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Sunday 19th March 2023


I was up early with the kids, who were very excited about Mother’s Day, but Catie had got in late and was sleeping in the attic and I managed to dissuade them from waking her at 6.30am. Phoebe was desperate to make Catie breakfast, even if that meant ruining her lie-in, but I convinced her to wait until 8am before she started making it. She (and mainly I) made a strawberry smoothie and caramelised apricots with ice cream and honey. It had been a great job from me, as I had woken up feeling almost as bad as ever. 
I had then planned to make a roast lunch for Catie  and Catie’s mum and family were coming over too, but it was all too much. And aside from peeling some parsnips I did nothing and had to go and lie down. 
But maybe doing breakfast and allowing Catie to have a fun night out was reward enough.
I came down to eat lunch, but then had to go back to bed and slept for most of the afternoon, so I didn’t even do the child care. Worst Mother’s Day ever.
Apart from breakfast. And the lie-in. Remember that.
And by the end of it all Catie was knackered and maybe coming down with whatever bullshit bug I’ve got and I had slept too much in the day so struggled to get to sleep at night. It was a disaster.
I’ve talked to people who have taken three months to get over something that sounds like this. I am four weeks in, more or less. May God have mercy on my soul.

All the things I have blogged through in the last 20 years, but this is proving the most difficult. I suppose being laid up after having a ball removed had enough incident to feed this material hungry format, but just feeling crap and depressed is not conducive to blogging and I’ve come the closest to giving up (or getting too far behind to properly remember stuff) as I’ve ever been. The relentless viral prick has made me question the point of anything and my worth to the world and that’s not something that makes you want to read about. But here I am writing it anyway.
My life used to be full of incident, but being a parent means there's much less stuff happening to me and being an ill parent reduces that almost nothing to a negative value.
The podcasting has felt too relentless too - it’s much harder to enjoy when you’re not sparking off on all cylinders. I think I’ve done an adequate job through the illness but the negative mindset is making me question it all.  The idea of doing two more interviews under the fug of exhaustion is a little overwhelming. 
I’ll get over it. And look I haven’t broken the chain. On we roll. Hopefully the bug will kill me soon and I can finally get some sleep.

It was wonderful to see the kids (and Phoebe in particular) so excited about celebrating their mum, though obviously if she doesn’t put in the same effort on Father’s Day then I am going to KICK OFF.

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