I am holding on tight to the good things at the minute. Its 1:30pm as I am writing this and it has already been a long, hard day...the kind that includes, but is not limited to:
:: 1.5 hours of crying from a small boy before 9am because he: wants to go down stairs, Doesn't want to go down stairs. Wants his dada, doesn't want his dada. Wants eggs, doesn't want eggs. And so on and so forth.
:: Playgroup looking more like a wrestling match with me, the 9 month sumo, man handling various toddlers
::Walking across the bridge from town in tears, certain that I can not cope with Ellis AND another child.
:: Still coughing and aching from the nasty flu/cold thing I have caught from my delightful son.
:: Coming home to take a bath, realising the boiler is broken (again) and is unlikely to be fixed for a few days at least. Is this a good point to mention that I am 39weeks pregnant and planning a homebirth?
And so, after a good cry and a cup of tea and a few rows of knitting, I sat down to write this and count my blessings.
