With the exception of two hours between 2-4 pm today, I spent every waking hour this weekend with an 8 year old. An 8-year old whom I love, and who is great company. But an 8-year old nonetheless.
Did I mention that I had a date on Friday evening with the New Zeelundha but got dropped by the babysitter at last minute, so the 8 year tagged along for some fine waterside dining at one of Sydney's finest? (his idea...but it was either that, or cancel, or take-out pizza at Balmoral Castle!)
I really enjoyed watching a movie with her yesterday (although The Break-Up is probably cultivating premature relationship cynicism!) window-shopping and coffee-crawling among quaint arty shops in Surrey Hills, and she undoubtedly has an eye for design (and expensive taste!), though she drew a line on working through the entire Sydney biennale with me.
And this morning, we ran in the Mini-Mosman charity marathon before I worked at the hot dogs booth at her school fair while she blew a small fortune on rides and face painting and the chocolate wheel.
The point I am making is that I dont think I am a bad mother. But God, I need a bit of space - so badly!