The struggle

‘Uh, Monday tomorrow’ I muttered to my 2 year old as I put his pjs on ready for bed. “Me wear me green jammies mummy” he said as he stood up pushing his little head through the hole of his favourite pjs. Luckily it was his birthday soon as family would likely give him money in his cards for me to submit into his bank but instead I’d buy him some new pjs as they were all getting too small, the bottoms were riding up near his calf’s. I cuddled into him as he threw his little arms around my neck, breathing in the smell of his hair as I tried to distract myself from the money worries. Then I got a prang of mum guilt as I realised I should have really got him in the bath tonight before bed. It has been a few days, he doesn’t smell bad yet but he will be at his fathers mums tomorrow and she will surely tell me he needs a bath! ‘Come on baby, let’s read a story and go to bed’ i sighed. I sent him to choose a book from the hallway bookshelf and went into the living room to pull out the sofa bed. I dimmed the lights, turned off the telly and told little man to climb into the bed whilst I went and locked up our little flat. We read ‘dear zoo’, 3 times as he snuggled up to his ‘sheepy’. I stroked his hair as he fell asleep. I crept up slowly and slipped into an oversized old band T-shirt and a comfy pair of floral pj bottoms. I sat back down on the double sofa bed, next to little man who was sweetly snoring away. I grabbed my laptop and dragged it onto my lap, sighed and leant back against my pillow, head back, looking around the little room, I was feeling tired and the look of the place made me feel worse. It was looking a mess, storage boxes stacked in the corner full of our clothes. Toys pushed into a pile in front of the telly to make space for the sofa bed being pulled out. The little kitchen could be seen through the tiny hallway, plates dirty on the side, I was too tired to clean up after battling little man to eat his dinner so, I would clean up in the morning. I hadn’t slept well recently, I just lay awake worrying about trying to keep our head above water. So I turned on my laptop and began trying to write, I had a 5000 word essay to submit by next week and I was only half way there, I just couldn’t concentrate at the moment. English literature used to be my passion, I could read for hours but with juggling little man, university and a job, my only time to read and complete assignments was at night and I just wasn’t in the right headspace recently. I stayed up until the early hours, managing to write another 1000 words on my Geoffrey Chaucer essay. I took a deep breathe, closed my eyes and slid the laptop to the floor next to the bed, I sighed and reflected that two years ago, I’d of thrown myself into this essay, loving every minute of challenging myself. I closed my eyes and slid under the duvet, absolutely exhausted, it didn’t take long to fall asleep. “Mummy mummy” I woke up quickly, “what’s up baby” I replied, “morning time?!” He asked, I reached over and grabbed my phone from the floor, it had been 50 minutes since I’d fallen asleep, “no, it’s not morning time, let’s go back to sleep” I pulled the duvet up over us, he snuggled up to me and I could quickly hear his breathing change confirming that he was asleep again. That was it for me, I was awake, so I scrolled through social media on my phone, not sure what time it was when I did eventually fall back to sleep, phone still in hand. It was an early start as usual, 6am he was up asking for breakfast. The sun peeking through the gap in my mismatch curtains. I flicked the telly onto channel 5, children’s tv,whilst little man sat watching one of those monotonous programs, I dragged myself into a very quick shower, leaving the door open so I can hear little man. I then got myself dressed in black leggings and a comfortable oversized black T-shirt. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and brushed out my long dark hair, letting it dry on my shoulders. I turned to the side and caught a peek at my belly rolls from the side profile so I breathed in and turned away, leaving the bathroom and returning to little man, still enticed in his program. I made us toast for breakfast, “here you go” as I handed him his, “mmm Hamm” he said trying to say Jam. I spoke to him about his routine for the day, telling him he was going to see Nanna and would be having dinner there and I would pick him up before bed as I had work. “Oh, mummy not work” he put out his bottom lip and again I felt the pang of mum guilt, “I’m home all day tomorrow” I promised him.