Ergh. We all know that sound we make when we're fed up, trivially annoyed at something or slightly disgusted at ourselves or our situation.
Just ergh.
Like when you open the fridge after feeling sick for a week and you still don't want to eat anything inside it. Or when you have just spent an hour making amazing pumpkin soup and the very first mouthful ends up on your light-coloured T-shirt.
It was exactly the sound I made when I pulled down the stashed space bag from the top of our wardrobe and started sorting my pre pregnant clothes.
I'm in the grip of turmoil and only just emerging from some kind of hazy fog (thanks to sleep training, my husband's willingness to bounce on a fit ball at three thirty am and red, red wine). It has been a beautiful turmoil as anyone who has made it through the first year of their first child's life can attest to. This past week I have slept my first six plus hours straight since halfway through my pregnancy (just over a year ago). Longer baby sleeps means the return of a glass or two of red in the evening, more civilised conversation between myself and hubby and a vague glimpse that the 'real world' is still going on outside my mummy bubble.
