We’ve had a funky few weeks around our house. I say ‘funky’ in this case not implying ‘smelly’ or ‘gone off’ (although some of those nappies….pfffft!) but just sort of bad.
For the first half of 2015, we had been experiencing something of a universal love-in, and rode high on a crest of good fortune; we got engaged, I published my first book, work was good, the kids were flying, we were beaming with happiness and excitement… Friends of mine kept roaring ‘Jesus! Do the Lotto, quick!’ (and we did, but we weren’t having
that kind of luck, I’m sorry to say).
Cut to the second half of the year, and from June onwards, the Universe clearly took a step back, looked at us and declared ‘That’s quite enough now, young Hayden-Fynes’s – you’ve had more than your fair share of delight now and must hand it back, please and thank you’. The Universe – the jealous
bitch – then promptly pulled the plug on us.
We found ourselves at the beginning of the summer holidays without the childcare we had arranged, with an explanation that I’m going to file under ‘vague’; staff problems in work that pulled us away from the real work of running a business much more than we had hoped; the reality of planning a wedding kicked in with full force as we started exploring our options which always ended with the us having the same conversations, ‘Oh you won’t get my da in a boat, Alan', or, ‘Oh wait, and what will the kids be doing if we go from the ceremony to the reception on the back of a motorbike?’, or ‘No one would appreciate being trampled on by an elephant in a chapel’ etc. (How
does everyone else do the wedding thing, and organize an event that you hope will keep upwards of 200 people from bitching about you for the rest of your lives? Fill me in!)
So we parked the wedding planning for a bit, giving ourselves a breather to catch up on other things like putting together Mz Eva’s 1
st strawberry-themed birthday party (who gave her the right to be one already, hmmm???). On Monday we sorted out new childcare which meant that I could get back to work properly, and write and try to promote that flipping book that won’t sell itself. Thrilled.
Beyond thrilled actually, as I was really starting to feel the cabin fever that comes with days smashing into each other that were full of
Peppa Pig, trying to figure out what the hell to feed them and what possible activities we could squeeze in while the weather decided if it’s the Summer or the Apocalypse.
So that was Wednesday, when Jacob started crèche and he got on so well that we agreed that he’d be well able for a full morning on Friday. But then on Thursday, he got the chicken pox.
The actual chicken pox. I so wish I was joking. That’ll be two weeks at home, at least, right? Will someone please send Hugh Jackman in a doctor’s outfit my way?! I’m feeling a little queasy myself…
Sharyn Hayden's epic book I Forgot to Take my Pill is available to order on Amazon.
