Some days, being a parent is frigging hard work. Seriously frigging hard work.
Like oh my god, when are holidays and why isn’t it Friday yet? hard work. Except you are still a parent on Fridays. And on holidays. Just with less time constraints. On holidays at least. Friday we still need to be out of the house by 7am.
As you all know, most of the time I manage to get through my day and think how insanely lucky I am. I love her to the moon and back. I always will.
But tonight was frigging hard work. And the house is bereft of wine.
I’ll spare you the details because well, because I’m too bloody tired to type. And I’m going to bed because I feel like a total failure.
Suffice to say, even the dogs were unimpressed. But happy for the extra cuddles.