M25 testosterone

This has been the second week of my first taster of what's to come of Rosie at big school. As the Easter holidays end I'm left with red rimmed, flickery eyes.

The motorway has driven me quite crazy. Yesterday a nasty, mean, pokey, little man in a small white van got cross and started beeping. He hadn't been in the lane when I'd looked a moment before so I can only assume he'd been in my blind spot.

But he went mad and tried to cut me up. And I had Rosie in front with me and I just raged with fury. How dare he put my baby's life at peril because of his stupid little twat ego. So I drove alongside him and screamed out of my window at him, pointing at Rosie.

It seemed the whole M25 was full of testosterone. Fast cars and aggression everywhere. Lots of cutting me up on the inside. Just general arseholeness. And No, I wasn't pootling in the middle lane.

So yesterday the Prince woke up, put on his suit and tie, ate soggy cereal and went to work as usual. He wasn't concerned with how I was planning on doing any of my own work given there were two days left to the week and no school.

I plonked my girl back in the car and drove her back to my mum's. She's started saying she doesn't want to go there anymore - just wants to stay home with me. She kicked up a big stink last night. Hysterically screaming. So that made me cry on the pitch black M25 with its cats' eyes as the only guide.

I walked in and Nat was cooking. I went straight downstairs and said:

"Okay here's the thing," I said. "This week I have been really low. In Birmingham on Wednesday I arrived half an hour early for my meeting and went to the shops. I did some retail therapy. All evening at home I was excited about my new clothes. It made me happy. Fickle yes, shallow sure, but that is how our life together is now. But I left the bag on the Virgin train and it hasn't been handed in."

Nat said: "what a disaster"

I said: "No, Nat, what IS a disaster is that I will be 40 in a few weeks and can't shake off this longing for a baby. It's just getting stronger and stronger.

"I love you and want you," I continued. "I love this house, my life, my job, my friends, this area - everything. I don't want to lose that. But I am carrying around this deep sadness that IS NOT GOING AWAY. It is a longing, a craving and it's getting worse. If I don't take action NOW I fear I will hate you one day and look back on these wasted years with regret."

I told him there was a chance - I was holding it out for him. We could be a family. He says he wants more kids. So either we do this as a team or we up sticks and say adieu.

I think it is better for if Rosie grows up with me not being bitter and twisted old hag and I have to face reality etc etc.

I concluded: "If you really want another baby like you say it's time you put your money where your mouth is".

And guess what? He fell silent.

I went to bed and that was that. Only it's not. I have found a sweet little flat I could live in. I'm thinking maybe move in Rosie's summer holiday break. That would be an opportune time to split up and settle her elsewhere.

He said not a word about it. I don't expect he will.

This morning he did hug me and off he pootled on his scooter to work. He rang at midday and said he was going to a work dinner that he had "forgotton" to mention. I thought that was a bit off, given the contents of what burst forth last night.

After a wholly unproductive day of awful work emails and phone calls, I'm back behind the driving wheel and on the M25 again.

Collect my girl and on way home forgot to put lights on. A car overtook me on the A2, moved in front of me and put its hazards on. I thought at first "what a friendly person saying thank you for hanging back". But then the hazards went on again and I realised my lights weren't on. I turned them on and flashed a thank you. Then off the little car sped into the distance.

It was such a lovely gesture I burst out crying. I'll never know that person but whoever it was made my evening - just by being a bit human.