If you have been reading my blog you will know that at the moment I am a patient at the mother and baby unit for post natal depression. I am currently spending four nights a week on leave, meaning I go home and then return to the hospital for three nights and days of therapy and rest.

The reason being that the reality of my life as a mum of three needs to be addressed while I recover. Today was my first day back at the reins. On the positive side I survived, my kids survived and no one got shouted at (apart from me obviously because my four year old is hitting adolescence hard!). On the not so positive side, oh my god parenting is hard! It is constant, and it is draining.

Today I have; explained what satellites do to my four year old (hoping I was right, often a problem when it comes to science) while washing up, hanging laundry and making packed lunches for three.
Pushed a buggy with buggy board up a very steep hill, twice (drop off and pick up). Incase you’re wondering buggy boards hurt like hell when you accidentally kick them whilst walking, and yes my back hurts from that stoop.
Held and helped a constipated seven month old (the help involved was anus related and you don’t want to know!)
Bribed my three year old with biscuits to get him to play with his ‘friend’.
Enjoyed all twenty drawings brought home from school, especially the ten minute explanation that went with each one.
Force fed prunes to aforementioned baby (while my dinner went cold and congealed)
Watched Waybaloo (possibly the most torturous event of the day).

All of this plus three trips out for school pick ups, two visitors, a Tesco delivery, and a phone call to book my eldest’s birthday party. Now I know this is all typical mothering type stuff. When your depressed it’s like being asked to perform a song and dance routine from a popular musical,whilst minding three gorillas.

I wonder will I ever do all this without feeling like hiding in the garden shed while the kids go feral. Perhaps this is just the norm for me for the next few years. It’s awful I know to admit all this, to not be gooey with delight at the joys of motherhood. I love my children, its just sometimes the responsibility is overwhelming. Here’s hoping that as I recover, and my depression and anxiety lifts this all gets a little more doable. Because one things for sure, I’m going to be doing it.