I feel blue at the moment. My soul feels sad.
There’s no getting away from it. There’s no point in me putting on a brave face and pretending otherwise. It’s all the pretending that leads to much of the unhappiness in the world anyway if you ask me.
The amount of times this year that I’ve thought (and said to hubby) I can’t take much more of this. I have no choice though, so I keep taking it.
I was woken up at 5:30 this morning by my 17mo screaming the house down, as he does every morning around this time. I felt like I was hungover, despite not having had any booze or even sugar yesterday.
P had got up ten minutes or so beforehand and gone downstairs with hubby. C shortly followed and I was in the kitchen cooking breakfast by 6am.
For the next three hours until the girls and hubby left for gymnastics we had a tough time. The pinching. The shouting in faces. Activities lasting three seconds before getting bored with them. Picking up the baby and dropping him, then laughing about it.
She’s worried about going to gymnastics because she doesn’t like it when everyone stares at her, and coos over her calling her cute. She needs the gymnastics though, because it’s really helping her with balance and core strength.
Ultimately what would be good for her in these circumstances is being separated from the little ones, and having some space on her own. It’s almost impossible to orchestrate in our little, open plan house though. Coupled with the fact that she hates actually being on her own, we’re up against it.
As awful as it is to say out loud, my life is not very enjoyable at the moment. It’s varying degrees of difficult. My plans often get cancelled. My needs and wants are always at the bottom of the pile. Most of the time I accept this with good grace, this is what it means to be a mother after all.
As I was walking F around the block to get him off for a nap in his buggy after they left, I read a blog post written by a grieving mother and it made me stop in my tracks.
Because no matter how hard my life seems, no-one has died. I have three beautiful children, a fabulous husband, a roof over my head and people in my life whom I adore.
We just have a lot going on. We have a toddler that is very dependent and attached to me, who is up at least twice in the night, sometimes for hours. We have a 6yo who is autistic; and another child in the middle who is trying to assert her place in the world but spends her life in a state of confusion. Not knowing which way is up and which is down.
A bit like me right now.
Sleep deprivation really is torture, and it’s been six long years for us. I honestly cannot even remember the last time I had more than five solid hours. It was some time last year, when I thought I was super woman and wrote a book in the early hours of the morning.
I know things will improve, but if one more person tells me to hang in there I think I might scream.
For today though, I shall keep reminding myself that nothing terrible has happened.
Although it feels like my plate is piled high with crap it’s not always going to be this way.
I just need to get my positivity back.