Today was hard. It started off as good as every other day (she's so sweet in the mornings) but it was sooooo hot and DD was hot and was cross and needed attention all day and I think I have laryngitis and have lost my voice. Tonight she started looking sleepy. I fed her and got her into bed. Then she shit herself. I got poo on my arm and I cried. I was absolutely knackered by the time bedtime came and I was hoping to sneak out for a drink with my friend. DH arrives home and says he's tired and stressed and explains his day and, yes, it was worse than mine. He goes to the pub with my blessing - even though I've spoken to precisely three people today, I wanted to be on my own and read my book, 'Cows' by Dawn O'Porter if anyone is interested. It's really fucking good.
My AIBU is to wonder how the hell does anyone do this on their own, with no break, even at the weekends and why do we not respect them more?
To all the single Mums, I am I awe....