Since I last wrote I’ve managed to hold up my hands, admit defeat, and ask for help. Thursday was really, really hard, and I knew I was getting too close to breaking point for comfort. The day did end, I did get some sleep (went to bed same time as the kids) and yesterday was easier to handle for it. What also helped immensely is that my parents have taken the kids for the weekend to give Hubby and I some space to breathe.
Dad suggested it first, maybe on Wednesday. My initial reaction was no. Then I flipped over to desperately wanting to say yes, but feeling massively guilty about it, both for putting pressure on my folks, yet again, but also because I felt like I was shipping the kids out when I should be looking after them. But here’s the thing. I was too stressed to be the mom they’re used to. I was exhausted. I was snapping, a lot. And I was getting overwhelmed. So for once, common sense won out, and the kids are now up in Kildare being spoilt once more by two sets of grandparents, and I feel incredibly relieved. We badly, badly needed this space. Hubby is still in an incredible amount of pain and not able to do a whole lot, and I just need some time to regroup so I can go into next week in a reasonably good frame of mind. Tiredness is one of my biggest triggers, it takes no time at all for the wheels to fall off when I’m tired, because perspective just goes out the window.
Last night I hooked up with a friend who plied me with wine and chocolate, and I talked at her without drawing breath for a good hour. It helped immensely.
Today, I’ve gotten dressed and fed us, and that’s about it. For the rest of the day, I plan on doing some housekeeping on the blog that I’ve wanted to do for months but just haven’t been able to fit in. I might potter about the garden a bit if the weather ever settles. I might walk the dogs. I might even allow myself the luxury of a bath later. I need to take care of me, and for once, that doesn’t feel like an alien thing to do.