My home looks like it was ransacked by aliens, my skin is pale, the laundry basket is neglected and is shouting its annoyance by allowing underpants and uniforms to spill out under the lid and thus mocking my incompetence. Last nights dishes are still piled in the sink growing a soft covering of fur on the remains of that evenings ready meal. The baby is sporting the heavy nappy look as I try to imagine contemplating the task of changing her and the twins look like they have been dueling with the Gruffalo as their faces assume a bruised look from the remains of yesterdays face painting.
Egg shells are scattered all around me, but the twins seem to delight in stamping on them thus summoning my inner demon who quickly bursts from my throat with a roar. I hear them run away giggling and calling ‘mummy’s grumpy.’ The demon retreats but is waiting, ready for the next moment that she will need to shout again.
I look like death, blue circles outline my eyes edged with three-day old mascara, cracked glasses replace my usual contacts, and my hair is styled by a scarecrow.
What has happened?
What has caused this descent into madness?
I will tell you…..
Sheer. Bloody. Exhaustion.
I am knackered, I could sleep for a week – but since that is not an option I have to just cope with grabbing five minutes on the loo at set periods through the day.
I require eight hours sleep a night, minimum. I can manage on seven on occasion, but anything with a six or less in it; that is tantamount to torture.
In three days I have had twelve hours….
Work ate up one night in a great big gulp.
Dancing and drunkenness swallowed the next night whole.
And last night’s sleep was stolen by a teething baby with a breast obsession.
I miss it, I crave it, my unmade bed calls to me like a siren from the sea.
The nanny dog takes her day off on a sunday which leaves me with only he who helped create them to turn to, to grant me permission to return to slumber.
But do you know what?
Did you hear the rumours?
Its bloody fathers days so he gets to sleep.
So to he who helped create them – I wish you a happy day – but as I am a realist I would like to take this opportunity to pre warn you that it could be a stinker!