Suliana has one eye on the load of washing and one eye on her son as he dances near his glass of milk. She repeats herself, Watch out, son. Your drink is on the floor. But he carries on moving from one end of the bedroom to the other, eyes glued to the TV screen.
She folds the washing, robotically, as her mind drifts away, thinking of what a difficult week she has had mentally. Nobody cares about me. I feel like a failure as a mother. I don t know what I m doing as a mother. I m not good enough. Why can t my family and friends be considerate of how hard I m working? Looking after three kids is so hard, she thinks.