I’m not going to lie; I’ve struggled this week.
What started on Friday as not taking S out in the snow because she didn’t have a waterproof snowsuit, and I didn’t want to slip up, and it was cold… by Monday had become “hand me those flannel pyjamas; if you want me I’ll be melting into the sofa.” Lack of fresh air and human contact has quickly seen me regress a few years to the unsociable, miserable wretch I used to be, back when it was just me.
Of course, now it’s not just me. I can’t really sit and wallow much. I still have to get us up and dressed at a reasonable time; S still needs her breakfast around 8:30, her nap at 10, her lunch at 12 and so on. But the bits in between, where I usually do the washing up, take the bins out, generally clean and tdy, they sort of went out the window and I ended up doing the bare minimum to keep S from crawling around in filth. If she weren’t here things would be a lot worse.
It’s at times like this I tend to think it would be handy not to be a single mother. There’s nobody here on a regular basis to notice that I’ve started to slip. There’s nobody to care. There was a person who was supposed to be here, and to care… but he did neither.
So the only thing to do is say, Balls to this! If nobody’s going to help me, and failure is not an option, I’d better sort myself out. And pretty damn quickly too.
And now, I’m off to clean the kitchen.
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