N is for Nostalgia ... and Nutella.

Marty and I have been in negotiations on the prospect of a second child. He agrees that it will be difficult adding number two to the brood.

I have made threats to go on strike, as a parent in general. That is, unless conditions improve, before non-existent second child arrives. More toilet breaks, better pay (some pay!?) and maybe some annual leave?

For the past four days, I've had a pretty sick kid, which hasn't helped with the idea of having more children. Picture me scrubbing poo & vomit from all surfaces. Washing all the linen and the clothes. Feeling queasy being around my own child. Doing this with two children? Oh gawd...

During this time... I may... MAY have thought about how nice it would be to rewind time. You know, back to when I wasn't a parent yet. Fewer responsibilities, explosive diarrhoea and projectile vomiting in my life.

While I was camped on the lounge, with a lethargic, clingy toddler, I began to look through old photos.

This is where the nostalgia came in....

Will I ever bed jump again? Ruin hotel beds, one crushed wheel at a time? Bruise my knees, hips, arms, for the sake of a photo? Oh, I hope so!

Will I ever pose like a moron, just for shits and giggles? Why am I even asking that? Of course I will..

 

Sometimes I wonder, could I have done more with the skills and qualifications I attained? Should I have done wilder things? More important things? 

Or was dancing the kangaroo moves, rocking out the lawn mower and bed jumping enough? 

All I know is... Vomit or no vomit, poo or no poo...

I am the luckiest woman alive.