A Wet Wednesday

I'm writing this while watching the littlest get his swimming lesson. It's only his second ever, so he's three floats on each arm and an apprensive air. Oh, and a verruca on his foot that we're actively treating, but not discussing because I forgot to buy the sock. I know, I know- Karma's gonna get me good for that one.

After this, it'll be home for homeworks, dinner prep and piano lessons, but this morning, as it happens, I did a bit of writing and had a singing lesson. Are you picking up? I actually sat down at a desk in a quiet house and wrote something. An SFD (shitty first draft) yes, so definitely nothing to get too excited about, and chances are it'll end up in the circular file, but hey, it's a start! And I even enjoyed it.

 And the singing lesson was the second of three that I got on Groupon, and I'm loving them,despite being the exact polar opposite of the classical style lessons I had years ago. Which means no more pretentious R rolling and sounding like a horsey Royal, which is always a plus, don't you think?

Now here's what I'm realising, something I've long forgotten, or maybe never appreciated in the first place- that it feels good to be using my fast deteriorating brain cells and doing something that pushes me, scares me, excites me. Even though I may never make a penny from it, (although that would be sooo sweetski) it'll still have been worthwhile, because personal growth is never wasted. And Nope, watching the Real Housewives doesn't count.

All onesies-sad but true!

And everyone's a winner here (bear with),
because I'm also learning that afterwards, when I do return to the daily grind-and lets just be brutally honest here-there's a helluva lot of it at this stage in my life-my attitude's got a bit more 'bring it on' than 'jog on' when spying that bottomless pit of a laundry basket. Long may it last!

Oh and another thing lovelies, never underestimate the mood lifting power of getting your nails done- we're off out on a bit of a 'do' on Friday night so I've pushed the boat out and even got my boring blah ginger eyelashes dyed for the occasion -so now I'm Good. To. Go.

 Just between you and me, I can't seem to stop casting admiring glances at their glorious pink sparkliness, and I feel absurdly happy... would the five year old girl trapped inside me please stand up?
Laters, Emx