These last couple of weeks haven’t been the easiest for me.
Teething baby is waking four, five, six times a night. Every night. I’m lucky that Mike and I take turns but still, it’s tiring for us both.
Progress is very slow with the reluctant, argumentative potty trainer which has resulted in daily scrubbing of the carpets/child/me, sometimes more than once.
I’ve been nursing the constant headache from hell, one which I’ve woken up with, has stayed with me all day and I’ve taken to bed with me. Yes, I know I said “hell” and I know it’s a bad word for a bad place but this is a bad headache. And I’ve had it for the best part of a fortnight now.
In turn, the constant headache and complete lack of energy is leaving my already impatient self even more impatient and consequently very, extremely crabby and bad tempered.
It was with relief when three of the boys set off to Boys’ Brigade last night. Paddy was relatively quiet, falling asleep on his potty (again) and Cait was getting ready for Girls’ Brigade. Joseph was kicking away on the carpet leaving me and Oliver to have a conversation together.
A conversation we have several times a day.
Because no matter how fraught, how frazzled and how tired you can get, there is always “I love you, Mummy!” to make it all better.