We’ve just put Gwen into childcare, for two mornings a week.
I’ve missed her terribly during the settling-in sessions. On Friday, I was so eager to pick her up that I arrived at the nursery 40 minutes early; ran across the room, skidded on a toy car and fell to the floor, comedy-cartoon style.
But the pain of the big grey bruise on my leg is fading now the implications of Gwen’s two mornings at nursery are sinking in. Yes, I will have six whole hours to myself a week….in which to visit the loo without keeping an ear half-cocked to listen out for distressed squeals. To draft blog posts (and hey, maybe even the occasional short story) without needing to plonk the kids in front of CBeebies to keep them out of my head for ten minutes, while I guiltily tap away on the keyboard.
To tidy the house, and knowing it’ll stay tidy. For three hours, at least.