I have limits? WHAT?!

So yesterday lovely boyfriend was involved in ANOTHER car accident.  This time in his dad’s car.  I don’t want him to leave the house anymore! Personally I think that two crashes is enough to last a lifetime, let alone a week.  He says that this person drove into them with much less force than the woman earlier in the week and that he doesn’t think that his whiplash is much worse.  He still won’t take any time off work to recover.

The reason that he was out with his dad yesterday was that a family friend has donated us some sofas.  We will have a full compliment of seating in our living room completely free from dog chew holes ( they are all leather so this may last for some time, seriously fingers crossed, I am tired of picking up millions of bits of sofa stuffing!) I managed to move one of them in and relocate the old one to the garage with the help of a friend, but the other sofa, even though it is missing quite a bit of its innards, weighs about a million tonnes.  Ok, so maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but it may as well do.

I am trying to run interference so that lovely boyfriend does not try to lift the heaviest sofa in the world.  The ambulance man said that he shouldn’t be carrying full pans of stuff in the kitchen at work, so this is definitely too heavy.  He just won’t stop though.  And his motivation is to please me!  Yes, I do want a lovely chomp free seating area, but I want lovely boyfriend in one piece much, much more.

I get it. I have always struggled with understanding my limits.  At 5″4 and nine stone I think that I am a giant who can do anything.  Noting is too heavy or cumbersome.  I can take over the world.  I found being pregnant very difficult with the whole, not doing things.  I went to buy dog food towards the end of my pregnancy and a poor lad at the shop chased me yelling “put that down!”  I thought he was trying to accuse me of stealing.  It turns out that carrying giant sacks of dog food is not cool when you are three weeks away from your due date.  He was a bit precious about things though, as he took the dog food, I picked up a tin of paint and I got a lecture about how I had better not be doing any painting.

I was obsessed with rearranging the house.  Lovely boyfriend would come home from work and look frustrated that everything had moved.  Or run at me whilst I was balancing on the arm of a sofa ( yes it was not the most stable surface but most of the stuffing had already been eaten out of it so it was quite flat) to reach an invisible cobweb ( I could see it when I was on the floor, maybe it was a shadow but I had to find out) I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just let me get on with the things that my crazy nesting urge required. But I relented and he would move the wardrobe around the bedroom AGAIN on his days off, I had to learn to be patient.

And now I understand.  It turns out that we are exactly the same as each other.  We both push ourselves too hard.  I once tried to keep on going to work when I had pneumonia and ended up collapsing all sweaty and drowning from the inside, it was then that I conceded to go to the doctors.

We are each others yard stick now.  If the other one says that you are really too ill (and hides your keys) then maybe a duvet day is in order.  And things are different since the mega chinned dribble face has arrived.  Coming from someone who lost a parent I can confirm that kids really do like having them around.  So we have to not work ourselves into the floor ( and then hospital bed) we have to take care of ourselves so that we can run around after footballs, do handstands ( we used to get our dad to do cartwheels, and all of the change would fall out of his pockets, I still can’t do a cartwheel, but I can spot a pound coin in a field from quite a distance) and climb into trees.

Lovely boyfriend will wake up soon.  All of my boys are still asleep upstairs ( obviously the fluffy faces and baby have all had breakfast and returned to the land of nod) they are  gorgeous.  Sometimes I stand and watch lovely boyfriend and his mini me sleeping, making the same sleep faces and dribbling.  I don’t think I will ever get tired of that.  Therefore I think I might have to go and hide some keys.


  1. Yet another amusing and oh so readable post but with a serious underlying message. I can so identify with trying to do everything myself before conceding defeat and accepting, note that’s accepting not asking for, help. Hope lovely boyfriend looks after himself as well as you and the little ones. 😉


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