Swimming Party: A Repost

This is from January 2008 and serves to remind me that I need to stop waiting for my life to be a little less mental, because it always has been mental and probably always will be mental, and I just need to deal with that. Sigh.

Another typical day. Busy busy, trying to pack things ready for our holiday tomorrow between feeding the baby, making lunch, feeding the baby, cleaning up the inevitable juice spilt at lunch, and feeding the baby. A friend of mine is having a swimming party this afternoon for her one year old's birthday, so I ring her a few times to get directions but there’s no reply. Well, obviously, she’s getting ready for the party, so I leave a message and go to Google maps instead. My computer is slow to start up and when I get the information up I see it takes ten minutes longer to get there than I thought, which means we should be setting off, well, now.

So I holler and rush and get them all lined up excitedly at the door for shoes and coats, pack three bags worth of swimming stuff and emergency other stuff that I daren’t leave the house without, wake up baby, load up the car and off we go.

Fifteen minutes into the journey, I notice Scooby and Ace have fallen asleep. Darn it, that’s not good. It means that they’ll be grumpy when we arrive, and then won’t go to sleep for ages tonight.

Twenty minutes into the journey, I realise we can’t possibly be going the right way and must be lost. I turn around and go back.

Twenty-five minutes and I realise we were going the right way, I just hadn’t gone far enough.

At thirty-five minutes, I am definitely lost and Turtle is beginning to voice his concern.

At forty-five minutes, I make the most spectacular fifty-three point turn between a tiny cottage and an open-edged river bank at the bottom of what turned out to be the wrong lane.

At fifty-five minutes I finally find the centre where the swimming pool is based and continue to drive around for ten minutes trying to find a) the pool, b) a place to park, or c) my friend’s car so I have a vague idea of where I’m supposed to be. I can’t find any of those things so I stop by the road and get out my phone to try her again.

On the phone is a message, sent about two minutes before I left the house, telling me the party was yesterday.

So now I have about two hours packing to catch up on, a hungry baby, and an unfulfilled promise to find a swimming pool at some point when we are on holiday.



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