Ramblings of a ever so frazzled carer...

Hmmm. Having vented my everything in the previous post, and feeling ever so guilty for getting it "out there" I've done an enormous amount of housework. No change there then...

I have to admit that I'm feeling an awful lot better for having got my awful ramblings out earlier, even though they make me sound like the carer from hell (and I probably am - especially if you were to ask hubby), but when I started writing my blog I promised myself that I would be honest, and I am sticking to that, even though it's difficult to do and sometimes I have tears when I'm tippy tappying away at the keyboard. Once I've got them off my chest I feel a lot better for it, and surely that makes me a better carer to hubby (in a round about way).

I missed a call from hubby's nurse earlier today and I think that compounded my feelings. Although I'm struggling with hubby's behaviour and temper outbursts at the moment, I'm cross with myself because I feel like I'm failing at the "job" I'm supposed to be doing for him. I shouldn't be getting upset or short tempered because of it, it is afterall his illness. I should be able to take it on the chin, to just get on with it, and not want to get a voodoo doll out (don't panic, I don't have a voodoo doll), and I should just bite my tongue (which I do - but sweet Jesus, I struggle with that one).

I have thrown myself into tidying since writing my "how awful am I?" blog of earlier this afternoon. The house smells of Lemons (God bless that double concentrated Gel stuff that doesn't leak and works wonders) and I've been around with the Jasmine Pledgey stuff, to the point where Biggey went "mummy, I can smell that now - cough, cough". (Note to self, infliciting substance abuse on eldest child is another strike on the "shite mother" list we're ticking off at the moment, and whilst I only mentioned Biggey, it's not that I don't care about inflicting substance abuse on Middley or Littley, they weren't here at the time.)

I've cleaned the bathroom, although scrubbing the shower tray when the shower is on only means I'm going to get as wet as I would have done if I was standing outside, and changed the handwash and thrown out the empty toilet roll. I've made an apple pie and survived Middley chopping the apples without having to do any first aid, and without having to catch any fingers whilst they flew across the room - no thumbs either. I've scrubbed the short pastry from my ring hubby gave me nearly twenty years ago, and yes, I will remember to take them off next time I'm making pastry.

So now I'm waiting for him to come home. I'm forgiving myself for my little (ok... not so little) blip of earlier today, and will do that terribly British stiff upper lip thingy that I've allowed to become a pet lip and will try and drop the self pity m'larky because afterall, there's always other's worse off than yourself. To them I tip my hat. You are amazing. xx