I am rubbish. Totally rubbish when I am down on sleep. 3 nights now. My poor angel. Screaming the house down. But what do you do? I can’t take the pain for him, but I can hold him, stroke his head, whisper calming words. Most of the night. As he is delirious. And I can’t sleep. Worried. Half sleep. Listening.

And I am rubbish. My ability to hold my frustration and temper in check lost.

A tumeric latte. A magazine. 2 hours of solitude. The promise of an early night… and peace reigns again.