"Bump-Her Cars"

I woke up this morning with a start - stared at 'Bang Bang' on one side of me (who we now call fondly, 'The Squit' - more on that some other time) and the husband on the other.  Then I blurted out, "I almost got hit by a car yesterday!"

It's true.  I had forgotten.  Somewhere between the wee, the poo, the vomit, the squealing for attention, the crying and the endless laundry, I had forgotten my near escape.

Returning home from the supermarket, arms laden with fairly healthy foodstuffs, I was just crossing a side street (my right of way I might add...ahem) and suddenly out of nowhere a big grey people carrier driven by what looked like a Somalian taxi driver on acid (his face as he veered by resembled nothing so much as Edward Munch's 'The Scream') brushed my leg as it careened around the corner - causing me to lurch in a panic onto the sidewalk to safety.  Bloody hell.

(You should have seen the face of the blond woman in the back who had ceased talking on her mobile to shriek in panic as she realised she might be spending her morning at the police station instead of at her desk drinking Starbucks).

Anyway, alls well that ends well, and luckily I had my wits about me (for once) and jumped away in time, but it was close friends, it was close. And it got me thinking about how your whole life can change in a second. And it also got me thinking yet again about how lucky I am.

Believe me, there are a million things I would change (AM going to change - I swear. "Do you HEAR me skinny jeans?") but for the moment I am pretty grateful with my lot.

For one thing, three nights ago little 'Squit' (aka 'Bang Bang' my youngest son) slept through for the first time all night (well from midnight to 6am, which these days constitutes a whole night).  I nearly cried with joy when I awoke and it was morning.  Hurrah!  Then the next night he did it again!

Okay, so last night he woke up in the middle of the night, but it was just once, and it was only because he wanted a cuddle in our bed.  Fair enough.  But still, is that a shard of light at the end of the tunnel?  Might the period of severe sleep deprivation, tights and dirty t-shirts at the school gates (trust me, NO amount of lipgloss and dark shades can hide the truth that you've totally given up...i mean totally given up) and being grouchy 24/7 be nearing an end?  (This morning, dressed in a skirt for once, as I dropped Dumpie off, a friend commented, "You look great!" I didn't, I might add.  I just didn't look like I'd wandered off a really bad channel 5 afternoon movie.)

Only time will tell, but in the meantime, in the words of the behemoth rock gods 'U2', "It's a beautiful day...don't let it get away".  So I won't. Out to skip about the streets doing errands with a drooling chubby baby between rain showers today.

Looking both ways of course.  You never know when danger might be lurking round the corner.  (And for the record, I am not referring to the death trap of a VW Campervan the husband seems intent on purchasing and I seem intent on letting him purchase...)