........I can't believe this day has finally come.
It's only taken sixteen years, six months and twenty two days. (My doesn't time fly.)
Some of you will be aghast that I'm not weeping. Indeed some will already have posted about this momentous day, and not in a celebratory way. You will have shed a quiet tear, tiptoed into certain bedrooms to breathe in the scent of stuffed animals and lovingly retrieve items of clothing casually tossed in a heap on the floor. (I've always said I should stay away from the novel-genre and stick to non-fiction. There's your proof.)
No. I'm afraid after sixteen years etc. I've long passed the grieving stage. You see, tomorrow marks the first day in sixteen years, six months, and twenty two days (did I mention that?) that I am ALONE IN THE HOUSE. Yahoo! Little Guy is starting 1st Grade (Year 2) which goes on all day. None of that picking him up at 11.45 malarkey.
Given the vast age difference between the little guy and his two teenage siblings, plus that fact that they don't start full time school here until they're about 11, I have had a small human in the house for all of part of the day for over 16 consecutive years. Yes. I know.
People have asked me what I'm "going to do with" myself, and to tell you the truth, I have no idea. Of course, I have a mountain of things to do, not least because we moved into this house 6 years ago and I had a 5 month old baby and a brand new publishing contract. Not a lot of time for home-making, so it's all still there in it's guilt-inducing glory. A guest bedroom that looks more like a hospital ward, a boy's room that is now embarrassingly baby blue, and a kitchen than is about as organised as Chicago's bid for the 2016 Olympics. There's also the 70% finished book that needs well, finishing and fact-checking, as well as lots of unsubscribing from Internet groups that I have joined and subsequently ignored.
The Ball & Chain is making strange noises about retiring early, but I'm having none of that. There's no way I'm spending sixteen years, six months (yes, I know, you know) and twenty two days stepping over small children only to start all over again with a 6 foot 4 inch version. No siree Bob. If he wants to retire I will have to put him in a retirement home, that's all there is to it. I'm not having doddery people cluttering up what will soon be my wonderfully organised (not to mention co-ordinated) house.
So - what are my plans for this joyous day? No idea - answers on a postcard or the back of a stuck down envelope please.