Yesterday was not a good day.
It started with me being hit over the head by a moody toddler, who’d woken up in a terrible mood.
And it ended with a moody toddler, intent on breaking her mother’s glasses.
So when I woke up this morning, next to a sick husband who’d been up all night vomiting, I was adament I would do better today. We’d planned to take Frog to soft play or swimming, to make up for our utterly pants parenting the day before. We wanted to spend some quality time together as a family, with smiles and cuddles rather than irritation and anger. But when I looked at my husband, pale and shivering, sweating off a fever, I knew that wasn’t to be.
Instead, I spent the day with my daughter while the (self-proclaimed) Northern Love Machine slept in his sick bed. And (sorry NLM) it was a brilliant day.
We went to the park and stamped in leaves.
And we chased bubbles in the rain.
Somewhere amongst the day I managed to cram in three loads of washing and hoover downstairs (with the help of my toddler). And we had 45 minutes on the sofa, snuggled amongst blankets while we read stories and almost fell asleep.
Today was a good day. Today felt like being on holiday. I need more days like today.