You don't call, you don't write....

I know, I know, it's been too long. Six months in fact. It's embarrassing and there's no excuse for it. Sorry.
I should have written before now, but it's just been so busy. I never stopped thinking about you, of course. And I always meant to write, just, well, you know how things are.
Anyway, enough of the crap friend analogy. I have been very remiss at keeping up this here blog. Not going to try and squeeze in what's been going on in the last six months here. Lets start afresh. Wipe the slate clean.
Open is good. I'm knackered. I've been spending rather too much time on facebook, but I kid myself that it's for work rather than just being nosey. And I am a bit of a sticky beak.
That's clearly where my sweet little daughter gets it from.
And now I've got more of a handle on the whole working mother thing. I work when the little lady is asleep, when she's at nursery for nine hours a week and when my very lovely mum helps out. Which is a lot and far and away beyond the call of duty.
But, now, the guilt thing has gone. And I say phooey to all who judge mothers who work full time, work a bit or decide not to work at all.
It's important for me, anyway, for my little girl to see that her mum lives her passion and doesn't shut up and bend to pressure or convention when, actually, that's just about fear.
So to celebrate my new-found mental freedoms I actually went out, had alcoholic drinks and danced. It was strangely liberating to wake up with a hangover.