It must be so easy being a man. Why should I be a little nervous of taking my quote unquote 'spirited' toddler on a 2 hour train ride to Florence on my own while 4 months pregnant? Nothing easier. Anyone who's travelled on public transport with a small child knows exactly what an enormous pleasure it is. I simply dream of spending time with Isabel in confined spaces. Of course, I won't actually be alone: as well as a train full of people watching me, I'll also have the pushchair and a nice full rucksack for company. Grrrrrrrrrrrrr. Can you tell that G and I have had a row? Steam is literally coming out of my ears right now. It's going to take at least 15 cups of tea before I can even think about calming down and the very worst thing is that the bloody washing machine is on so I can't boil the kettle because the f!$#ing electrics in this f%*!ing country can't take more than one appliance at a time. Double, triple and quadruple grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
My actual telephone conversation with G this morning went something like this:
G: 'So, what, you're never going to travel ever again? You're just going to stay in the house now forever? What about when the second one is born? That's it?'
Me: 'No, I just don't feel up to it RIGHT NOW - I'm finding some things more difficult now than I used to, it's just because I'm pregnant and because Isabel is getting really lively.'
G: 'Come on, a couple of hours on the train, it's no more difficult than taking her to the supermarket!'
Me: 'Well, actually, you've never travelled alone with her so what do you know? I've taken her on trains and planes and it's ALWAYS really tough!'
G: 'I'd love to travel with her more but someone has to WORK you know.'
EXCUSE ME? Talk about below the belt.
So anyway, apparently everything is just easier if you're a man. Except of course managing to pee inside the toilet, pressing the 'on' button on the dishwasher and having a basic understanding of your wife.
In the end, and against my better judgement, I am indeed going to Florence tomorrow with Isabel on the train - God help me (and the other passengers). I believe that the journey will be less torturous than spending the weekend in Milan with a super-grumpy G moaning about all the things we could be doing if only I'd come down to join him in Florence. Wish me luck.