Banished from the Bedroom

Anyone who reads this blog regularly may have noticed that I get sick a lot. The kids bring something that involves sore throats and endless runny noses home, and after a week of them being up in the night and rushing off to the doctor, and sometimes the hospital, I go down like a ton of bricks.

It happened again. But this time I did things differently.

Instead of keeping on going (last time I was so ill I could barely stand up, but there I was, cooking dinner) I gave up. Removed myself from the family, down to the spare room, set myself up with eleven Mills&Boon's, and re arranged the furniture so I could see the TV, and there I have stayed. We've had take-away five times in the last ten days. But I don't care. The cleaners were due and you couldn't see the floor for toys, so instead of rushing about tidying up, I cancelled them. The cats ran out of cat food, they are temporarily eating dog food. Do. Not. Care.

And it's worked.

Hubby isn't sure who this reasonable, coherent, well-rested person is, but he kind of likes her and thinks he vaguely remembers her from when they first met. The kids have chilled out, thrilled to have a mum who is calm, enthusiastic and willing to spend an hour making playdough pizza, and so on. I just wish I'd figured this out earlier.

You have to look after yourself before you look after everyone else.