We're all allowed a s**t day every now and then

I've had an average of three hours sleep a night since Saturday. I wish I could say I had been partying hard. But alas, no. Today is Wednesday, (I think?).  So that’s 12 hours in total. No wonder I feel like a grumpy-ass-zombie. This time, it is not the kid’s fault. I am trying to write my next book but I keep getting stuck - my protagonist, a frustrated woman in her early 30's - really wants a new life.

 

That's where I get stuck.

 

Surely no one would buy a book about a woman who runs away from children crying in a bathtub, knowing her husband is due home in the next few hours, thinking, "what's the worst that can happen?" No one would buy a book about a woman who packs up everything, including two children but not including the dog, and leaves without so much as a note or a phonecall, not to somewhere exotic but rather to somewhere more mundane and simple. Nope. Not even I would buy that book. Nor do I want that life. Well, not all the time. 

 

Yesterday, ‘life’ felt like it was closing in on me. Momminess was becoming a tiny box and I was chained to the floor of said box, unable to escape. Despite having such amazing children, (and I really mean that,) and despite knowing that I am really blessed beyond imaginings, (and I really mean that too,) every now and then I am allowed to be grumpy.

 

I needed a run. Desperately. These are words I was sure I would never, EVER, utter, but there. I said it. I. Need. A. Run. Just 20 minutes of me, my ipod and some kickass tunes telling me I can be transformed. (Thanks Chris Brown!) It is my time out these days. Lack of sleep or no, I had to do it. 

 

And what a good run it turned out to be! I bumped into about four people I knew, was treated cordially by drivers and fellow road users, and almost worked up an arrhythmia. I remember my dad telling me that, “You never regret the exercise you did do.” Which turns out to be true, I’m finding more and more.

 

When I burst out crying over baking rusks last night because the oven hadn’t done what it was meant to do, my little almost-three-year-old said, “sorry mommy,” which is all it took for my heart to melt. She had seen a rough day happen and knew just what to say. I wish the man at the bank who hadn’t been very helpful had my daughter’s emotional intelligence. And I wish the woman who tried to push me out of the elevator while I was maneuvering a tandem pram, two sleeping children, an arm full of shopping and a handbag slipping down the other arm had my daughter’s sensitivity.

 

But hey, they probably also went home and moaned to their blog-equivilents that there was this crazy woman in the shopping centre today with a tandem pram, two sleeping children etc etc and why didn’t she just stay at home.

 

I guess we all have hard days/hours/weeks… I guess life isn’t always about lemonade and moonbeams. But sometimes, it really can be. Despite the lack of sleep, the grumpiness and the fact that my new book isn’t writing itself based on what I think it should say, today could have been a lot worse. Maybe it was the run that fixed it all and started it off on a good vibe? Perhaps I should start tomorrow off in my takkies too… and for good measure, push along the tandem pram.