Today has born witness to my alarming productivity. The NYRs are coming on nicely and I have felt most smug, for most of the day. The inner happiness, whilst somewhat inflated by the prospect of a semi-normal evening schedule with @gazcook this coming week, is actually incredibly uplifting. So much so that despite the rotten, nightmare-ridden sleep I fell victimto last night, I have whooshed through the day with something like Super-woman strength and determination. I am sat down at the computer, relishing the memory of a day well done.
After collecting Seamus at 9 am from Manchester I have since, shopped for the week; completed an 8k run with a wee biking boy beside me (my son makes a great coach, and cyclist as it happens); baked two cherry, almond and lemon cakes complete with a side-kick of buns (for the boys' packed lunch); completed all house-work; Uni work; and even managed to prepare tomorrow nights dinner. I am ensuring excellent preparation and diary maintenance and almost sorted a great assortment of holidays, breaks and time away. Genius!
But then, with reflection, I am forced to consider that this only represents the day-in-the-life of every mother (a right Boal moment). I suppose I'm just proud to have made it to week 2 of the New Year in the clear. Am I Super-woman? Well, almost.
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