I feel utterly drained.
I sit down on the sofa clutching a cup of tea, in front of the TV to wind down and I’m not really concentrating.
I don’t even have the energy to watch the TV.
I concentrate on the warmth of the mug and drift away.
My two children are on their school holidays and I took the decision to stop working for the six-week duration (I work from home) so we could be together. I am blessed to be able to do that. I wanted to do that.
But they have worn me down. We’ve had great fun and spent lots of great times together, but when they’re tired they’re bickering and winding each other up and using me as a pissing post (sorry).
I’ve ferried them around, played host to their friends, organised activities, days out, days in, cinema trips, picnics.
I’ve baked, made favourite meals, let the bedtime routine slip.
They’ve gone to bed with filthy feet, worn the same clothes for days on end, lived in bare feet and not had to brush their hair unless we’re actually seeing another human being.
And now I’m tired. Really tired. And I’ve still got another three and a bit weeks to go.
But here’s the thing.
In a few years time these two intense, demanding, full-on children probably won’t want much to do with me.
They’ll be off having their own fun and won’t want mum ferrying them around/cramping their style/flattening their hair down with spit on the end of her fingers (yes, yes I do, and anyone who says they don’t are LYING).
One day, he won’t want me sitting on his bed chatting about the day, reading together, sewing his Cubs badges on together.
She won’t want me brushing her hair 100 times before bedtime to ‘make it grow like Rapunzel’. Or memorising the parts of a horse. Or writing up her scrapbook and sticking in ‘interesting leaves’.
And that time fills me with a feeling I don’t want to think about.
So in the meantime I’m going to concentrate on feeling drained, because it means I’m wanted.