The past week has been a bit of a downer for me.

For starters, the boys’ coughs got better and then THEY GOT WORSE. I was all HURRAH! when Aidan started hacking again, and then Zac’s nose started dripping. That limp and deflated balloon sobbing in the corner? Yeah, that’s me.

They now sound like a truckload of phlegm is stuck in their chests and we have taken to sucking out the gross stuff from Zac’s nose three times a day because it’s affecting his breathing. He, of course, HATES it and screams bloody murder. Don’t quite blame him, though.

(Tangent topic, you got to have a NoseFrida Snot Sucker in your arsenal if you don’t already. This thing is GENIUS at removing disgusting mucus and snot from the littles’ noses.)

Anyway, so yes, sick babies equates shitty sleep.

The amount of work at, well, work has been piling up for me as well. I am literally flying by the seat of my pants these days. I do what I need to complete in a day just to meet my deadlines and then, crap, it’s 6pm and I have to drop everything to pick up my boys. I rush out of the door, grab Child #1 from daycare, grab Child #2 from GrandMotherCare (GEDDIT!!) and then drive like a possessed woman home.

Once home, I feed the kids, feed myself, break up fights and then haul them both into baths. I scrub one, scrub the other and then dry them both. Once they are moisturised and massaged like little Kobe cows, I stuff them into their jammies (one is usually kicking and screaming and twisting away like the scary thingamajig on The Poltergeist), turn on the AC and flop onto bed with a huge sigh of relief.

BUT WAIT. It’s not over.

I read books, bounce babies and dish out hugs before the lights go down and I attempt to put Child #2 to bed before 8pm. After what feels like an eternity, he goes down and Child #1 and I proceed to the other room while we sing, play puzzles and make believe that we are being chased by sharks. Finally, he stops chatting to drift off into sleepy land at about 915pm.

By which time, I am ready to call it a day too.

So, last week.

I sat down in the bathroom one evening in exhaustion. I felt so overwhelmingly bogged down by the daily routine. While I knew that it was not forever, I simply lacked the energy to carpe, as they say, the freaking diem. Day in day out, it was all the same, and in the process of juggling all these hats, I was losing a piece of myself. When I am not working, I am trying to be the best mum to my kids. When the kids are asleep, I am busy with the home front.

How do I do this?

I suppose the answer is simple, I don’t have to be the perfect anybody. In my drive and desire to ensure that everyone is happy, I forget that I have to be happy too. There are many things to be thankful for, certainly, but at the same time, I came to the realisation that I have to be selfish sometimes. If saying “no” at work, to my mother, to my in-laws, to my kids, to my husband means I get a sanity break, I will do it.

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