This has been one of the worst weekends I care to recall. From Friday afternoon, I have been left to look after the kids. Dana came back last night, but it doesn’t seem to have made a blind bit of difference because, even though she’s back, I’ve still been left to look after the girls.
You women out there are going to have a go at me for complaining but I’m at the point where I actually don’t care how sexist or offensive I’m being – one thing we need to set straight here is that we men are not in any way, shape or form designed to look after children for a period of over two hours. Forty eight hours and we’re in way way way above our heads. Added to this, I’m beginning to wonder if our house is haunted, as I’m finding that the more I tidy up, the more mess there appears to be.
Dana spent the morning cooking lunch for my parents (and a cousin who never showed up), which turned out to be very tasty – more babysitting thrown in my face, whilst she wanted to keep the kids out of the kitchen. She then decides to go for a little sleep and guess who looks after the kids again?
By 6.30 p.m, I was going absolutely spare. There is a point when you reach the “I’m losing my mind” zone and this happened at around 4.00 yesterday afternoon. I adore my kids and would kill myself to protect them, but I need to have some time-out to reclaim my sanity. The combined stress of dealing with bolshy teenagers on a daily basis, trying to teach with the computers not working and then being lumbered with four children who are simply being themselves – without any time to myself to chill out – is just too much for someone with my limited abilities to cope with.