For many years no matter how tired or run down I was, I carried on. I'd need the loo;hold it, need a drink;it would wait, nails in desperate need of a manicure;oh well and it went on like this for ages. I always maintained that it didn't matter what my emotional, physical or mental needs were as long as the kids were happy and healthy then that was all that mattered. After all, they didn't ask to be born did they? So it was my duty to make sure they always came first. Then BAM , I became very poorly and couldn't do very much at all and literally everything in the house went to pot. The dirty laundry pile got out of control, dinners became chicken nuggets and chips daily, our home looked like a tip and generally everything just fell apart. To be fair, I have to take the blame for a lot of this because everyone is so used to me doing absolutely everything and refusing help that when I'm unable to do anything nobody has a clue what to do. It was during that bout o