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OVERWORKED
THE LONG AFTERNOON only continued as i wiped the stains of the kitchen counter, my two year old toddler gripping onto my leg whining incoherent words that only came out as muffled to my over-worked self.
Beads of sweat were forming and resting on my hairline as the room began to get unusually stuffy despite the number of windows i have propped open not long ago.
My son's incessant babbling wasn't helpful as i was already bothered by the heat and the cleaning; i was running a tight schedule already with the fact that Ansu had yet to return from training, leaving me stranded on my own to get the house ready for his family's visit tomorrow.
I recalled the long list of tasks yet to be done, the living room that was filled to the brim with toys and mess caused by my son, the laundry that piled up to near-unmanageable heights and the furniture that needed to get dusted.
After several moments of contemplating, i finally decided to deal with the laundry first since it would be faster to clean than the living room was. But my son had other plans it seemed as he began to pull my hands away from the clothing, crying his whiny and somewhat grating voice.
And all i could do was let out a tired sigh as i held him in my arms and began to talk to him in a gentle tone just so he would calm down. I didn't have the energy to deal with a tantrum at the moment with all that was going on.
He was probably hungry, that much was true considering he had yet to eat a proper meal, with my focus being on making meals for his dad's family's visit. So i settled him down on the living room carpet near his pile of toys and began to hand him the plate of mashed vegetables he hadn't finished from his breakfast.
He only took a few half-hearted bites from his food and went back to whining again. And it was starting to get to me as well. I could feel my patience slowly running thin and so when he refused to keep eating, i gave him a small toy to keep him busy.
I began to feel slightly light headed as i stood up to grab one of his small cars, taking note of the heat in the room being the culprit of the cause. I could feel sweat running down my face, stinging my eyes.
My vision was starting to fuzz a bit, making my body feel a little bit unstable. I could tell that my son was becoming worried with the way his eyebrows creased and his eyes went wide, his little hands grabbing onto my leg and trying to get my attention.
All i could do was give him a strained smile, trying to cover up that anything was wrong when my entire body felt like it didn't have as much blood flow as I would have liked and standing was already somewhat of a challenge.
The room felt so stuffy as if i was in some sauna that made it almost impossible to think clearly, my legs shaky under the weight of my own body.
After a short while i finally decided to lay down on the couch, trying to take in as much air as i could. As my senses were becoming more muddled, i laid down and tried to slow my breathing to avoid hyperventilating.
