The happy sandwich …

I seriously shouldn’t drink wine… I seriously shouldn’t drink wine washed down with goblets of genepi and shots of jäger! (I have no recollection of writing my post yesterday….)
But hey ho…. That was what this few days was all about. The middle bit of my sandwich. The filling. Time for me. Time for me and the Big Man. A sandwich with no filling is just bread… Pleasant enough, but not tasty, delicious or exciting. 
As I wait to board our flight home, I feel tired… a good tired. Not emotionally drained or tense from stress….rather an overindulged tired … A little achy, a good achy. Tired, achy and with more than a little glow of happy. 
Happiness comes from within. I am aware that I can be so focussed on everyone else’s happiness and wellbeing that I forget about my own. As a mother, a lot of my happiness comes from seeing and making my boys happy… But this few days was purely selfish happy making…
And yet the icing on the cake will be the joy I get the moment I kiss my boys hello…. They will be asleep, but it won’t stop me giving them death by kisses to try and wake them up, feel their little arms wrap around my neck… That will be the relish for my happiness sandwich, the unexpected extra pickle … 
So my ‘life sandwich’ is looking pretty good, a little more balanced … My Mum is in her happy place, my Dad is looking good, relaxed, remarkably self sufficient… Tom is bouncing into school again and excited his little brother is joining him in a few weeks. Everyone is happy that Big Daddy Morts is back home for good, in Yorkshire, no one more so than the BM himself…. 
So then perhaps it’s time to look at my rather neglected, forlorn ‘career sandwich’…. ? Would that make me happy? Or just the Big Man? 

I might just hold that thought just for a little bit longer….  
 
  
  

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