I hadn't realised how overtired and burnt out I had become until yesterday I just crashed. Not, as in, literally - but emotionally. I think I had come to a point where by yesterday afternoon I just did not want to deal with ANYBODY any more.

I wanted to lay down and sleep, grumpy, tired and worn out.

And it is not a surprise, really. It has been a very full-on two weeks. I've done a lot, and stopped very little. But I guess I had anticipated that I would get a bit more of a warning to how tired I've become, so I would know to cut back and cut myself slack.

But no. Instead, I was semi-snappy with The Man in the morning, got upset over a child who stuck their hands in their full nappy (and showed the stuff to me, "Look, mama!") and then by the evening, I was done. DONE.


It takes a lot of time to sort things out and move in. Phone calls upon phone calls of contact changes, transferring of all sorts of paperwork and services (and that's  even without the drama with the Southland District Health Board that I spent energy on to get ourselves a GP), and just plain moving stuff. Coffee cups, vacuum cleaners, kitchen towels - it's all little mundane stuff but dealing with it TAKES TIME, and time I haven't got a lot of at the moment.

It has been my priority to make it as smooth as possible for my kids, so I have invested a lot of energy in keeping their routines familiar. We go to parks, we ride bikes, we jump at Tumbletimes, we play in the back yard, we have now started preschool. It's time I spend, which means whenever I am not with them actively, hands-on, I either sort out stuff or sleep.

And then yesterday, CRRRRASSSSSHHH! My body said, nop, not doing this stuff any more. Done. Go find another idiot to work such hours.

Which means that today, I am... still doing stuff, but less of it. A bit gentler. Kinder to myself. (One of those things I will be doing, by the way, will be finding a person in Christchurch willing to be our countersignatory by mail because, turns out, now that I want to renew The Kid's British passport, there is not a single person in Invercargill who can countersign and... Geesh. I love paperwork. I love paperwork. I love paperwork.)

And I think it's about time I were a bit kinder to myself.

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