Having a word with myself

Ok, so I had a word with myself. I told myself to dry my friggin eyes and get on with it.

Then I put my ancient i pod thing on the speaker holder thing and blasted out Footloose. Yes, of Kenny Loggins. It, may I add, is not the only Kenny Loggins track on my i pod - I am not ashamed to admit this. Sproglet and I danced wildly in the dining room while Sproglette looked at us as if we were mad. She is waaay cooler than both of us and she is only 7 months old. It is as if she knows embarrassing moments already and refuses to take part. Dance over, dinner cooked, I threw on some jeans - actually, I easily got into THE jeans that have haunted me ever since I bought them. They are according to the woman in Gap 'a small size 10 - so really a 9' - a US 5. I used to fight to get into them with my muffin top hanging over the edge - and when I took them off big red welts would have indented into my stomach as if to say 'danger danger - do not wear jeans you don't really fit.' But last night they were comfy. This brought me more joy than Santa circa 1981. I have worked so so hard to get into those blue threads of hell. A natural runner, I am not. But proof is in the not-eating-the-pudding. How long they will fit me for, who knows? I'll enjot it while it lasts.

I then went out for a friend's pre wedding drinks. Too many glasses of red later I held court outside thinking I was hil.ar.i.ous. when in fact I probably looked like a tragic mum who never gets out and had to make up for it and then wants to let the world know she 'used to have an exciting life.' I think I may have even said 'yes, I used to work in television you know.' TRAGIC. But hey, I had fun. I let my hair right down. The woman who is getting hitched is a nanny and she told all that my Husband is a DD. I had no idea what this means - it is in fact 'Dishy Dad.' I can't bring myself to tell him the nannies of the neighbourhood have discussed him and categorised him in the looks department. His smugness would kill me.

So. I am fine. This morning Sproglette woke at 7:30 and we had a massive cuddleathon with Sproglet and I kissed their soft warm necks and smelt their sweet smell and felt utterly content. Hungover and weary, but also content. Things will work out. My truck load of chicken may well arrive when I win the Euromillions 160 million this weekend. Then I can throw chicken out to everyone. The weekend is packed with fun stuff including a trip to flicks to see Bridesmaids, high tea/baby shower and a train journey alone - something I haven't done in 5 years. I've 200 capsules for my Nespresso machine, the sun is trying to shine and it is Friday. Life aint bad at all.