Sour

Today has been a day of wrong notes and stress, tears and little traumas.

A cold day, icy, uncomfortable. A hurried morning rush, complete with shouting and messes and unhappiness. A preschooler who didn't want to go to creche, and me without patience to soothe her through it. A silent drive with a partner with gloomy things on his mind and no wish to share them. A wheezing chest, asthma getting the better of me until hosed down with medication that then made my heart turn cartwheels for an hour.

Then, a meeting that went well enough, followed by complications and projections that make me feel slightly panic-stricken, gazing down the barrel of three months of extremely hard work, during which I will need to maintain focus, energy and health so I can bring my A game to each document I write.

Then, instead of my craved-for quiet late afternoon at the shops and at home with my girls, we had a sudden fall, a sliced-open chin and a dash to hospital, believing we'd need stitches in a 3 year old's soft skin. The day's mercy was being seen quickly and treated with steri-strips and skin glue instead - I am so very grateful for that.

As I might have predicted, this drama was then followed by reactive crappiness from the big girls, sniping at each other, mouthing off at me, being generally disagreeable in their tiredness and relieved anxiety. Partner and I also talked about what was troubling him, which, while a good thing, opened up another can of worry-worms in my gut.

And just now, a sobbing, contrite eldest girl, who'd not 10 minutes ago been loudly declaiming how she'd NEVER go ANYWHERE with me when she is a grown-up, cuddled up to my side and told me she doesn't like me working so much and that she wants more one on one time with me.

After that lot, I have just one question left:

Is it bedtime yet? Please?