Feeling ill. Thought I was just a bit wheezy on account of blowing up balloons on Sunday and the fact that my inhaler has run out. But felt like rubbish all day and had to endure work with a missed deadline and that fuzzy, semi-out of body feeling you sometimes get at the onset of minor illness.
Trains were running on a Saturday timetable and then it was delayed by 35 minutes because of 'undesirables' and the police being called. Finally got home at 7.40pm though still feeling positive because of the beautiful, sunny evening.
Got the boys some supper. Story and bedtime for the older two. Struggled for an hour trying to be patient an encourage them to sleep before losing it spectacularly and shouting mean and unreasonable things at them. Stomped downstairs. Toddler surgically attached himself to my leg. Stomped back upstairs with toddler in arms and look of black fury on my face to deal with one crying son and one defiant son. Said some more unreasonable things. Shouted at limpet toddler for daring to wriggle too much in my arms. Felt ill and decidedly UN-sunny.
Apologies, hugs and some soothing words for the older two and they finally quiet into sleep. A 'discussion' about wellington boots and some Mummy milk for the smaller one and he eventually drifts off too.
It's 10pm. I feel wound up and tired. And hungry. I cook tea for myself and the other half. I can't help but resent the fact that during this Daddy and his friend are watching the football/playing a computer game. I also can't help but make it known by continuing to stomp; scowl firmly planted upon my face.
11pm and tea is cooked at eaten. I still need a shower before I can go to bed because my hair desperately needs washing. And so here I am. At 10 past midnight. Not in bed. Not taking a word of advice from my own post below. Not feeling at peace.
Time for sleep. Tomorrow is another day.
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