Settling in to London life......

It's Valentine's day. I've done very well in avoiding the mushy lovey-dovey rubbish in the shops, I don't have a TV, and don't listen to much radio. Nor is there a newspaper in the house. There is, however, a rather lovey-dovey married couple. Which meant the dog has just had a super long evening walk so I could avoid their Valentines meal in... shared with the 4 year old, but sickeningly full of red candles none the less. So, in all, I have spent my Valentines trying to avoid catching conjunctivitis from a very face-grabby toddler, and teaching a 4 year old to wipe their bottom forward to back. Not back to forward. "No, T, try again.... forward to... no, that's your back bottom. You need to start wi..... oh. You have poo on your hand... NO, C, not the eyes! Don't touch my eyes!!!"


I did however get a Valentines flower. A sunny yellow pot plant from T, the four-year old. It's yellow, because I told her Belle was my favourite disney princess, which is rather sweet; it is, however, a Begonia, which for me means I shall have to spend the rest of my time working here replacing it on the sly, as I cannot EVER keep them alive. It's like they take one (literally wilting) look at me, and go, 'oh. Well, you're clearly an irresponsible plant owner. I might as well  die now' and keel over within the hour. Which must be a record in itself - fastest plant death ever.

So.
You may be able to tell.
I have my new job. I moved in nearly 3 weeks ago.... feels like time is moving incredibly fast.
So. Being a nanny, to a 4 year old and an 19month old...
The job requires lifting, carrying, piggy backs, buggy pushing, bath times, holding down a screaming toddler with a poo phobia during nappy changes.... and what did I do 4 days before the job started?
Developed Sciatica.
Badly.
So the first week was fun.
Then I spent a week warding off various ills that the kids and the mum had.
Then I've spent the past 5 days with a record bunch of health complaints. 3 cold sores, a sore throat, a snotty nose so disgusting that at one point I was concerned I may be sneezing up chunks of brain, and, just to cap it all off, my period. And the odd back twinge, just in case I forget that one. I'm 24? Am I sure? I feel ancient.
Another shining example of how my body hates me.

But yes. Valentines. For starters, I dreamt about the EX last night, which, like everyday in the past few months, rebroke my heart afresh.
Then I realised I haven't had sex in at least 3 months, which for me is unheard of. Indeed, that length of time between some kind of bedroom activity may not have ever happened since I was 16. Ok.. maybe 15. The odd thing is, most of me really couldn't give a flying fuck. Wait. Inappropriate. A monkey's.
My weirdness with the whole having sex thing continues with a vengeance, and I'm not so adverse to just ignoring it entirely anymore.
And.... having finally realised how much I'm still in love with the Ex, I can't imagine being comfortable with anyone else. I tried that at the beginning. Vigorously. It didn't get me very far. So, spinster-hood it is.

Since I've moved to London, I have been naked in front of someone though.
They were so nonjudgmental, so gracious that I felt quite normal. Quite natural. At peace with my body. No nerves whatsoever. Even with the fact my bikini line stands testament to my non-sexual status and has been left entirely to it's own (wild, somewhat exuberant) devises for the last 3 months. I even got a boob grab when we were fully dressed later.

It's when she hit me in the face with a stickle brick when we got home from the swimming pool I realised the toddler really couldn't care less whether I could juggle her and a towel and our dry clothes at the same time or let us just stomp about the changing room in matching birthday suits.
 But still. It's nice that she didn't start crying.