Rush.....

Today I feel tired, rushed and slightly panicky.

In fact not just today, every day.

This feeling caused me to eat a packet of biscuits, surprise, surprise they didn’t help!

I feel like I’m gasping for breath, running through treacle and falling down the rabbit hole all in one go.

The two year old has started saying, ‘One Mint’ little index finger poised up in the air, which he got from me constantly saying, ‘One minute, one minute’ when he asks me to play, open something, look at him, read or generally help him in anyway. That should make me slow down, realise he’s the most important thing and leave the clothes washing, wiping the table, filling the dish washer, tidying the toys or whatever other task I think is pressing right now.

It doesn’t.

It just fills me with more guilt.

The five year old just screams my name, over and over again to get my attention, getting stroppier and stroppier until I finally snap,

‘I’m listening, now!’

Only to be met with a frustrated yelp and an

‘AWW! I’ve forgotten NOW!’

‘YOU MADE ME FORGET MUMMY!’

It only adds to the guilt, my language challenged son had something to tell me and I ruined it! (The fact this quiet, shy boy who struggles to tell his teacher his name never stops chattering, demanding attention and questioning me does not make it easier!)

Yesterday I was trying to read with the five year old, clear the clothes from the floor, spray a dry shampoo and put my make up on.  The eye shadow palette a luxurious present from my sister in law, huge- too big to fit in my make up bag lines upon lines of similar shades a row of ten browns, a row of ten pinks, ten greens, ten greys designed to make me pretty.

I did one eye in grey and then distracted by a fight, the two year old jumping on the bed and a shout from him indoors, I came to do the other eye and choose a grey a few shades lighter by mistake..... I realised this at lunchtime when I had a second to go to the loo at work and glanced in the mirror.

‘Looking good girl!’  I grimaced at the lank haired monster staring through my soul.

I drive to and from work, hunched over, neck thrust forward, willing the car in front to go faster, jumping the lights and zipping in and out of traffic queues, is this lane going quicker? manoeuvre manoeuvre, manoeuvre, cursing the minutes, hours, days, wasted that I should be spending with the children or spending at work, both roles getting enough to be ticking over in the tightrope walk most working mums carefully balance across, but not enough, not what I want, not what I know I should be capable of.

I just want to breath.......