People who know me realise I’ve been somewhat sour of late. Perhaps related to the much-vaunted ‘Trifecta’, which to those who don’t know it, means that your House/Job/Love life has reached a splendid equilibrium and your life is pretty much fabulous and will remain so forever.
Normally I’m hovering about the 30-60% mark, but in recent months it has dived to approximately zero, which is disheartening for a Mature Woman of Advanced Years. This observation received much vitriol from my dear friend MK, who made the following biting comment: as for the trifecta it is over-rated, and a tool of destruction. it ought to be disregarded by any sane person. Sane? Is she suggesting I am sane??
Anyway, after I came to this thrilling conclusion I had the following dream:
I was sitting on the floor of the bathroom in my parents’ old house in Celia St, having just given birth to three fine baby boys – triplets in fact. They were crawling around and talking fluently to me and one another. I was as proud as any new mum, and heaved out a bosom to feed them quicksticks – and would you know, they were all hungry. I breastfed one, then the other. Then the third was clamouring for some too – what to do? Three children and only two boobs! What do those multiple birth mothers from Woman’s Day do in this situation??
Interpret that any way you will.