On air and go!
My visit to the nursery started well I was expecting some crying and running for the other side of the room but no! Most looked on in shock as I arrived and busily tried to remember their names when I introduced myself. The people at the nursery were lovely and I have no idea if I was a welcomed distraction for the day or the troublemaker to wind up the kids and leave, bit like a favoured uncle (you know who you are) but everyone was very friendly and I receive a handsome drop of change into my pot. The kids were a little more difficult to impress. I had strict instructions to come over here, watch this, look at that, sit and squeak my nose all at the same time. I had to look after babies (which I managed to lose in a bush) , hold dinosaur friends and tell jokes-my jokes were rubbish and no they didn't laugh. I was prodded, poked, squeezed and sprinkled with sand but you know in that friendly sort of way that pre schoolers can get away with. I did everything they asked and by the time I had to go I was quite sad to leave that is until I got in to my car and realised that the shrill noise in my ear had gone. Bliss
Before the nursery visit I did the school run in my big clown shoes. So at 8.30am if you saw a woman in a bright red jumpsuit looking a bit John Waynesque it was me, just trying to figure out how to coordinate my arms and my legs for travelling. It was harder than it looked. The response was brilliant, I waved at most drivers and had plenty of morning smiles and waves back, my son joined in with that über cute "this is my mum" type jollity. My daughter cowered behind in the hope my bulk would save her from being identified.
Funnily enough even with such a good morning by lunchtime I had had enough. Really it was hot under the wig and the grips were digging into my head, the sun was burning my back and I just desperately wanted to wear my own clothes. I miss my jeans. The comfort of the everyday uniform of t shirt and jeans. But most of all I miss the anonymity . Standing out in the crowd is fun for a bit but being on air, ready to promote the charity at all times, explain why my decision 4 months ago turned into this - it's really very tiring. I'm not the most courageous of conversationalist even someone looking at my work whilst I'm in the room gives me the English embarrassment blush so this is far removed from my comfort zone.
Later, once my plans of a bit of baking had been put back to after tea time I sat at 9.30 still icing cakes I contemplated giving it up. I know, I know but I was tired and the whisper of sun had burnt my back ( milk bottle skin) and had toted up my hours to find a remaining 80 and just lost heart. I thought, I've done as much as I can, I've done quite well - four days is good, 12 drawings, an exhibition, organised the fundraiser in the pub, been on the radio and baked 30 clown cakes! That definitely earns me the chance to scratch my head and rejuvenate my cracking skin.
But it's no good,
I have to see it to the end. I'm that fool who chooses to make all the party bags from scratch, potato prints wrapping paper at Christmas and fakes handwritten thank you cards from the kids. That's right! Alongside presentation tourettes I also suffer from stubbornness and I will not back down from a challenge
( I may weep along the way, comfort eating and swearing is ok too)
But give up, NEVER, maybe check in tomorrow just in case.
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