Aren't we due a day off?

Hello. I didn't write anything yesterday, and it feels like eons ago - although you might have enjoyed the break from the daily drudgery that is Constantly Trying's life (shame on you... lol).

I know I have a car. I pay the insurance for it. The name on the registration document is mine. I have a set of keys for it... it's just I never see it. Occasionally it's parked outside our house, but I'm getting a lot more sunshine in the living room at the moment due to it never being there. I see hubby fleetingly, although at the moment it's a bit of a blessing because when he does see me the comments coming from his mouth are usually unsavoury. My favourite comment today was "don't walk too close to me. It's not as if you have the looks that warrants standing close to me"... nice... I don't think so.

At the end of last week the girls revolted. They told daddy that he always has the car. That he never does anything with them, and I'm never allowed out of the house so they were "booking" the car for today so that we could go to the beach. Come Hell or high water we were going to the seaside. It wouldn't have mattered if we were wearing wellies and kagools (love that word even if I'm not sure I've spelt it right...) we were going, and we did. The sunshine was glorious, the sky was blue, the water was frothing and there was hardly anyone else there. You could see Bamburgh Castle and Holy Island on the horizon and the warm sand covered our feet before the lovely warm water washed it off.

Daddy had a couple of moments of tantrum - like not wanting to be there, the tide being in so he couldn't let the dog off the lead, he wanted to be somewhere else etc, etc. but the girls and I had a fabulous half hour before he decided we'd been there long enough. It's difficult for the girls, I really do feel for them. They weren't allowed to get wet. They weren't allowed to shout. They weren't allowed blah, blah, blah. I love taking them to the seaside. I take a towel and they can get as wet as they like. I remember last year standing on the edge of the water and a huge wave (or Sea Horse as we call them) came in and I went down. Everything I had on was soaked and my jumper was down by my knees but it was funny and they laughed and I had a wet behind all the way home, but that's what happens when you're at the seaside. He doesn't like them getting wet. It'll make the car seats wet. It'll make the car smell. The sand will have to be vacuumed off them before they're allowed in the car. Things like that. Taking them to the seaside with hubby is like taking a child to see Santa's Grotto only to not let them see Santa. They even asked me (in hushed voices) if they could have a "mummy day" and we could come back together so that they could get wet. Why is this illness so bloody horrible? For half an hour it was bliss, and then we went back into daddy land. Where he gets what he wants, when he wants.

Ask me where the car is now. He's away to his friend's house. Again. Whilst we're together I struggle with trying to keep the waters calm. I wish for a little peace from the demands (and he is demanding - clean the bathroom with a toothbrush etc) and I resent how I feel like a hollow replica of the person I used to be, yet when he's not here, I miss him, and wonder what he's doing and if he's alright and then I feel lost as if I'm a rudderless boat because he's not here to tell me what to do, when to do it and how.

Not to mention littlie's hair is still falling out. Dear God. How much is going to fall out before it stops? It's like Dementia is sticking it's fingers up at me and saying "you don't have enough to worry about... here's a little bit more for you". They say that God only gives you what you can handle. Fair does, but a little holiday from what I can handle would really be appreciated. You get a holiday from work every now and again - shame illnesses doesn't work the same way.