One week down...

Despite my misgivings about the solo parenting expedition that has unwittingly been thrust upon me, I am happy to report that I survived the first week. Both myself and Miss I have emerged unscathed. And with the exception of a block of cheese that I stored in the bread bin as opposed to the fridge all week, the household is pretty much in order.

I wouldn't say I relished it but, thankfully, it wasn't the ordeal I was anticipating. I suspect my expectations were so low that I was always going to be pleasantly surprised. Unless Miss I and I had both contracted a nasty bout of the ebola virus - rendering us both miserable and intolerable - in which case my fears probably would have been realised. Though, if that had happened, I guess we'd have to go to hospital in which case we could aim for Wagga and have a family reunion with Mr G. How romantic! 

Anyway. The fact nothing remotely bad happened all week, made it bearable. By Friday I had a spring in my step. I was practically on a high. I had survived! And I'd actually enjoyed it. The weekend beckoned, bringing with it the missing piece in my family trio. I can't explain how happy this made me without breaching the acceptable standards of public declarations of affection. Suffice to say there were big smiles. And for the first time (almost) since we've been back in Sydney we've had a whole weekend together. That looks set to be the silver lining of the next three months.

It is early days and I would like to reserve the right to complain freely and bitterly in the coming weeks as my ability to cope wanes. But for now, it's ok. I got through week one. Surely that fact alone will buoy me through the second. If not, the words of one kind, fellow mother on Saturday will. She said someone should give me an award. I've always liked those...