OK this is my second attempt. I just spent an hour writing this post- my longest ever- only to wipe the bloody thing by mistake. It will now be know as "the lost post" or "the forgotten masterpiece".
What do you do when you wipe such a massive body of writing? Try to re-write it and be as true to the original as possible? Just leave it and start again tomorrow with something different? Write a short paragraph without mentioning tthe wiped post? I'm going to take the "over-exaggerate the length, splendour, and importance of the wiped post, talk about how great it was, then write a brief overview of the main points" approach.
The title and the labels stayed intact, it was the main body that disappeared. So I'll start again and see how we get on. Now-
Major agony this morning. It took me 5 minutes to get my socks on. 5 minutes is a long time when it's spent putting a sock on a foot and then another sock on another foot. It made me feel quite, quite useless. I then went downstairs and tried to put two shoes on. George, my 11yr old son, saw that I could barely reach my foot and to my embarrassment and dismay, came over to me, put them both on my feet and tied my laces. I nearly cried. Bless that boy. He shouldn't be helping his father get dressed at 11 years old. And I'm not an elderly person, this shouldn't be happening! Contrary to the beliefs of younger people, 31 ISN'T OLD.
It makes me feel so horrible and useless and embarrassed with myself. And it is seriously getting worse. The missis is getting frustrated that I can't help with the baby in the mornings. That makes me depressed and angry. Poor me, so misunderstood. (Sarcasm). Tensions are high. The constant pain and/or stiffness makes me behave like an arsehole. My partner is nowhere near perfect, but niether am I, and I'm oversensitive and uncooperative when I'm in pain. I'm best left alone. But that can't really happen from early to mid/late morning every single day.
The missis went out at 9am, and fortunately the massive amount of pain killers began to do their job soon after, and by 1030ish I was ready to take the kids out. Up just before 8am after the usual stiff painful night, then pretty much 3 whole hours later I'm ready for the day. Pathetic. When we got to the beach we had a lovely afternoon. Harry (my 16 month old) is just an angel. We walked for miles (well a long way) and smiled a lot. We found crabs, chatted to people, watched dogs running about, ran in the mud and splashed in the sea.
There was one moment though, wear I actually pretty much started crying. It's shameful. I think that the stiffness, the lack of sleep and the "causes drowsiness" medication I'm on make me easily frustrated and quick to anger. Especially when in a situation, for instance, where I'm bending over, seriously straining my back, with a screaming baby in one ear and a grumpy 11yr old moaning in the other. I just snap. I screamed at George and just started to sob and mumble, trying to make Harry comfortable and happy. After about 10 minutes all was back to normal but it was so horrid, I feel so guilty, full of "bad parent" feelings and all sorts of other conflicting emotions.
Before and after this moment the day was fantastic and we all had such a wonderful time, it was really special. It is so amazing watching my children bond with each other, and I'm so proud of them both. I don't want to be a burden on them, or anyone.
I really shouldn't behave like this about it all. There are millions of people all over the world who are worse off than me, and half of them don't complain like I do. This blog must make me look pretty selfish, uncooperative, depressed, pessimistic and possibly a bit neurotic. I am. I always get my own way, and when i don't, I sulk like a child and behave like a fricking arsehole.
So with that in mind, you go get me some chocolate to put in my fat belly or I swear I'll throw a full blown tantrum.
I've been able to sit up and re-write this post because the stiffness starts early evening now and pushes through the night, ensuring I won't sleep like a regular human person. Hence the constant exhaustion and grumpiness. In fact, If i hadn't already mention my age, it wouldn't be difficult to put me with the likes of Victor Meldew, or although not quite an old man, Doc Martin.
A poor and much shorter re-write I'm afraid. Missing some key points from the original. But adequate enough to tell a story in one way or another, for better or worse. I hope someone out their is able to relate to my tales. And if so, it's worth wearing my heart on my sleeve.
Let's see what tomorrow brings.
