Okay. I'm a coper. As in, I cope when things are crazy. If your house is burning down, I'm the person you want there to bring out the hoses. I'm the one who can help when you've had a puncture on the highway and discovered you don't have a spare. I'm the one who phones the police and the insurance company when your house has been burgled. I can stop a dogfight, I can strap a broken limb and I make a mean cup of tea when it's needed.
So why am I not coping right now? My life is fairly simple. I look after my son. I look after my husband. I look after myself. I occasionally clean my house and most nights I manage to cook dinner. I even remember to feed my rabbits sometimes. But throw one extra thing (let's say, an exam, for example) into the mix and my house of cards collapses. Spectacularly.
I have spent the last 38 hours in pajamas, my rabbits are eating their cardboard house, the sink is full of dishes and my emergency frozen meals are history. When Ezra threw up on me this morning (as he does every morning) I actually cried. Like someone had killed my dog. I cleaned him up, put him down for his morning nap, made myself a strong cup of coffee and contemplated phoning the post-natal depression hotline. I phoned my husband instead.
Me: Love, I think I need to postpone my exam until the end of the year. (Actually, what I said sounded more like lub, infrink ineed posepone mixam til enend off rinyeeeeaaar waaaaaahhhh sniff sniff waaaaaahhhhh)
Long-suffering Husband: Okay love, don't cry.
Me: Caan't deal wishes anymooooorree waaaaaaaahhhh
LSH: No really love, it's okay, just please stop crying.
Me: Waaaaaaaaaahhhh Ezra, sniff sniff, puke, sniff my pajamas, sniff sniff, waaaaaaahhh
LSH: Love, phone UNISA and see if you can postpone. Then get in the shower, have something to eat and put on real clothes. You'll probably feel better.
Me: Sniif sniff, franks lub, slorry to bover you at worlk, sniff.
LSH: That's okay angel. Cheer up okay?
I think I need to get some help.