Roasted Mediterranean veg and potatoes dauphinoise

I may have mentioned it already, but I think I may be approaching burnout.

Mum had another bad headache today, and I found myself struggling not to snap and/or roll my eyes every time mum told me, as if it was something new, that her head hurt. I’m also finding little interest in anything much, and am feeling myself wanting to cry at random intervals, which is rare for me as someone brought up in the “what are you crying about? Well, don’t” style of child-rearing.

I know I should ask for help, but I honestly don’t know what to ask for help with. I keep thinking of the physio at the hospital, who insisted that I was choosing to care for mum: I didn’t see then, and don’t see now, where choice comes into it. Even if I wanted to, and was able to, walk away, I have nowhere else to go.

As mum wasn’t able to go to church today, one of her friends popped in to see her instead. While mum was putting on her shoes to go out with her for some fresh air, the friend mentioned to me that someone mum knew at her old church lives in the next road and would like to visit us. This friend is, apparently, closer to my age than mum’s .

Seeking to seal the deal, and knowing too well my opinion of people vis à vis animals, friend added “oh, and she’s got a dog”. Of course I promptly agreed to share my number.

It was only after friend left that I was hit with the sudden realisation that I had just had a play-date arranged for me. But a dog will be involved, so I don’t mind too much.

Dinner was another classic ‘day before groceries’ meal, of Tesco Finest potatoes dauphinoise (not exactly what I would think of as dauphinoise, but very tasty) with roasted Mediterranean veg. Mum, needless to say, approved of this meal, as she generally does of anything involving roasted peppers.

Tomorrow I will be calling the GP to ask for further help with mum’s headaches. I will also be following up on friend’s suggestion that a head and shoulder massage might help mum, although I don’t know (and neither did mum when I asked her) if she would actually be willing to go ahead if I managed to arrange something.

For now, I’m off to eat the last of the chocolate doughnuts from last week’s grocery order. It’s now pretty stale, which is generally the only chance I get to eat things like that: when they’re fresh and tasty, they’re solely mum’s purview.

And if you think that sounds like a mildly depressing way to live, you’re not wrong. That’s why I have my own private supply of tasty snacks, hidden under everything that’s piled on the sofa-bed in my room. 🤫