I've been away for 4 whole days...

... so how it come it feels like only 4 hours?

In any case, my brain is fried, so for a far more interesting post than this one I suggest you pop on over to The Iota Quota where my good bloggy friend Iota (who, thanks to the wonder that is Cybermummy, I have met in person, and who is just as lovely and entertaining as you might imagine), has written about where blogging is taking her now.

Oh, and you could also click on over to take a look at In The Powder Room, the fabulous progeny of Powder Room Graffiti and Mums Rock who have recently joined forces. I don't have a new post up there (although I do have some old ones), so this is not in any way a sponsored pointer. Just some recommended reading in case you're not keen on what's on the box this evening. Go on - you won't regret it...

My weekend...

'Nuff said.

(Although... don't hold me to that. More sick-making posts on my 3 days out may follow...)

You can have your cake, and eat it too...

Something's wrong. I am going away, on my own, for 3 days, am leaving the house in 40 minutes and I have time to write a blog post.

Admittedly, the Boys are both in school today, so I have been able to go about my preparations unconcerned by requests for biscuits, hot chocolate, biscuits AND hot chocolate, a story, a game, to be a monster, to be a monster making hot chocolate, to play trains, to bring the train set downstairs, for the computer, for the DS, for some television, for a dvd if they can't have the television, for some cake, to MAKE a cake, to be a monster making cake, and so on.

But still. An uninterrupted morning in which I have made the boy's breakfast and lunch, done the school run, dropped Husband to the station, battled with traffic, paid a visit to the kiosk to put some money on my phone, packed, unpacked, packed again, tried my ski boots on, realised they still feel like leg-irons, checked my e-mail, written a blog post (almost), made bolognese sauce for the starving hordes to eat whilst I'm away, done the laundry, written long lists of probably completely unnecessary instructions for Husband (I knew things had gone too far when I found myself about to suggest sandwich fillings for school lunch tomorrow) filed a long-overdue tax return, and made a cake.

And now it's 25 minutes and counting until I set off on my trip.

Actually, I feel quite rested already...

Time off

I've not been here for the last few days, because I spent last weekend in London, ON MY OWN, without Husband or Boys. It was the first time in 2 years I spent more than a few hours without any of them, and it was enlightening. I discovered the following about myself:

I can still sleep for 8 hours straight (I thought I had lost the knack).

I can still shop for 8 hours straight (as long as the expedition is punctuated by trips to the chiropractor, haircuts, a sushi lunch on a bench in St James' Park and the odd sneaked Snickers bar for pudding in honour of the fact that I'm not accompanied by nut-allergic children - so it would be rude not to).

It's exhilarating to travel light, walking out of the house with only a handbag containing simply wallet, purse, sunglasses, keys and telephone rather than being weighed down by the usual mix of epi-pens, sun cream, snacks, emergency toys, emergency snacks (for when the first ones run out), and not a cardigan, coat, or sweat-shirt to my name due to the fact that the London weather behaved itself and it was 24degC or over all weekend.

I should not buy cheap nailvarnish to put on my embarrassingly naked toes (one thing that the London ladies seem to have down-pat is well-decorated toes), because...

...even in my 40's I still can't apply nail-varnish properly.

I loved staying in a friend's empty flat and singing along to Xfm at the top of my voice because a) since she was away for the weekend my renditions couldn't upset her (although let's be honest, she's listened me murder music for 25 years now, so she could probably live with it), and b) there is no 4 year old Boy to regard me solemnly from the back of the car or the other side of the kitchen and and say 'Can you stop, Mama? You're embarrassing me...'

That it's actually not much fun to be away from Husband and Boys and have the latter not want to speak to me on the phone because to do so would mean interrupting their dvd viewing schedule...

...but that, every now and again, I can live with it.