Mummy is really rather tired

I dislike the term ‘burn-out’. Not sure why. Maybe it’s some deep, psychological reaction to a hatred of weakness, or something to do with the British stiff upper lip. Probably it’s because it seems a little, well, dramatic.

So, I’m not burnt out. I am, after all, a healthy, comfortably-off, married mother of only two children, who doesn’t work and is living in a safe, affluent and beautiful part of the world.

But, I have to say, I am quite tired.

This morning the children were awake before 5am. If it were a one-off it might be okay, but recently, it’s more of a surprise if they sleep until 6. My husband gets up with them quite frequently, but I relieve him around 5:30 so that he can get some sleep before work.

They’re currently both napping, so I suppose I should be too, but instead I’m writing this post and having a DIY foot soak in an attempt to make my awful feet look less awful without having to spend $40 for a pedicure that I don’t have time for…

I have loads of blog posts I would like to write but finding the time and energy is difficult, so I just have the buzzing round my head instead, distracting me from my mundane but necessary daily chores. So it may be a decision I’ll regret later, but for now I’m making the most of the quiet. (Except for my landlord’s daughter practising the piano upstairs.)

Being a mum is hard on the body…

Pregnancy, obviously, doesn’t do your body much good but even after those nine months of discomfort are over, your body doesn’t really get to recover. You may no longer have to carry the baby round everywhere you go inside you, but you still have to pick it up, carry it round, jiggle it and rock it. I still end up carrying my daughter a couple of times a day and she’s almost three. I had back ache pretty much throughout my second pregnancy and ten months later I still have a seriously aching back by the end of the day.

… It’s also not great for the skin…

Everyone knows that to have great skin you need to sleep lots, keep hydrated and cut down on the caffeine. Since becoming a mother I sleep a lot less, I drink less because I’m no longer sitting at a desk with a bottle of water right in front of me all day and my caffeine intake has rocketed, thanks to my night owl and early bird children. I’ve never had a facial, but it sounds like a great idea.

… And my brain is mush.

I don’t want to blow my own trumpet, but I used to be fairly intelligent. My memory was amazing. I knew stuff and was capable of having an interesting conversation about a variety of topics.

Not so anymore. I don’t follow the news because anything sad makes me disproportionately upset or convinced that Doomsday is upon us. This means that making conversation that’s not about how many poos my son did today is rather taxing. I have a severe case of mum brain and often forget what I was talking about in the middle of a sentence. I can go into a room three times to fetch something and still forget it.

So there we are. I ache. I’m incapable of coherent thought. I look about 20 years older than I really am (fourteen, actually, according to my phone’s age recognition software). I’m tired.

My children may light up my life. I may feel like my heart is going to burst with how much I love them. They may make me laugh. I may know that I am incredibly lucky.

But, but… if they would just sleep a little bit more it would be fab. Or, failing that, if someone could book me in for a massage, facial, pedicure and twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, I would be forever grateful.