Stretched thin by the endlessly repetitive chores of homemaking.
Exhausted by the requests, frustrated by the demands, blinded by the broken sleep.
I put on a load of washing. I fill/empty/fill/empty the dishwasher. I vaccuum. I mop. I fold and put away the washing. I clean, I tidy, I wipe, I polish.
I cart children here, I take them there, I ferry nearly everywhere.
I miss my husband when he's away. I miss the adult company. But mostly I just miss him.
Some days I pray for it to be the children's bedtime so I can have some peace. Then they go to sleep and I am lonely.
I tweet. I Facebook. I blog. I reach out. I am supported.
I am sometimes asked how I find the time to blog, or to be on Facebook, or to tweet. I don't find the time, the time finds me.
I am not less of a mother because I am active on the interwebs.
I am visible here. I exist. I am a person who can think and write, not just change nappies and prepare food. I am not Mum, I am just Kate.