Son#2 is pooped - evident in his evil behaviour and responses at the moment, and I have to admit that I'm quite surprised that he doesn't foam at the mouth and roll his eyes when he speaks.
God knows I love him to bits and will fight for him and his good character all my life, but his attitude is shocking.
I don't know what bugs the little man, except of course for the stomach bug he still has.
Sigh.
Meanwhile, Son#3 isn't much better off either - his flu still lingers with swollen eardrums and glands, the daily fever occurrence.
I think we need sun and heat.
I've been having lots of meetings at work, lots of fights with students who plagiarise anything and everything they can get - a kind of 'finders keepers'-attitude.
And I find - luckily - that my stress levels have definitely gone down.
I'm far away from the sweaty, heart palpitated mess that I was last year.
I'm turning into a bit of a pitbull, and it actually feels good.
Who would have thought??
My doormat-personality only brought me strife, and if I can end up somewhere between a doormat and a full-on pitbull, I'll be chuffed as can be.
Now coffee and breakfast.
Tomorrow I'm helping out in the bar of Son#1's rugby clubhouse, but I'm already a wee worried about operating the cash register and the coffee machine which is apparently very complicated.
.
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