Just now I ate cake. A nice big fat piece of mudcake. I figured it's better for me to be fat than it is for Georgie to be smacked.
Oh dear. That sounds great doesn't it? But seriously, I love her to death, but oh! She is being such a monkey lately! She has decided that she isn't content with crawling and must now pull herself up on the coffee table, the bookshelf, the bathtub.... anything! And so she is consequently sporting a few little bruises. She is also exceptionally grabby. (Yes that's right, grabby, not grubby!... although she probably is grubby too!) She has little sticky hands that need to grab at anything and everything. She pinches and scratches and snatches. Today I spilled hot milo on her because she cannot let me feed her now without being a part of everything! Don't worry, she's okay- it was only a little bit. But still, oh my goodness!
I just feel.... itchy. Or squiggly. Or antsy..... or something. I don't feel comfortable in my skin and something deep inside of me is screaming 'get out! get out!' I want to run and jump and scream and cry and do everything all at once. Even though there is a little small part of me that is currently giggling at the idea of running and is picturing herself running about 100 meters before collapsing into exhaustion. But still. I just want to get out of me today.
It's amazing to me this mother guilt. I knew about it, but until I experienced it- I just didn't really understand it. I feel guilty. About everything. All. Of. The. Time. For example, right now I am feeling guilty because she's asleep and I have dishes to do, a bed to make and (surprise surprise!) folding to do.
Oh damn. She just woke up.
Stuff it. Right now I'm going to go pick her up, give her a cuddle and then we are going to the pool. The housework will be there tomorrow. And dinner can be scrambled eggs or takeaway. (Shane's choice... ha! so...... takeaway it is). But right now, I am just going to enjoy my daughter.