I nearly pooed in the woods this morning. I’d walked too far, gotten lost. I was wandering around what appeared to be some sort of over grown mountain bike trail, the path was getting narrower and narrower, steeper and steeper with sharp inclines and I was suffering from serious poo sweats. I decided to turn around and retrace my steps. I managed to avoid an embarrassing incident but I’d got as far as setting my bag down in a chosen position then wimped out. What if my phone rings? What if another parent from the boys’ Little School walked past? What if Little School ring, I don’t have anything to wipe my bottom, poo on my DMs and have to pick the boys up stinking of shit? No, I powered on.
I was in the woods to kill time, be alone and get some peaceful exercise. On Tuesdays Eddie and Rufus now go to Little School from 9.30-2.30pm, it’s a long day. I’m surprised how much I’ve felt I hate them at times but also very obviously struggle to be without them. I’m working on it, but they’re still so little. I never thought I’d be the kind of Mummy that struggles to be apart from her children but I’m needy and controlling with most things and people I love, so I guess it was inevitable I’d feel that way about someone I’d created! But as everyone around me tells me time apart will do us all good. I think I’m starting to believe them. Although I can’t be trusted when I’m alone, especially on the Internet, my curiosity and dark side often leads me to feeling terrified and anxious about the world I’m abandoning my 2 chaps in. Today for example, albeit not the worst thing my searchings have led me to discovering, I read in-depth descriptions of people being crushed to death by other people. Triggered by the Hillsborough news stories I realised I didn’t really know what had happened, so I got researching. Soon my chest was pounding and I was imagining how I would have tried to save my children and myself in a similar situation. I was nearly sick. Why would I search for pictures of crushed suffocating humans when I knew I was already quite disturbed? I was once crushed to the floor in a large stumbling mosh-pit. I remember screaming and being dragged up by saving arms and hurled over barriers to safety. I was 15 and at a Placebo gig, the bouncer ripped my homemade Brian Molko vest top, it was nothing to what those people suffered. I wish I could protect the boys from suffering.
I’m still not over the joy I felt when my month-long migraine was recently cured. My Mum brought me a giant Custard Cream to celebrate, she didn’t like seeing me suffer either. I’m pleased to be able to sit comfortably in-front of a screen again, pleased to wake up and appreciate that the sun is shining, rather than feeling like it’s slicing my eyeballs open (even if said sunshine does wake the boys up at 6.30am). I’m pleased to have a new desk to sit and rekindle my creative side at, I’m pleased we’ve got Chicken Pox out of the way, I’m pleased the boys love going to Little School and I am especially pleased that I get to bring them home again. I gave them Custard Creams this afternoon once we’d battled through the hailstone storm to the comfort of the sofa, neither of the boys liked the hail at all. Custard Creams clearly are the best biscuit to celebrate the survival of a storm, be it in your head or falling on your head.