Today completes two weeks of looking after my grandmother.
Just two weeks, and already I’m tired. I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. Half the time I feel like I’m hovering, and the other half I feel like I’m negligent.
Diapers and piss and pills and dinners and laundry and lunches and visits from all sorts of concerned, unhelpful therapists and nurses. Listening to the baby monitor while she sleeps and jumping up every time she moves and waiting while she pees and helping her from room to room and keeping her company while she’s awake and always having to shout to be heard. This is harder than I thought it would be.
But it’s okay. I can do it for a while.