How did I get here?

Yesterday I had a few little jobs to do – quick grocery shop, make dinner, tidy the house, take care of the kid. No big deal. In between throwing loads of washing in and out of the machine I whisked Pebble off to the supermarket to get the ingredients for dinner. She insisted on wearing her ‘dancing skirt’ over the top of her trackies, as she does almost every day lately. I couldn’t be bothered getting dressed properly myself, and chose to go out in my mummy uniform of charcoal work out pants (I don’t even know what to call these – trackies meet yoga pants and have a baby), an old, super faded t-shirt with a few holes in it (no bra – gasp!), and my black hoodie that was NOT coming off under any circumstances.

Of course this would be the day that:

a) I bump into one of the parents and a student from my class. A gorgeous family, honestly, they are such treasures. I just wished I was wearing a bra.

b) Pebble wets her pants – the nappy was dry, it was bizarre!

c) I don’t bring a change of clothes out with us.

d) I don’t pack a snack (she’s an EATING MACHINE right now!).

So there where are, in the car park at Woolies with my kid in a tutu and sneakers, stuffing her face with a bread roll. She was having a lovely time.  Sometimes you just have to laugh at life. Then other times you just have to learn how to prepare to leave the house with a toddler. For heaven’s sake woman, have you learned nothing in the last 20 months?

That’s why I write this blog – so I don’t forget moments like these. Gold.