It's been quite a week.

Talk about no fucking staying power!

I used to be able to rise early, iron shit for the 2 of us, get the girl to school and me to work, work like a dog, get us both home and if a sitter was available and the opportunity given, I could drink and dance all night and then front up to do it all again the next day. Or at least that's my rose tinted memory. The truth might have been more like up, work, marking, bed and do it all again but with less vigour towards Friday, and spend the holidays being sick with whatever lurgy the kids had dragged in and so kindly shared around, cos let's face it the only time a teacher has to be sick is during the hols.

But I certainly was cramming a lot of shit into a day.

Times have changed. Now I don't sleep, and get up earlyish and take the poison and sometimes feel fine and sometimes feel like shit. When things need to be done I can mostly manage to push on with it, but sometimes the fatigue slaps me like an ALI butterfly punch and I fall into a heap. It's like you can taste the tired, and I can tell you it sure doesn't taste like chocolate.

And the crawl to Friday this week has been a bit like that.

Monday seems too far away to even recall what I did, so it can't have been much.

Tuesday was the show down at the Grandie's school. And that sure as shit was no picnic. Seriously we were in that little room - all 4 of us, for an hour and a half, they could have at least put the kettle on. The fill in Principal and the cliche deputy and My Girl and me. It achieved about what I expected - fuck all. They said it was the Grandie's fault his results were rubbish, except that in the next breath they insisted that average was the new fabulous, mediocre the new black I suppose. We were lectured about modern educational philosophy until I could stand it no longer and asked if we could leave the abstract bullshit behind and actually discuss the boy. I have had classes of mad slow stinking year 9 boys who have been more engaged and who listened with greater interest than these 2. But this is what we expected.

What I didn't know and he certainly didn't cop to, was that the old deputy fella, had been in on such meetings with My Girl, about the bullying, before, at least 2 or 3 times before and still he sat there saying that the school knew nothing of the problem. He took more than a full foolscap page of notes in his tiny anal little script, so I imagine that he has done this before. This subterfuge was more than I expected. Yes I expected them to defer blame for a lack of progress, but I was surprised with the bold faced lying. Unfortunately through a lack of confidence My Girl didn't mention this cos I would have gone off like a rocket. Stinking lying toe-rag.

The cherry on the day was returning a pair of ancient crutches she had rented from some shit pharmacy, and being told that even though she had paid for a week less than a day ago, they weren't gonna give the money back - essentially just leave that broken shit there and fuck off.

Then it was off to Martial Arts. Sometimes I wait for it to be finished so I can have a look see at him breaking boards or doing combat or whatever and sometimes if I am weary I come home early, but as I was the taxi cos of the busted up ankle, leaving early was not an option. It was a tired old thing that wandered into the Big House on Tuesday evening.

I fired off a carefully worded email to the fill in Principal just to sumarise the meeting and then fixed myself in the car again and drove up for the Grandie's Grading. This was quite the big deal. It was his first, so no-one knew what to expect. It was exciting in small bursts and otherwise was an excellent time to check on emails etc on my phone. Really can I be the only one not the least bit interested in the progress of other people's kids?

The grading was in places hitherto unknown, we missed the entrance and sailed right passed it, and then had to park up some distance away and do the 'wait a minute I'm on crutches dance', cos there was no way of getting back there fighting across 6 lanes of traffic and a concrete traffic island.

His 'Pattern' was executed well and he broke the boards and the combat seemed to be good, but who the fuck am I to comment on that? We imagine that he will be awarded his yellow Belt but I don't want to count the chickens.

Then we all crutch danced outta there, 2 hours later and found the car and headed back to where we know for some dinner - burgers that were unfortunately cold and a good dollop of ice cream for pudding.

By this time I was rooted and so dropped off the kids and pointed the little car for home. Perhaps the 4 different lots of 'Roadworks' might have helped to keep me awake and yes it was another tired old thing walking in on Wednesday too.

Thursday we were up early to take Dog off for her 'investigation' at the Vets. And then I was flat out on the couch all day.

The tiredness is hard to describe.

I remember when I was newly single and giving child free Saturday nights a real nudge.  Drinking way too much, and dancing and drinking some more and somehow getting home along with the milkman, except that there were no milkmen then they had gone the way of the IGAs and the 7-11s, but you get the idea. I would fall into bed, lucky if I remembered to remove the shoes, and I'd find the makeup smeared on the pillow case in morning or afternoon. The lack of sleep and the booze and no food all mushed up together left me in a dizzy, nauseous, hard to breathe state. Well that's how this is - Hungover without the benefits of the drinking or the dancing or the laughing good times.

Reckon it's gonna be another slow one today cos just when you figure you're so fucking tired you could sleep for Australia, you're awake at 3 am trying to read so you fall back to sleep, except that you are so tired your eyes don't work properly.

Yep it's been a big one, - just not like the 'Big Ones' of my youth.

Oh and Dog is OK. Her hips are good but she has some bone growth on the last disc in her back and the guy reckons that as that calcifies she should be good as gold, but in the mean time she will need a little pain killer anti-inflammatory pill at night - these suckers cost nearly $6 each! I wonder what would happen if we gave her an Advil? She had a couple of cysts sliced off too so she was a soppy old dope last night but today she is bright as a button, bless her.