So you see

there was this woman, who was kinda crazy, and pregnant, and stressed off her nut, eating badly, sleeping worse, crying all the time and so on and so forth.
then the youngest kid got sick and so did she, but thankfully it didn’t last long.
but the side-effects of the new drugs she was taking for her crazy did.
making her feel rolling waves of nauseousness and a heightened feeling of tension and anxiety.
which is great for someone already feeling on the edge, to feel more tense.
but she kept going.
because, you know, three kids, a husband, a job, multiple deadlines, an impressive tendency to martyrdom and a healthy obsessive compulsive demeanor do that.
and then, with a drug dosage variation things improve on that front, very very slightly.
but you have numerous colleagues off work.
and then your youngest kid decides to projectile vomit.
in the car.
about two blocks from home.
at 7.45 at night.
and continues to do so – or try to do so, with just the dry-wretching wracking his poor little frame until 1am.
then at 1.30 he wants a drink.
and keeps it down.
then he wants a slice of toast.
with vegemite.
at 4.30am.
and keeps that down.
and while you’re really pleased, and that it means you don’t need to go to the hospital, it still takes about another 12 hours for him to do a wee.
and you think maybe you should have taken him to the hospital.
and you have to work from home.
with three children.
and a mother.
and it is the big deadline day for the major project you work on.
and you’ve had 3.5 hours of broken pieced-together sleep.
and you just kinda feel really really really fragile.
and you end up sitting here, typing something to show everyone you still care, eating boysenberries out of a can.