Surviving

Ever have one of those days where someone says ‘How you doing?’, and you reply ‘Surviving’?

Or worse, where no one asks.

I get up, and deal with the normal ruckus that goes on in our house in the morning. We had a few late nights in a row, so we’ve got some over-tired kids.

K can’t find her jumper. “It’s in the wash, remember, it’s been raining, I’m still trying to catch up.”

M storms through the house, banging cupboards, bumping into kids. I send her away for some quiet time.

Miss S sits at the table, waiting for breakfast. Not so patiently.

I call N to the table, and she promptly bursts into tears. I ask her to come back when she’s finished the waterworks.

Master D comes and tells me he’s got a headache. I tell him I don’t care, I’m dealing with a million-and-one other things right now.

I serve breakfast, with only half the kids in tears.

Later, I feel Master D’s head. He’s really warm. Poor kid is actually sick. And I told him I didn’t care. Crap. A case of Mummy Guilt strikes.

The phone rings, “Hey honey,” says my Mother, “how are you doing?”

“Fine,”, I say, “just fine.”

I smile.

Someone cares.

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