Counting those blessings

The last few weeks I have been feeling pretty rubbish. I have been letting things get on top of me and I was losing the fun a lot. Almost completely.  This is my selfish moment to moan. To write it all down and to get it off my chest, I can then pick myself up, brush myself off and get on with enjoying the life that I have been blessed with.

My children are children. Normal children. They don’t always listen. They don’t always eat nicely. They shout at me. I shout at them. They don’t always place nicely. They have tantrums. They throw toys, break things and mess about. They are jealous of each other and they both want to be 100% the focus of all attention, all the time. There is only 1 of me.

My marriage isn’t perfect, Andrew and I don’t always see eye to eye and I am good at sulking which means we don’t talk. We are both stubborn and have the capacity to be pig headed. We both avoid doing things in the hope that the other person will.

Working full time with 2 children to look after is exhausting. I feel like I spend my week chasing round making sure they are in preschool at the right time, that I am at work on time and that I collect them on time and from the right place. I struggle with being late, I get really anxious about it and this is really wearing me down. I always try and start each day fresh but when sleep is lacking it is hard.

I am a human being and I get jealous. Since 2014 dawned there have been 7 or 8 births around us and I am jealous. I love my children and I wouldn’t change them or they way they entered my world but I wanted a birth child and I doubt that will ever leave me. Finding out that I have a genetic mutation has nailed that coffin lid firmly shut and the hammering reminded me.

But.

My children are children. Normal children.  We are not experiencing much different to other parents providing we stick to our routine. Outside of t his comfort zone we only have ourselves to blame.

 Andrew does support me. He helps around the house and the garden and he will do the shopping when I am work and he is not. He does what he can, when he can and makes a valid point that he is not a mind reader – if I don’t tell him then he doesn’t know.

I have a job. A reasonably paid job with a flexible team leader who has supported me and doesn’t make a big deal when I am 5 minutes late and end up cutting short my lunch to cover it.

I am healthy, ok I am over weight and loosing it would do me no harm but I am healthy. I can play football with my children, I can chase them, pick them up, cuddle them and tickle them. I have a genetic mutation but it will not kill me. At least, not in the foreseeable future.

 
I have a lot to look forward to. We have plans to go places, to see things and visit people. My little boy is going to 5 in a couple of months and we are working towards a party for him. He will then start school. Before that I have my own birthday to look forward to.

I need to count the blessings that I have and try to work round everything else. Insanity is not an option. Today.