Food, glorious food. After 6 days at home, I have to confess that if you tell me you are hungry, I might respond in a seemingly stark over reaction but frankly this uttered phrased has driven me to the edge. It is spoken at least every hour. On the hour. No matter where I am. The toilet, shower, kitchen, working, hanging the washing, driving – nowhere is sacred for this phrase, this demand, this constant need. “ Mum I just have something I want to tell you.” “I’m hungry”. It has been a long beginning to the school holidays. The frantic panic to write THE LIST (my chores for the holidays that has become ritualistic and I can’t settle until it is done) to settling into a routine that doesn’t disrupt my PTSD husband’s much needed routine, but also doesn’t see me take on too much or I might as well not be on break. The first couple of days felt like a dance, not wanting to go too hard too fast for fear that my child will think every day off is a crazy adventure...
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