Today was one of those days. My pregnancy is advancing and I’m sleeping less soundly. I’m feeling more tired in the mornings than I was even as I went to bed the night before. Yet I’m trying to keep the kids’ routines going as well as managing the house and garden, working 2 days a week and a few other church commitments. I enjoy all of it, but it is getting harder.
Today I had J’s swimming lessons in the morning and an obstetrician appointment in the afternoon.
Should have been manageable, but it wasn’t.
I made it to both commitments (barely), but I must have looked like a bit of a mess to the obstetrician. As I was leaving, he actually said to me “I can organise with the hospital for you to have a few days break, you know”. Great. I thought I was at least appearing to hold myself together. I mumbled hastly that I’d be OK and slinked out of the consulting rooms before I burst into tears.
Then I got home and took a look around the house. This is what it looked like.
The kitchen hadn’t been touched since our dinner guests left last night. Yes, that is a piece of roast chicken still sitting on a meat tray. And many dirty dishes, and breakfast spreads still open on the bench, and a gas cylinder next to the stove (don’t ask!).
The kids’ breakfast bowls still half full of weetbix remnants.
And the playroom, covered in toys with the kids glued to the tv, turning into square-eyes.
So I called P at work and warned him that I wasn’t coping very well and that the house was beyond disgraceful. He very graciously left work immediately, came straight home and cleaned up the house for me.
You see, I really have nothing to complain about. My husband is wonderful, my kids are actually very well behaved, I have wonderful family and friends, and most importantly a God who loves me.
But sometimes, you just get tired.
No Tuesday Night Vego from me this week. We did eat vegetarian, but I don’t think fusilli arrabbiata counts.
I promise to pull myself together to show you some exciting garden developments tomorrow.