Sometimes being an adult isn't all its cracked up to be. In fact sometimes it's pretty pants.
For some weeks now I've been refusing to admit the blindingly obvious but now, hunkered down with my knitting and the first time alone with my thoughts all week, the blindingly obvious has finally made itself felt.
I can't go to Edinburgh Yarn Festival this year. Cue much wailing and gnashing of teeth.
DH needs to have a knee op (scheduled date also coincides with Unravel - but I'll gloss over that). His recuperation (and no airline travel) period means that he won't be able to fly with us to Edinburgh and I would have to take the boys on my own. He won't be mobile enough to take care of them at home and my parents are away on holiday that week.
I was fully intending to make it work but this morning I've realised the futility of what I'm trying to do. We would spend the weekend trying to cram in all the sightseeing the boys want to do and all the yarn shopping/sniffing/chatting that I want to do and in reality no one will probably get to enjoy themselves very much at all.
Far better to be sensible and grown up and admit that this year it just isn't going to work. And if we want DH to get his knee sorted so that we can carry on doing team things we want to do as a family then we just need to accept that this year, we can't do some of the things we would like to.
It's the grown up and sensible thing to do, but right now I feel like being 5 and having a full on tantrum. I want to go! But there will be other years and other shows.
At the very least I need to plan a yarn shopping outing for that weekend as a treat. I may have to take a short trip down to Loop as an alternative.
I know it's the right decision but right now I'm just going to hide out under my blanket, eat chocolate and indulge my inner 5 year old in a full on sulk.