Lotsa Lotsa Lotsa

I'm about to set a new trail for myself. I'm a little frightened by it. But it has to be done. I've been freelancing for a while, but I need some sort of regular gig to bring home some bacon, or at least some snouts or something. And I'm nervous.

You may be wondering why? My children are both at an age where they separate well.

But it's me who doesn't separate well. In fact tension just riddles my body when I am away from my wee ones. I hate it, wish it wasn't this way, but it is. I prefer to be with my little tikes.

And then of course there's the problem of finding a role with flexibility for a mama. It's not easy folks.

So meanwhile I'm thinking and stitching. Lotsa lotsa lotsa, something the Doctor used to say with such regularity when he wanted some more of something. Probably ice cream or chocolate.

So Many Motha Uckers.

I can't get this song out of my head. I sing it in the street. In the supermarket. My son even knows the words (bad mama!) - just not the meaning.

I think it's my theme song for the week. I work freelance. I'm waiting to get paid. Every tick of the tock. One of the pitfalls of not working for the man. Waiting for the mula. Ho hum.

I've even considered getting my husband to call up under the guise he's my accountant. Sneaky, aren't I?

Anyway. Enjoy it.