Imitation of life

I'm an ungrateful bastard. Having the boy home for Christmas was what we dreamt of. But having got it, all I can do is count the hours down as each day passes.

Just too tired to enjoy it. Too tired to enjoy much. A struggle to manage his secretions. A struggle to stop him wearing himself out to the detriment of his lungs. A struggle to stop me infecting him. Keep the place tidy. Keep the place clean. Keep food in the house. Keep my temper. Don't sigh. Don't bang things. Don't say you're tired. Too much duty, not enough enjoyment. No doubt there are those who would say that it's a state of mind thing. Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just not a very good parent. Doubly so when I'm tired. Having a sick child can't make up for that.