Smiles for Miles

Oh well hello there...

For those of you that are still reading, and have managed to persist through my constant moaning for the last 3 months- bravo and thank-you for sticking around. The good news is that I didn't slit my wrists after my last post- infact, I'm still alive and kicking and feeling (drumroll please...) fucking fantastic! Wanna know why? 

.....

Because my most favourite human being, my partner in crime, my extra set of hands, my sanity saving knight in shining armour, my love, big poppa (he loves it when I call him that) is home in 6 sleeps.

6.

SIX!!!!

He finally responded to my cries for help, "SOS OLI, S O FUCKING S!!!" & voila, two absurdly overpriced airfares later, and Oct 5th was locked and loaded for landing. 

As soon as my finger clicked the 'confirm payment' option, I felt immediately flooded with relief. We had a date. The end is nigh. I won't be committing murder suicide after all. My sick jokes will come to an end. (or will they). 

Despite feeling like I've aged 3 years in 3 months, I'm pretty bloody impressed that we lasted as long as we did. Two toddlers tugging at your leg all day (and night) demanding a lot and not giving much back in return, was seriously draining. And on Olis end, going from three excited faces to come home to every evening, to no excited faces (and having to cook his own meals and do his own washing I'm sure) was equally horrific. Alas that little shining light is getting brighter by the day now, and before we know it, I'll be at the airport (an hour early) grinning until my gums completely dry out, and sprinting maniacally towards Oli like I am an extra in the movie "love actually". 

I just want to touch him. And sniff him. Yes lots of sniffing. Just to make sure he is really there. I want to watch the kids reaction when he strolls through the door. And proceed to watch them play together whilst I carefully, and tactfully, back slowly away and into the bedroom, whereupon I collapse onto the bed and sleep for an entire day and night.

Yes, that plan sounds brilliant.

Speaking of sleep; it is 8:37, 7 minutes past my bedtime. Tragic you might say? More like crucial to quality of life. 

See ya later suckers,

Gem 

Thought of the day "it is really, really unfair that at the end of each day of slavery, I still have to do the goddamned dishes"