it off in a day or so.
But it's weird - with most illnesses (mild ones) as an adult, you know what you're dealing with. Sore throat - probably 3 days, cold, a couple of weeks maybe, but only a day or so of "hell" (after which it's just inconvenient).
This strange lurgy is uncharted territory. I sleepwalk through most days as it is... but I can't afford to actually sleep!
The good news from the weekend is that I finally exposed my wobbly flesh to the world! No... no, it is a good thing! "Bare" with me...
OK, it wasn't "the world" and it wasn't "all" my flesh.
Alright, alright, I just went to the swimming pool - OK?
But for me - a MAJOR breakthrough. I sourced a swimming costume that hid as many sins as possible without being a wetsuit, and finally took Lily to Eymoutiers swimming pool.
And I wasn't embarrassed of my wobbly bits.
This was helped by the fact that, apart from two lifeguards and a receptionist, the pool was empty.
In years gone by I was always so body conscious, which meant I ran and exercised myself into as toned a state as possible.
In years gone by, I'd always waited until things were perfect.
Now, I've realised that being a perfect (or good enough) mother is about doing it anyway.
The fact I went to bed for about three hours afterwards is neither here nor there...!