Sitting here at the medical centre with a baby who's been screaming bloody murder all night long. That is, up until the point we got here, and now he's all cute and blowing raspberries. In future, I'll bring him here just to stop him crying. This morning I've taught a 6am class on less than three hours sleep, and that's roughly the average over the last four nights. I haven't even got the strength to rant about anything, let alone exercise. Today I'm the epitome of the mess in #fitMess. I want to blag it wherever possible. My face looks like it could use some makeup but I don't have enough hands (*edit* there is now mascara, the effect isn't as dramatic as I thought it might be - now I look shit, but with added mascara). I can't even remember if I brushed my teeth... did I? I must've done. I gave up my seat because I'm not the ill one and nobody even fucking said thank you. My left, baby-carrying arm feels like it's going to explode with the strain but at least he's not screaming. I feel guilty because I had to cancel two PT clients to come here, even though I know he's more important than work. And then I panic a bit because what if he's really sick and I need more time off? And then I go back to feeling guilty because I should make his wellness my priority. But work though.
My mind wanders and I remember I was going to try yoga today. Back to guilt for 'skiving' that, as well as work. Then I remember I shoved a pain au chocolat in my face as I ran out of the door. No points for a balanced breakfast this morning. Actually, fewer points than you'd imagine, because it was actually two. Yeah that's right, I had two fucking chocolate croissants, admitted it online and that's the only thing I don't give a fuck about. Actually, they were really tasty, despite being tiny and, in hindsight, a touch on the stale side. If I'm honest, that was the highlight of the day so far. Also, it means I'm not hungry, and anyone who knows me will tell you that the world is undoubtedly a brighter place for that.
There is a point to the above rambling mess of thoughts. But I'm so fucking tired I have no idea what it is right now.
That was written at 8.15am in a waiting room with 32 other sick people. Charlie just has a virus but is still a poorly little monkey. Some days are completely off-plan. You're blindsided by something you didn't see coming, and you've got to drop everything.
Now, coffee, a walk on this beautiful frosty day and then, making plans. Because today I have no choice but to be nothing but mummy, but tomorrow, I shall conquer the world.