Go the f*ck to sleep…

I haven’t much to share here as my devil children are still wailing and generally causing my hair to silver and wrinkles to deepen as I type this. I love them dearly, but my god I love them so much more when they are quiet and asleep.

We had a terrible night last night with both of them grumbly/crying. Both have seemed to pick up viruses really easily at the moment and my patience is wearing thin.

I have to sort a few things for my son, as I’m wondering if he’s got water behind his ear drums (I had numerous operations for this as a small child) and it would explain a lot. He covers his ears if he hears specific noise pitches, and if he’s feeling under the weather he complains that his ears are sore. His speech has also deteriorated and he struggles to form certain sounds, so it could be linked. I’m speaking to his preschool about speech therapy tomorrow, so will see what they think.

I’m sorry this isn’t a particularly inspiring or interesting post, but I can’t not write something as I promised myself I would! 

It’s been one of those days of adulting. You know the ones – they’re dull, relentless and full of mundane tasks that need to be done even though I’d rather see Trump naked than do them. All the while accompanied by two bickering, screeching tiny children. At one point I pleaded with them to please just be nice to each other for forty five seconds because I wanted to pick dog poo up in the garden. It’s all glamour here, let me tell you.

So, this post might a little dreary, but hey, isn’t life sometimes? Fireworks and excitement are great, but it’s not representative of everyday. Plus I haven’t the energy to share anything more insightful… hopefully tomorrow will be better, and my children will finally go the fuck to sleep.

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It’s all in the balance…

Life’s all a balancing act, apparently. We all have busy lives, these days, and many balls that we valiantly attempt to juggle while keeping a cheery and positive demeanour. Sound familiar?

But how do you get the balance right? Seriously, I’m asking for tips here. Because most of the time I feel swamped, like I’m drowning, and I can’t even fit in the lifeboat because the kids are throwing a tantrum in there. Everywhere I turn there’s stuff to do, people to look after and who need attention and not enough time to cram it all into.

It’s not all as gloomy as it sounds. Sometimes I have days that I manage more than I could ever have anticipated. So many chores achieved (that’s extra plus the daily mountain), brilliantly fun games with the children, maybe some baking in a (not often) spotless kitchen. I might even squeeze in a shower, or apply make up too. I am woman, hear me roar.

And then, there are days where nothing gets done. Nada, zilch, zip. Intentions are great, execution is piss poor; because both kids have decided to screech for no reason, or the dog is having a bit of a wild day, or despite the fact I’ve spent the whole damn day racing around attempting to get things done, at the end of the day, I’ve achieved nothing. Nada, zilch, zip.

It only takes a few of those days before I feel utterly overwhelmed and defeated. The self doubts set in. I berate myself harshly. Tears are shed, usually irrationally. The days feel like endless gloom, with a bit of bleak tossed in as well. I realise that I haven’t shared my time equally. One of my many loves will have been compromised in the midst of the madness, and the guilt sets in. I’m not doing this right. Maybe I’m not but out to be a mum. They all deserve better than me. Etc.

I find it so difficult when this hits, because I’ve had depression throughout my life and postnatal depression after my son. And I’m never quite sure if I’m back there, and I need help, or whether it’s a rough patch that will pass. Whether it will pass, or get worse. Whether I’ll hit so low I won’t even notice that I’m seriously ill again. And whether medication would even work, as it didn’t last time (on a separate note, sometimes I conveniently forget that drinking on the medication would no doubt have contributed to this and negated much of the needed affect of the drugs. I chose self medication, and not to bleat on about my alcoholism again but that didn’t go so well. Obviously.) 

I think what I need to remember is that every parent has these days too – whether you’re working or stay at home, mum or dad. I don’t think anyone ever warns you of the crippling guilt that is a huge part of parenthood, and how overwhelming it can feel at times. How frustrating it can be to not manage to successfully toilet in peace, let alone tackle the laundry. But I’ll be checking myself, just to make sure that I’m not on a slippery slope. I don’t want to go back there again.

(If you or someone you know have beenaffected  by postnatal depression – or any perinatal depression – there is a twitter support group that runs between 8-9pm GMT to talk. It’s called PND Hour, and you can find it on #PNDHour. Also #pndchat is checked daily if you are struggling at any time, so please reach out. And the wonderful founder is Rosey at @PNDandme. The people in there have saved my sanity on many occasions, so please get involved, it’s a wonderful community.)