Since having kids I don't get much time to myself. My daily commute to work has become my sanctuary. It's my 'me time' when I can feed my addiction to podcasts and relax.
I took the train to work on Tuesday so Anne could have the car for the day. She was taking the girls for an Easter Egg Hunt at a friend's house in the afternoon.
The walk to the station and into work was a nice change for me, and it was a pleasant morning. I listened to my podcasts whilst getting some excercise. All was well.
Anne was going to pick me up from work at 6pm, following the Egg Hunt and kids tea, and I would drive them home to get the kids in the bath. I was looking forward to being met from work by my three ladies, so when Anne called to let me know she was about to leave to pick me up I was happy.
Then I got another, more frantic call from Anne. As Anne had neared my work ThingOne had thrown up all over herself and the car seats. She gets a bit car sick sometimes, but this is ridiculous. Anne had to stop in a lay-by and clean up ThingOne and the car, and I trudged down the road to meet them.
My expectations of a fun drive home with company were not met. Instead I had a miserable ThingOne, a screaming ThingTwo, a stressed Anne, and a car that smelled strongly of sick.
I missed my podcasts. I missed my peace. I missed the aroma of no kid sick.