It’s 1.30 am. I am sat in a pitch black bedroom hoping Boo, who woke 90 minutes ago, 20 minutes after I had finished work and come to bed, will fall back asleep soon. He woke himself coughing as he has a bad cold. He can’t self settle. If he wakes we have to sit with him or else all hell breaks loose. I would bring him into our bed so I could sleep a bit, but he has already woken his sister and she is in there where I should be. She has school tomorrow. She needs her rest.
And we have work. Tomorrow we are working around no less than 3 appointments: SALT, a long overdue OT home visit and a flu jab appointment which I hope they will let him have. And I hope this cold won’t be the start of something awful, as it sometimes is. I hope he won’t get too ill. And selfishly, I hope The Grumposaur and I still get to go away on Friday for a special anniversary trip that has been 6 months in the making. Sod’s bloody law.
It’s all in a day and night’s work for us. There is nothing unusual about tonight, tomorrow and this week (except the planned weekend). It’s what life is like – always. The worry. The work.
Sometimes people get a glimpse of it. Odd fed up or embattled Facebook updates. Corridor conversations at work. People are kind. They say I look fabulous. I don’t. I have bags under my eyes. I’m pale. I need to lose a stone in weight. But they’re being nice. I’ll take it. They tell me they don’t know how we cope. How I’m Superwoman. I can’t take that.
There is nothing super about me. I am tired. Really tired. I am wishing Boo would sleep. In the morning I will feel awful until the third coffee kicks in. I will be bad tempered when Sissyboo won’t get out the door to go to school. I will hate myself afterwards. I will drink more coffee to the point I get a terrible headache. I will forget to eat lunch or will eat enough lunch to last me until breakfast the next day. Could go either way. I will forget things. Some might be quite important.
I will tell people I’m fine, although it’s a lie. I will look to the world like I am coping while I am crying inside.
There is nothing super about me. Survival is an instinct. Not a super power.