I'm tired. Scratchy eyes, sniffly nose tired. Itchy face tired. Sad tired. It's almost as if I'm waiting for something to explode or implode or just crack. It's that feeling where I know I have to write the words out or it will cycle and cycle and I'll crack.
It's the end of the holidays, Monkey's been learning to adapt to being the child of a working mum who can't drop everything and be there for him. He's been acting out. Being brattier than he has any cause to be. It's been hard. Very hard when it's me... just me... bearing all the anger and frustrations of a five year old.
It's the end of a productive week at the Community House but one that has had an unfinished feel to it. I've been working odd hours - a few down at the House then off to a meeting or a play date or the shops. Then home to my home and an hour of emails or internet research or plain old fashioned mulling... Next week things will settle down again and I can get into a rhythm.
It's the end of a fun week with friends and special people.
It's the end of the week and I don't have to be strong and brave now. I can curl up in bed and read a book until I fall asleep and I know that when I wake up tomorrow it'll be all be ok again and I'll find the strength to do one more week.