What, you want a title too?

So this week was the second week Big Guy was in school. And it was also the final week before the start of term. There was at least one high level meeting for me to attend about a University-wide matter, and there was the usual ‘make-food-clean-house-pay-bills’ task list.

Monday; Big guy’s first real full day. I, however, have a super-duper important meeting to get to that will run until 5pm. I get the other half to go collect him, and we head home exhausted to an exotic serving of takeaway.

 

Tuesday. No lunch, no exercise. We are rushing towards Orientation for the school, lots of lovely registration issues to attend to, and all those had to be left to one side while I was dealing with the meeting yesterday. I get through all of them, and by 3.30 pm I am an empty jug, all poured out. Home. Dinner. Bed.

 

Wednesday. This was the day I was hoping very much to go for a swim with a lovely lady. But there’s no way, I just can’t do it. I try to take a lunch break but end up falling asleep for ten minutes. Then back to it. I manage after work to buy a toothbrush for Big Guy and some facewash because right now all I have to use is hand wash from Lidl and I’m looking like something from Dr. Pimple Popper (DO NOT RESEARCH THAT).  Then home. One thing I’ve noticed is that for the first half an hour after school, Big guy is frankly acting out. It actually makes sense: he’s trying to behave and take on new rules all day, it’s only natural he’s more relaxed with me. I put on classical music in the car on the way home, and we discover that he loves this piece. Mah son will be the next Yo Yo Ma, just you watch.

 

Thursday: It’s so busy I don’t get time for a to-do list. It’s just queries, powerpoints, emails, students popping in ‘for just a sec’. Someone telling me a story wonders aloud if it happened on a Tuesday or a Wednesday, and I have to stop myself shaking them by the shoulders and asking WHAT DOES IT MATTER? I refrain.  Just to make it better, Big Guy has a bad day today, and there is much frowny face and pursed lips at school. I discover I am heartily sick of the lot of them. The kid is FIVE, not a member of royal court failing protocol. They’ll just have to cope with it.

 

Friday: The postgraduate orientation happens this am, and we have the usual bunch of intelligent, enthusiastic and engaged students attending. The problems are real and many, however, from visa problems to entry criteria (do not ask me about those. Ever.) and by the end of it I’m a rag being wrung out. I look back with sad nostalgia on my exercise plans for the week. Such sweet innocence I once had. In the meantime the waistband on my trousers is as tight as an overdraft and my hip hurts like regret. I pick up the Big Guy in good time, and believe it or not he had a good day. However, there is concern that he is not getting enough sleep. He’s taking a nap during after school, just for half an hour. They want to know what time he goes to sleep? I feel like telling them that he goes to sleep whatever time we get home from the casino after being out all night, but refrain. I do tell them the truth, that his bedtime is the one thing I have right; Big Guy goes to sleep after a bath by 8.30 pm each night, without any problems. We get out of there, head home to doughnuts and the weekend.

I did try to do some yoga, and found myself in pain I’m so inflexible. The road ahead is going to be a long one, my sisters.

So, in short, my week has been like this. What, you wanted exercise too?

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