Is it just me who sometimes feels they have stumbled into a life they hadn't planned?
Not all the time.
Mostly I like it, and I recognise that being at home with the kids is a luxury many women - and men - long for but can't afford.
But... it's not what I expected to be doing.
I expected to continue my career, to use my education and professional training and skills.
I think these are now so rusty after years of disuse as to be non-existent.
I'm good at making a tit of myself though, that's a skill I still use regularly, to keep it sharp.
In case any of you UK gals are wondering, these photos were taken a couple of weeks ago. I haven't become so unhinged as to wear a winter coat on a warm sunny day.
Not yet anyway...
The original intention behind these pics was a jokey look - sexy neutrals! post, since my disdain for beige and camel and neutrals in general is common knowledge to most of you.
But the photos... oh dear, the photos gave me pause.
I look sad. Not just in a Chronic Bitchface way, but properly downhearted, dispirited, tired and old.
So I shelved the idea.
1970s Alexon wool/faux fur coat, 1960s slip, sunglasses and faux pearls - charity shopped
Bangles - gift from my favourite freckleface Tania
Lurex fishnets - gift from darling skip-filling Vix
Shoes - retail, ancient
Just so you know, I am not meaning to denigrate the hard work and valuable contributions of stay-at-home mothers.
It just isn't what I anticipated for myself, and now I seem a little stuck with a role in which I'm not sure I am either effective or satisfied. This is a view I hold about myself, no one else.
Don't mind me; in a couple of days I'll be whizzing round the charity shops, selling on Ebay, helping out at school, feeling more productive, and counting my blessings, of which there are many.
I credit blogging, a less provocative equivalent of Lucy Jordan's urge to run naked through the shady streets, screaming all the way, with helping me avoid her fate on the Paris rooftop. I adore this song, but had no idea when I first heard it in 1979, that I would come to identify with Lucy's story.
Funny how things turn out.
Oh good grief, give me slap or a shake in your comments, snap me out of this!
I don't feel at my most visible, but I'm taking my angst and my neutrals over to Patti's as usual. She may throw me out for being a misery but it's a risk I'm prepared to take!