I often muddle through my days on auto-pilot. Get up, shower, dress, toast for the kids, go to work, write a report/fix a problem, go home, kids to bed, eat, blog, sleep.
I'm depressing myself now. My days aren't that bad, they just feel like that when I'm busy, stressed out and tired.
I feel like I'm in a tunnel with a small light at the end. The light symbolises the children getting old enough to not be so demanding, it's getting brighter but is still a way off yet.
I'm not wishing their childhood away, they're too much fun for me to want that. I just don't want to wake up to dirty nappies, have dinner shredded on the floor or have to take two buggies out everytime we leave the house together.
The good times with the little ones: reading stories, playing in the park, trying new foods, parties, family get togethers, quiet chats at the end of the day, these are all great and I love the children more than I can express.
But they're not always little angels: fighting each other, learning to lie, refusing to go to bed or take a bath, being rude and stroppy.
By the time the kids are sorted and the more pressing household chores are done, it's time for sleep. My wife and I seem to have so little time for each other that sometimes I feel isolated and lonely. I'm not talking about sex here but the little things like watching TV snuggled together on the sofa or a kind word when you look stressed out. It's not her fault, or mine, just the usual pressures of life that all parents have.
When the kids are a little older things'll be just that bit easier for us. The children will bring fresh trials for us, I'm sure, but at least we won't be wiping their arses and picking their food off the floor. Not until they discover alcohol anyway.
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