Battling the guilt

It was 22C yesterday … in freaking July … so you know where I went.

The beach!

I felt terribly guilty though, because it was my weekend with the kids.

It seemed wrong to run off and have fun without them.  But they weren’t interested in swimming at the beach, plus the eldest had other plans and the youngest had skipping training later in the afternoon.

Still, the guilt coursed through my veins.

It didn’t help that I’d also ducked off on Friday night for a few hours when I discovered both kids were busy.

I found myself tallying up what I’d done with – and for – the children over the past few days to justify my escapes.

OK, so … I dropped the youngest and a friend off at Grill’d for dinner on Friday night, grabbed some sushi for the eldest and dropped it into their lap to eat while they worked on a school assignment.


Then I drove up to DD’s house for a glass of wine and some pizza.


Then I drove home and prepared yet another nasal wash for the youngest before bed.


On Saturday morning, I went for two walks – and two coffees – with friends, only arriving home around 12.30pm.


But the kids had only woken up a few minutes before I walked through the door, so they weren’t too bothered.

Tick … although slightly concerning that they both sleep until lunchtime these days.

The eldest wanted a lift into town, so I offered to buy the kids yum cha. We gobbled down delicious dumplings and noodles and salt and pepper squid together at the Palace restaurant in Castlereagh Street, nom, nom.


Afterwards, I went home and filled the nature strip with junk ahead of a council throw out while the youngest lazed in bed.

I’m not sure whether that’s tick or a cross.

Then I rallied the youngest to help me do the grocery shopping so she could buy herself lots of vastly expensive sugar-free things. But, as we went out to the car she had a total fit because I’d thrown some of her childhood artworks away.

Again, not sure if that’s a tick or a cross.

Then I made the youngest her favourite dinner – cauliflower mac n cheese – and we ate it while watching a rom com.


I had to stop the DVD halfway through to collect the eldest from a function they attended in the inner west that turned out to be really lame … or whatever expression teenagers use these days for something being a dud.


As I was going to bed on Saturday night, after turning on the dishwasher, locking up the dogs and turning off the lights, I realised the youngest hadn’t done her nasal wash and went a bit nuts because I was sooooo tired and wanted to go to bed and didn’t want to have to turn on all the lights again to sterilise water.

Cross. Very cross.

Sunday morning dawned and I went to the gym. About 10 minutes after I got home the youngest texted from bed to say she’d woken up and was hungry. So I served her – as per request – mac n cheese in bed for breakfast.

Another one of those uncertain ticks or crosses.

Then I took the dogs for a walk. I tried to entice the youngest to go with me, but she begged off to spend more time in bed.

I served her another bowl of mac n cheese for lunch – again in bed, again by request – drove the eldest to the train station to visit a friend in Parramatta, then hooned off for my swim feeling slightly stricken about leaving the youngest at home alone.

(I’ll save my angst over the youngest spending the school holidays in bed for another time.)

Once I’d talked DD into donning a wetsuit and joining me in the waves, all the guilt washed away because it felt totally glorious.

The water temperature had dropped so it was bloody brisk ducking under the waves, but exhilarating.

Afterwards, it was so warm in the sun that I sat comfortably in my cossie on the beach, sipping a piccolo and watching a pod of dolphins frolic in the waves just a few metres off shore.


Then it was back to DD’s for a hot shower before heading to our favourite local for an early roast dinner and a glass of wine.

Such a fab afternoon. So much guilty pleasure.

Song of the day: Bananarama “Love in the first degree”


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