Diary of an Exhausted Mother

Monday: The week starts with a morning call from the nursery that my baby has a scarlet fewer and I needs to be collected. Evening spent at a drafty doctors reception.

Tuesday: My hubby and I are looking after the baby for the day whilst maintaining full time jobs hoping we don’t get fired.

Wednesday: Hubby is on a business trip and I need to go to the dentist. Relying of kindness of strangers to help me with the baby, pram, bags. Dog wants to bite a Labrador that walks past and bites my leg instead. Next stop: tetanus injection.

Thursday: Boiler breaks down in the morning. I work from home steadily adding layers of clothes. End of day I wear parka jacket and a pair o skiing socks so I make it through conference calls. At 5pm with shivering teeth I end up booking a hotel so we can stay warm for the night. Not a dog friendly as I get it in a terrible rush. I cannot leave our dog home in cold so need to sneak him through the reception so we don’t get kicked out. Doing all I can to hide the white tail wagging from the bottom storage part of the pram. I cannot take him out for a wee after we get in the room so no one can see us and the poor little thing has to manage the whole night with his legs (paws) crossed.

Friday: Lunch with mother in law that has an advanced dementia and does not remember how to use the bathroom. We manage to successfully get through the lunch without needing to go!

Saturday: hopping on Ryanair flight with my daughter to collect my mom who is ill cannot make it to the UK for Christmas on her own. As soon as I get on board, stewardess confiscates my aero stroller and puts it in hold. Might be a small nuisance if it is a normal bag, but it brings me in flood of tears for the rest of the flight just imagining that I have to carry a toddler, bag and coats through the whole Prague airport all on my own.

Sunday: Flying back to the UK after a sleepless night with sick and elderly mother and a very active toddler.

Can I get a box of tissues and a bunch of cinnamon rolls please so I can just curl up in a corner, stuff myself with sugar and cry?

Disclaimer: below pictures certainly do not correspond to how I look after I survive this week.

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