Too much on my (spinning) plate

As you may have noticed from my lack of blog activity I've been a little busy of late.

What with the school holidays and having to keep three kids entertained  from killing each other it's been a little hectic.

Add in a new home-based part-time job (with three kids in tow), the shopping (with three kids in tow), the cooking, cleaning, bill paying (with three kids in tow), sorting out the other house that our recently moved out tenant trashed, and trying to book the odd appointment for myself so that I don't look like Chewbacca when I go away this weekend and you might just say my sanity has been hanging by a very thin thread.

My days have seen me running from laptop to dishwasher to Tesco's muttering 'I don't know how she does it, I don't know how she does it' repeatedly with a crazed look in my eye and an eyebrow that twitches continuously.

My nights are full of dreams of me running around a Big Top spinning so may plates that when they come crashing down I am buried beneath a mountain of sparkling bone china thinking - 'now why are my plates never that clean?'

So when my husband announced yesterday that he had a bad case of flu \ stomach bug \ I-don't-want-to-go-to-work-itus and spent the day in bed whilst asking me if I could 'pop to the chemist' for him - forgive me if I didn't show due sympathy.

I think all of my compassionate tendencies may have nipped off down the circus with Chewbacca.