Extreme tiredness

Extreme tiredness comes in all shapes and sizes. For me it either comes in the shape of one massive grumpy lump or in the shape of a small, helpless child who just needs wrapping up in cotton wool.

Today was the turn of the child.

Welcoming hubs back from his golf game like a lethargic sloth stuck to the sofa (he's such a lucky man!), I barely had the energy to get excited about his four par threes let alone console him on his double bogey on the 17th! (Seriously, can anyone ever summon up that much enthusiasm!?)

Just then, hubs spotted one of the 'friendly neighbourhood cats' in our back garden. Friendly and neighbourly they are not! Why, oh why do cats insist on using OTHER PEOPLE'S gardens as their personal toilets? If I wanted pooh all over the my lawn I'd buy myself a dog and be done with it.

So, knowing my aversion to having cats ablute outside my back door hubs tried to scare the cat away. Only this one was having none of it. So I bounded (as fast as my exhausted body would carry me) to the back door to fling it open and scare the little *grits her teeth* darling away. This didn't work so I dashed out into the garden to make sure it didn't come back only to skid (cartoon style: picture the arms and legs flailing like the sails of a windmill, artistically, in opposite directions), slip and land *splat* right on my cushioned behind.

Hubs immediately came straight to my rescue, hauling me up as if I weighed around the same as a feather (for this I love him endlessly!), and bundling me into his arms as I allowed the hot, stinging tears of a toddler escape me into his awaiting shoulder.

How is it that I'm so easily reduced to this blithering mess? All because of a little scrapey bump bump.

My pride was hurt more than my bottom (although I think I feel a couple of attractive bruises forming) and I do have a little 'ouch' on my finger.

When extreme tiredness attacks...

A slightly bruised and embarrassed Potential Mummy B