Fresh Air.

Ever since I was pregnant (a lifetime ago), I've been craving the countryside. A better life for my family; a quieter, slower life with lots of space and green and fresh air.

I've never made it a secret just how much I love the countryside. I adore The Peak District and the Yorkshire Dales and I love Devon. Somerset is wonderful and I find all of Scotland heartbreakingly beautiful. I would give anything to live in any of these places. And then there are places like Dubai and Australia, who wouldn't love to live in the sunshine?!

One of our trips to the Welsh countryside

A desserted beach in North Devon

My favourite spot - Ilam Hall, Ilam in The Peak District

Malham, North Yorkshire

We've spoken about doing it, moving away, a thousand times and nothing has ever come of it. But just recently I've been feeling angry (believe it or not, this doesn't happen often anymore) about it. Why aren't we doing this? What's stopping us? We could have a better, happier life. We should do it. So why aren't we?????

I know why. It's me that's stopping us from moving. I'm too close to my family to just go, especially now Lil is here. They are my support network, I couldn't cope without them. Unless, of course, they'd move with us. Too much to ask and I couldn't bribe them with Lil, could I? So what's a girl to do? Stay in this grubby town I grew up in, send Lil to the same school I went to? Nothing wrong with that, I know. But in the words of Ariel (The Little Mermaid) 'I want more'.

Guess I better get bribing...

She is ten months.

Today. So that means in exactly two months she shall be one. A year. Twelve months.

One whole year? I need a vodka tonic and a lie down.

Holiday: cancelled.

I'm writing this from my bubble bath. In my house, in England. If you've been keeping up with me on Twitter, you'll know we cancelled our holiday. Lil got sick.

Let's rewind.

Since last Wednesday she has seemed off, I assumed it was her teething. She got worse on Thursday so I booked her in to the doctors for Friday. Her appointment was at 12:40, mine at 1pm. Forty minutes after her scheduled appointment time and after me having to cancel my cervical screening (for the third time in six weeks), we saw the doctor. She has an upper respiratory tract infection. Flying would be more uncomfortable for her but we could still go on holiday. She could get worse, she could get better. She was prescribed paracetamol (It turns out she can't fly with that, just another ill informed diagnosis. Fuck you, NHS)

I mulled this over and my instinct was telling me we couldn't go. I won't bore you with all the things that were running through my head but flying with a sick baby just wasn't an option.

It was definitely the right decision, four very tough, sleepless nights in. I just couldn't have dealt with this situation in a foreign place. And to top off her infection, she's still teething.

Am I upset we couldn't go? No. My daughters health simply isn't worth the risk.

I've had a really hard few days and not a lot of sleep. Today has been super difficult because, although I thought I knew what a tantrum was when clearly I didn't, she has been having real tantrums today. Toddler tantrums. My baby isn't much of a baby anymore.

Anyway, back to the bath. She's just had a nasty, throw herself back tantrum. I'm out of puff (not weed, stupid) so I've been told to 'go away' (charming). I'm having a bubble bath, I haven't had one of these for a while. Let's hope she gets better soon and we can spend this week doing some fun things like looking in to boarding schools.

If not, Mama's just going to hide in the garage with a case of wine and Emmerdale reruns on the iPad. I think it's Daddy's turn for a mental breakdown...

Time.

Is precious. This relates to EVERYTHING. The time I spend with my daughter, the time I spend sleeping (not a lot of that is getting done lately), even the time I spend eating is precious (food will always be my first true love).

Babyfree time is so precious. I never really knew just how much until the other day.

Every week, Lil goes to Noo noo's and Grampys for the day for 4/5 hours. I use this time wisely. I jack up (on caffeine), run errands and do the chores all in that time. And everything almost always gets done. Not this week.

I needed to see the doctor but couldn't get an appointment so I had to go and wait. I was told forty minutes. That's fine, I thought, I have emails to send and I can peruse eBay for some spring bargains for Lil. Forty minutes later, I still had six people in front of me. Fast forward another sixty minutes and I was called. I was livid. Doesn't the stupid receptionist know I have a babyfree day? I only have four hours until Lil returns home. Well, not any more. At that point I was down to two.

The point I'm getting at is, as Mother's, I don't think we allow ourselves enough time. Time for cuddles, bubble baths, time to sit and eat cake. Time to rest. There doesn't seem to be enough time in the day. Whether you're a working Mum or your work is at home, there just never seems to be any time for you. Am I right? Of course I am!

So from now on, my one day a week when I'm babyfree is going to be spent on ME. Not running errands or cleaning. I'm going to spend it with friends or drinking coffee very slowly whilst people watching. I might even lay on the sofa and start my MadMen box set or even, although very unlikely, nap.

And I think, where possible, you should do the same.