Fly swatting
It was the second round of the school sports day yesterday and I cunningly avoided the mothers' race yet again, by virtue of holding the baby throughout. This was actually because the baby has entered the "Don't even think of putting me down" phase. I had fed him before I went out, but he still seemed hungry. After watching last week's Loose Women about militant breastfeeding mothers [I think they meant any mum who breastfeeds outside the home], I am feeling less secure about breastfeeding in public and even less so about doing it at school since I figure the girls could get laughed at if some child [or parent] makes a big thing out of it. So I retired to a distant spot to feed him during the interval between rebel daughter's races.
My mum also came to the rescue and took the baby for a long walk. I am now feeling so tired after weeks of waking every two hours that I am not sure that the world around me is really real. I am finding it hard to distinguish between wakeful and unwakeful states and having bizarre snatched dreams [or perhaps these bits are the real life bits]. The lack of sleep means that I am finding it harder and harder to do once simple things, such as, for instance, fly swatting. Rebel daughter has an "issue" with flies after an ill-thought through trip to the Science Museum. I had not realised the full repercussions of their exhibition on flies regurgitating their food. Rebel daughter will not have a fly in the room with her. She would move continents to avoid a fly. This is hard in the summer. I open her bedroom window and she prefers the stifling heat. It is very hard to follow the trajectory of a fly when you are half dazed with sleep deprivation. The fly wins every time. I think they actually enjoy the whole thing. Roll on the return to work when I can focus on things I am actually physically and mentally capable of doing.
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