I had a vision.
Me striding down George Street for my first day of work in 12 months. I was confident, clear headed, and ready to put my best foot forward. I stifled a cheeky smile as I became caught up in the city buzz buoying me faster to my destination. I was wearing my new black trousers and black and white ballerina top that reminded me of Curly-locks. My hair looked sleek, my makeup was perfection.
I replayed this vision over in my head as I nestled into my pillow last Sunday night. You’ll be fine tomorrow, I told myself as I drifted off to sleep.
And then it happened.
Not even 20 minutes after I laid my head on my pillow, Curly-locks, my three-year-old, let out a desperate cry into the night. I shot out of bed like a bullet and raced to her room to find her, her bed, and the carpet splattered with vomit. I was greeted with a vomit onto my chest and into, wait for it, my freshly washed, blow-dried AND straightened hair as she struggled to climb into my arms to be rescued.
‘I bomited, Mummy,’ she cried.
‘Teddy has bomit on him!’
Into the shower she went as Dave attempted to console her. Reeking of vomit as I changed her sheets and scrubbed the carpet, I could see my vision disintegrating right before my eyes.
I tucked Curly-locks into her fresh sheets, had a quick shower, and tucked myself in close to midnight. I was confident I could still get a good night’s sleep.
How wrong I was?!
The night continued in a similar pattern with more soiled sheets, pjs, and Curly-locks’ back up Teddy copping a beating.
After putting her into bed with Dave around 4am, I crept downstairs to get a little shut-eye on the couch.
When my alarm went off at 5.15am, I felt like I was waking up from the world’s biggest hangover. My eyes were burning, my head was pounding.
The confident, clear headed woman in my vision was a distant memory. I stared at myself in the mirror and cried. Why? Why last night of all nights?
I showered, did my hair again, put my face on and arranged for my superstar mother-in-law to look after the girls.
As I left for my first day of work in 12 months, I was far from the confident and clear headed woman in my dreams. I was freaked out, strung out and exhausted.
I survived the day though and even went back the next day for more.
I think I’m going to like this working mum gig. So far so good 🙂
Tell me I’m not the only one who has crazy stuff like this happen to them before an important event 🙂