Being an invalid for the last five weeks has almost rendered me invalid. Like an out of date ticket or an expired warranty, I have achieved virtually nothing, not even a poem.
Should I be writing about achieving nothing? Well, I feel that I should explain my prolonged silence on Facebook, Twitter and here, on my blog, but feeling guilty about it is an emotion I am trying, feebly, to knock on the head.
I think we all should.
Life’s busy isn’t it? We forget sometimes how to take care of ourselves when our frantic day to day lifestyles demand every ounce of our energy. We work hard, worry hard, put all our eggs in one basket, try to do one million and one things at once and play hard (if we can!). Any other rock and roll mammas and dadas like me out there? Well, our work never seems to be done – kids (ah but we love ’em) sap every last gram of goodness from our brains and bodies and the inevitable wake up call is the word INVALID.
Five weeks of invalidity is crap. I’ve lived off soup and yoghurt, tried every shelf remedy under the sun, done more than my fair share of antibiotics, suffocated on my own plugs of green sputum, lost 5lbs, coughed my vocal cords to shreds and watched night TV repeatedly (poor old Michael Hutchence and bless those wildlife sanctuary vets) because I dreaded sleeping for split seconds at a time.
Sometimes people, it is good to do nothing, guilt free; just look after yourselves. Promise me?
Writing this post proves that I am getting back to my old self again. Yep, its therapeutic ain’t it? I might even listen to a bit of music… then again, here come the kids…