Q, meanwhile, spent Mothers' day reminding me that it is still all about her and was so intense I cried. Twice.
This week she's decided we need more than the 29 hours a day we spend together by waking between 12.30 and 2am to talk about, whatever it is that consumes an 18 month old at 2 o'clock in the morning.
And the next morning when my eyes are gritty and my head hurts worse than the worst teenage hangover, I still love this motherhood gig.
But it's hard at the moment.
Really hard.
I don't want to work 5 nights and 2 days. That's too much time away from her.
But I don't have a choice, at least for the first few months. We need to earn money so we can give her the things she needs and deserves. And there's a nobility in that. In working hard to take care of those you love, and we're working hard at something we love. That's not a bad spot to be.
Yesterday I bought muesli bars for her for the first time in her 18 months. Typically I make all her food. I'm not saying that to brag. Quite the opposite. We've been on a pretty tight budget since she turned up, saving for the restaurant on one income, I like to bake, she likes to help me 'mix mix mix' and when the days are as long as they are with Q, you tend to have time for a lot of activities.
So tonight I took a break from the restaurant madness and made her some muffins.
I have just discovered I forgot the egg.
Do you think they'll still set?
It would seem mad to the outsider to spend half an hour making muffins when you've got an urgent 'to-do' list that is...well, urgent, but I needed to do this for her.
No I didn't. I needed to do it for myself.
I needed to reassure myself that no matter how tired or sad or poor or stressed or focussed I am, she's still my number one.
I might have forgotten the egg, but I'll never forget my girl.
