I have a sick child. Well two actually, but one is more noisy cough rather than fevered brow. They've taken turns to be ill all week. It has made for a less than productive work situation but it's December, officially cold and flu season, and it's become something I accept.
However, my real dilemma is what to do today. You see, I have to get my hair done. Before you call me vacuous, vain and selfish, hear me out.
It is long overdue a cut and a colour. I almost never get time to get my hair done, which is why the hair dresser sends me rude text messages saying: 'It's been months since we last saw you. Don't you like us anymore?' And it's not that I don't like them, I just can't seem to find a time when both children are looked after, I'm not working and we don't have to drag ourselves off to stand on the side of a field watching small boys kick balls of various shapes.
But I finally thought sod it, and managed to secure a coveted spot with the hairdresser. I have been counting down till the big day when I can stop looking like Worzel Gummidge. The glorious day has arrived - along with a temperature of 39C on son 1. I can't send him to school. I can't take him with me. There aren't many people standing in line shouting: 'Pick me! Pick me! I'll look after the poorly child.' Funny that.
I leave in 3 days time to go to South Africa to see long lost family and would really rather not arrive looking like a grey shaggy dog. What's more, this evening I have a Christmas party to go to. As someone who works at home on my own, I don't have a busy Christmas party calendar. I have no need for the party frocks or spangly ear rings that are advertised at this time of year. I live in the Berkshire countryside. If I wore something spangly, people might talk.
But a bunch of girls and I thought that it was high time that we had a Christmas party to go to. We've booked a table at the local upmarket pub (that's as good as we get here) and have agreed to don our glad rags (in my case a cat suit with fierce heels - now the locals really will talk - and a very nice new hair cut). That is supposed to be happening tonight. Did I mention the sick children?
My husband is away in London until Saturday attending a carousel of different PR luvvy dahling Christmas parties so isn't able to help out. I'm not sure I can leave two sick kids with a 14 year old babysitter while I go out and drink wine.
Unless a Christmas fairy waves a magic wand, I can see my plans changing from lovely to lemsip in the blink of an eye.
It's one of those time when people might say: Don't be selfish. It's not as though you have something vitally important that you HAVE to do. Look after your poor sick child and remember why you're a mother.
But as any real mother knows, what we actually want to say is: Bollocks. What about me?? Feel free to commiserate with me.