Petering out

The road to hell, and to falling flat out on your face, seems to be paved with good intentions.
Yesterday started out so well.
So well.
By late morning, my fatigue kicked in, Son#3 started crying continuously, Son#1 shadowed me constantly, and Son#2 tore into the kitchen and then out again, shouting epithets like a banshee.
I kind of lost it.
Idiot that I am, I took the kids in search of a special memory card for the portable gameboy-thing. 
Not one of my most glorious moments - especially when we are all tired / hungry /  in need of a public restroom.

The night was tough - I woke at 2 a.m. then stayed awake until 5 a.m., and then Son#2 cancelled my party at 5h45.
No-one slept again after that, and believe you me, I tried hard.

I sent a text message to the husband to hurry on home, please.
I'm boiling eggs.
I have coffee.
I'm still breathing.
And the husband will be looking after the kids for the rest of the day (and hopefully he won't read this before he decides to return home).


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