I have a neighbour, yes we all have them, but I have one who manages to make me feel terrible with just a single glance and a turn of phrase. She is always beautifully turned out, drives a brand new sports car, runs her own successful business, has a hot tub in the garden and one perfectly dressed nine year old boy who in her eyes can do no wrong.
So this morning when I am screaming at the boys like a fishwife to get in the car or we will be late, hollering my lungs out to leave the drink at home and just get in the car, who would it be that walks past. Yes you guest it the PP neighbour (practical perfect) and she says “I see you are having issues with the boys again”.
I didn’t know how to respond to that so I just mumbled something about having to be somewhere and get the boys strapped in the car, but it stings, it really does.
The thing is she is right and the truth hurts, I have gone back to the screaming banshee I was before we underwent the trying to give shouting up for lent and I am ashamed. We all seem to be shouting to be heard, I shout, therefore, the boys shout and I feel the need to shout loudest, it is a contest and it shouldn’t be.
I have a temper, a really bad temper and it bubbles up inside until it explodes with a vengeance and I am tired. Mini wasn’t well yesterday and it meant that we had to cancel plans and spend the day in the house and the boys don’t do well without their exercise. But in truth this is an excuse, there is nothing I can say, I shouldn’t be dragging myself down the boys level.
This morning things went from bad to worse, Mini had taken a drink in the car with him, which went everywhere as I drove round a corner far too fast (blackcurrant oh joy) and I started shouting again.
I am really struggling to hold it together, to be the mother I want to be and should be. I miss Mr Smudge desperately, I see him everywhere around the house, a carrier, a cushion on the sofa. I am trying to do the best I can on very little money, even less sleep and be there for my mum too and life is hard.
I am still waiting for the results to my test on the 7 July and have received nothing but excuses from the hospital as to why I haven’t had them – The consultant is on holiday, the radiographer is on holiday, we haven’t received the report from the radiographer, the file is on the consultants desk, his secretary is on holiday. They are sick of me, I rang up this morning and have cried at the cover secretary. I am tired, tired of all the waiting, the not knowing, the health issues I have to live with on a day to day basis.
Please don’t think this post is a cry for attention, as I don’t do that. I am not looking for sympathy, I just wanted to get it all out and to try and writing does that for me.