Set yourself an unrealistic target but find it really hard to give up on? Find yourself running to stand still, then realise you’re not actually standing still, you’re sliding backwards?
I think I’ve hit my limit. Four children right now are slightly more than I can cope with. Washing, shopping, cooking, picking stuff up and sewing, and there is my day gone. Tweeting or blogging happens like now, one handed with a feeding baby in the other arm, or snatched in twenty minutes of a swimming lesson while the bottomless pit sleeps in his car seat.
The end of the day comes around too soon, before I’ve done half of what I need to, and the morning appears before I’ve had a fraction of the sleep I need.
And yet, we’re three months in. In another three months Tigerboy will probably be ready for starting solids (baby lead weaning, here we come) and my path to ultimate redundancy will begin. There will never be another child this dependent on me as he is right now, never another one who will stare at me with this mixture of love, need and trust.
Already I’m missing it.
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