If I Close My Eyes, It Will All Be A Horrible Dream

Challenging weekend at Tantrum Towers. Day of introspection yesterday, caught up on all of your new posts, decided to have an early night. I need an early night. Tomorrow, I am in a 2 day planning meeting. Yes, 2 day. Not 2 hours, but 2 days. It involves things like Powerpoint presentations, flipcharts, and my personal favourite, focus groups.

Good grief.

Anyway, son returned, flushed with success, from swimming gala, having successfully reached the final in the breaststroke. Hurrah! Am reliably informed he needs to practice diving off blocks, because at the moment it's all a bit belly flop. But hurrah him! So, an early night was in order. Collapsed into my bed, fell fast asleep, awakened some hours later by son pattering into my room.

'Can I come in with you? I have tummy ache'

'Yes of course'

There is shuffling, rearrangement of pillows, liberal application of stuffed toys (mine & his, sadly) and I close my eyes again. Then whip them open.

'Do you feel sick?'

'No. Just tummy ache'

Ah. That's all right then. eyes closed. Ten minutes later, he is in the bathroom, retching. He comes back to bed.

'Are you OK now?'

'Yes thanks, mummy. I feel better now.'

Fabulous. Then I shall go back to sleep.

Thirty minutes later, he has been sick in my bed, on my carpet, and in the toilet. Fortunately, he has not been sick on me. There is liberal cleaning, and no swearing. Not even in my head. I may have been cleaning in my sleep. The sickness continues at 30 minute intervals through the night, so I give up sleep, & come in here.

(Apologies to those people, if I left a sleepy comment on your blog)

Of course, in the wee small hours, there is always space for a bit more introspection, so I designed some questions to see if I can be his friend again.

Q1/ Can I be his friend again?
Yes, in a heartbeat.

Q2/ Would I be able to go out in the evening for a drink & not hope for something else?
Um, close. But maybe not quite yet.

Q3/ How would I feel if I learned tomorrow that he was dating?
Like ripping his head off. Then stamping on it. Then crying. Mixed in with wanting him to be happy.

Q4/ Could I go to his wedding?
Yes I could. I would wear a beautiful dress, a stylish hat, evocative perfume. When it got to the bit about people being able to object, I would throw myself into the aisle, and wail 'It was meant to be me! It was meant to be me! How can it not be me!'

Am thinking I'm not quite ready yet.

But getting there.

Now you must excuse me. I think I need to scrub the carpet again.