Losing the plot

Just popping on here for a quick update and vent as usual!

It's 1pm on Sunday, and this weekend ranks as one of the toughest in my parenting history. Darcie has been in full blown psycho mode all yesterday and all today, I realise that most people secretly suspect we exaggerate when we talk about her behaviour, but honestly she is demented. I'm not going to rant on and on, as to be honest I feel shattered physically and mentally (despite spending ten hours in bed last night) and haven't got the strength. Darcie was OK on Friday night, mainly because we didn't come straight home from school, instead going to the park with my friend Jo and her two kids. The more time she spends outside the better she is, although this rule doesn't always apply and the moods often happen when we're out too.

Yesterday morning Darcie kicked off big time, and she hasn't stopped since. I've been screamed at, slapped, hit, accused of random things and told I can't go in various rooms. A good example of how peculiar Darcie is and frankly how disturbing her behaviour is - a few days ago, Simon had the audacity to go out by himself, a crime punishable by death. Being left with her mother is apparently such a cruel, unfair and torturous thing that Darcie saw red and started screeching. I was using the computer, attempting to do what Simon repeatedly instructs me to do and which I often fail at - ignoring her. She asked me where daddy was, I told her calmly several times, receiving the usual "why has he gone to Asda? I know, it's because he hates me and wants me to die." response, duly ignored. Suddenly Darcie said the following "OK, come on, where have you hidden the body this time? I know you've murdered him. You murder people, hide the bodies and then the police turn up. You lie and say you don't know where the bodies are. You're always doing this, you're evil. Pure evil." For once, I was genuinely too stunned to speak.

Now, I would like to categorically state here that I have never murdered anyone, hidden the body and then lied to the police. Sure, I have a list of people who I would love to murder but I'm not that horrible and anyway, I'm not clever enough to hide the body and then successfully lie to the police and convince them I'm innocent. I was genuinely disturbed by Darcie's accusations, what the hell goes through her mind? Does she honestly think I do this? Oh and then she went on to accuse me of being the person who killed (if she was killed) Madeleine McCann. Now the thought of a child free holiday in Portugal sounds fantastic, but as I pointed out to Darcie, I would have found better things to do there than murder an innocent child!

This isn't the first time Darcie has accused me of being a killer, just the other day she stated that I am a murdering robot, and I'm regularly accused of slaughtering her father who miraculously comes back to life. (maybe he's actually Jesus in disguise, thinking about it they have similar hair styles, hmmm......) The kid has a death fixation, granted it's a confusing yet fascinating subject for most people, and incredibly hard for children to understand, but......I resent being accused of being a serial killer. A few months ago, Darcie randomly accused me of hating twins in her school, who I genuinely didn't realised existed. She said that I'm secretly planning on killing one of them, and that nobody would know because they're apparently identical and one would still be there. I kind of follow her logic in an abstract way, but she's wrong of course - people would realise that only one twin was at school, and I assume their parents would notice that rather than having two children, they only had one. We reckon that Darcie fantasises about killing people, and then accuses me of wanting to do it, such a frightening thought. Hopefully eventually she'll mature and stop these crazy thoughts, but if she thinks these things as a 9 year old, what the hell impulses will she feel as an adult? Is she going to lose the plot one day and end up killing someone? Is she going to go to the police and say I've murdered someone and hidden the body? Honestly, it's both ridiculous and terrifying.

Yesterday Darcie screeched at me to "go away forever, just die!" fair enough we all say things in temper, but sometimes the truth comes out when we're angry. She's obsessed with screaming "go away! go away!" at the moment whenever I walk into a room she's in, and things like "you've lived here long enough, now go!" whilst pointing to the door. I wasn't an angel child, but never in a million years would I have spoken to either of my parents like that. I remember being maybe five or six and my mum struggling to get my shoes on before we went out for a meal. I was obviously in an awkward mood and she snapped and said "I've had enough of you today." I clearly recall saying "I've had enough of you too." and the silence which followed, the kind of silence which makes you hold your breath as you know you've gone too far and something bad is going to happen. My mum chucked my shoes (black patent, all the rage in about 1985) on the floor and stalked out of the room. I dissolved into tears as I knew I'd done wrong, and was regretting it. Mum promptly told my dad who lost his temper and informed me that the meal was cancelled and we'd have beans on toast for lunch instead! Of course we did go but that event stuck in my mind forever, I realised that I'd been rude, and although I wasn't the perfect child, I apologised and promised not to say that again. To my credit, I have never, ever told my mum I've had enough of her since then, although I admit to sometimes thinking it!

Darcie will probably never remember an incident like that though, because she behaves like that to me pretty much constantly. That would be mild for her, and we wouldn't think much of it because she's rude and nasty to us most of the time. I would never have dreamed of telling my mum to leave, or accusing her of being a serial killer, but that's what I get hurled at me most days. Gradually Simon & I have come to the conclusion that Darcie resents me because, quite simply, she wants to be me. She wants to drive me away so that she can be Mummy, which is crazy - I've never come across a child so insanely resentful and competitive towards their own mother.

I'm afraid that I haven't dealt with Darcie well at all this weekend. I lost the plot majorly when she locked herself in the bathroom yesterday lunchtime and refused to open the door, apparently she is going to report my wicked behaviour to my own mum so that I can be duly reprimanded. I've said some awful things to Darcie this weekend, things my mum never said to me and things which I never imagined saying to my own child. In my defence though, being blindly hated by a child you've brought into the world and sacrificed a lot for is incredibly hurtful. I often think that nobody on this planet is capable of hurting me as much as Darcie is, and realise that she's fully aware of this.

This was meant to be about my little boy Harvey and his adventures (or rather mis adventures) now he's a big school boy. I have concerns and worries which I will write about, also a decision (well half decision really at the moment) which I've made but now isn't really the time. Darcie wants her lunch, I'm reluctant to feed her but suppose I can't let her go hungry! Then we're off to the park, where she'll stomp around, glare at me, accuse me of cruelty because I won't fork out for ice creams, and then refuse to leave, informing me as she did last week that I can go away and she'll only go home in her own time. Oh, how tempted I was to leave her behind last Sunday, the only thing which prevented me for doing so was the little voice somewhere deep down that reminded me that despite everything, I really do love her.

Freedom

It's 2am and normal people are fast asleep.......which is okay as I'm not normal! I really should be tucked up in bed, unfortunately I fell asleep with Mr-there's-no-way-I'm-going-to-sleep-in-my-own-bed at about 8/9pm tonight and woke up at 1am feeling confused and angry. The only way to get Harvey to sleep in the evening is to lie down on our bed with him, naturally lying down towards the end of the day makes me go all dopey and I often doze off. For a while I manage to fight the urge to sleep but it's been a knackering week and of course tonight was one of those bloody nights when my body just decided to zonk out. Waking up thirsty, confused and fully clothed with the lights still on reminds me so much of my student days, the only difference these days is I have a sleeping 4 year old next to me dressed in Mr Strong PJ's rather than a cold stinking burger and an empty bottle of wine!

So......the Hellidays are officially over and I've been very lazy with this blog. Free time isn't something I've had much of recently, Simon's family made their annual pilgrimage down to Portsmouth last Saturday & we spent most of the week either with them or running around like headless chickens getting ready to meet up with them. On Sunday we went to Bognor which was fun, haven't been there since I was about 2 so had no memories of the place, but oddly it seemed familiar. Harvey had a terrific time playing and talking to himself on the "wet mud" which was actually sand, our beaches in Portsmouth are pebbly so sand always utterly thrills him. Darcie did the whole "I'm too cool for this" thing and hung out with her grandparents while Simon & I took photos of Harvey which will really embarrass him in ten years and attempted to lure him away from the sea and sand. Bognor is definitely on my mental list of places to visit next summer, the Isle of Wight has also made it onto that list, we went there on Tuesday. Darcie had the day off school & we all went on the steam railway and then onto Shanklin for more sand! We don't go to the IOW very often, but each time we go I remember how lovely it is there & how much I like it. The old London tube trains are very cool and remind me of home, and I also get flashes back to my childhood as I went to the IOW with my parents a few times as a kid. These days we only go over there in the summer and of course it'll be bleak and miserable during the winter like anywhere, but it's a very cool place. We're hoping to have a little holiday in the Isle of Wight next August, hope it works out as it should be fun.

Harvey's first day of school was Thursday, which actually worked out well as we were so busy with his parents that when the big day arrived I didn't have much opportunity to stress. Harvey only went in the morning & finished at midday; we'd then arranged to head straight up to Gun Wharf and go up the famous Spinnaker Tower, before all heading back to out flat for a meal. It felt like we'd been waiting forever for Harvey's first day of school, but somehow I still hadn't got the uniform completely organised, despite plenty of help/random nagging from my mother! After a restless night involving bizarre dreams, I was woken up by Harv at 6.30am and then promptly realised that I'd forgotten to clean the bathroom up from the kids baths the previous evening. I dashed to the bathroom and began desperately tidying up, cursing myself for a) allowing my kids to make such a huge mess b) buying a bath bomb containing massive amounts of glitter which had welded itself to the bath overnight c) being so lazy and incompetent. I ranted to myself as I worked, but by about 7.15am the bathroom was tidy and I'd also had a shower which was fairly impressive really.

As always we were running late (I tell myself that one day I won't be rushing, but that's a load of crap, that day will never come) but by about 8.30am we had both kids dressed in the correct uniforms, Darcie's lunch made and bag packed (I'm hopeful that by her seventeenth birthday she might have reached the stage of considering organising her own stuff) and after the usual nagging/threats from Simon (freakily fast at getting dressed) we were out of the door, leaving chaos similar to that caused by a moderate hurricane behind us.

Harvey looked so incredibly smart and handsome in his school uniform that I fully expected strangers to stop us in the street and ask to take his photo, as he was truly the best looking school child of all time. His amazing good looks mean that he can't walk overly fast though, so I was forced to half drag him as usual, admit cursing from Simon and desperate pleas to hurry up. It's always Simon & Darcie in the lead when we go anywhere, while Harvey and I get left behind, talking to various inanimate objects and hoping that the next toilet isn't too far away. He drinks insane amounts of orange squash and has a hygienic yet annoying obsession with washing his hands, therefore requiring many, many toilet dashes on trips out - I simply have a much weaker bladder than I used to have, and am slowly turning into my mother who needs the toilet approximately every ten minutes whenever she leaves the house.

Darcie disappeared into her playground without even saying goodbye on Thursday morning, annoying really as I was hoping to thoroughly embarrass her with a huge public display of maternal affection. Simon & I found Harvey's classroom and were informed that rather than the usual starting time of 8.40am (yeah right, never going to be there at that time) he in fact wasn't meant to be there until 9am that day, making us early by default for one of the first times in my life as a mum. We hung around in the hall outside his Rabbit classroom (the other one is Field mice, having a pathological fear of mice and rats I was utterly relieved when we discovered that he's a bunny) before his teachers took pity on us and said we could go in and wait. Harvey's main teacher is Miss Cummings who seems really nice (I met her at his induction afternoon at the end of last term, typically I forgot about it and we were late but she doesn't seem to hold that against me) she actually spoke to us which is more than some of Darcie's teachers have done in the past. A tiny little girl called Lily was there too, obviously having been abandoned by her parents - either they had to dash off to get to work or simply couldn't stand being with their daughter for another minute after the endless holidays! Harvey went all shy as expected and made sounds rather than constructing sentences, we played with chalkboards and magnetic letters with him and desperately attempted to get him to communicate using words. Finally his friend from nursery, Cameron, turned up with his mum (not the most maternal woman in the world and went for the kiss-and-run method which I failed miserably at) I honestly felt love for Cameron when he held Harvey's hand and declared that they were best friends, suddenly Harvey perked up and allowed himself to be led away from us. The time had come to leave, the boys were settled on a mini-sofa thing with their backs to the door, perfect opportunity to sneak off. I fought the urge to stay with my precious son all morning, and tried to impress Miss Cummings and her worried looking sidekick Mrs Morgan (who doesn't look old enough to be a teacher, let alone a Mrs) by saying in a wobbly yet determined voice "OK then darling, Mummy's going now, having a wonderful time." hugged my little boy who I'm sure was only crawling around last month, and headed out of the door. Harvey turned around to look at me as I left, I blew him a kiss and to my delight he blew one back before returning to chatting to Cameron. As a mum there are certain images and moments which stay with you forever, and I know that I'll have that picture of my little curly haired boy blowing me a kiss on his very first day of school in my memory for the rest of my life. I'll look at him when he's a great strapping 35 year old and remember that moment.

I'm always glad to have Simon with me on these occasions as he encourages me to leave/ physically drags me away, assuring me that Harv is fine, which he was. Even so, there was a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes as I walked down the road as a mother of two school age children.

Fortunately as I said, I was too busy to let the tears flow, we dashed straight to Lidl and bought stuff to make the lasagne the in-laws had requested ( I strongly suspect that they think I'm incapable of making anything complicated, last years roast was a bit of a disaster) We then ran home and spent the next two and a half hours madly tidying up, and preparing the dreaded lasagne. Midday saw us at school once again, and after an agonising wait Miss Cummings appeared holding Harvey's hand.....I did my best to play it cool but I was so happy to see him and so relieved that he'd been okay. He was delighted with the giant tube of smarties I'd bought him as a bravery present, and even more delighted that he'd received the coveted "Miss Cummings Special Award" despite not fully understanding what he'd done to achieve it. I strongly suspect that every child may have receive this award, but repeatedly praised my clever boy and informed him that in the history of the world no child has ever been as brilliant on their first day of school.

We jumped in a taxi and joined the in-laws at Gun Wharf, spent the afternoon up the Spinnaker Tower - granted it's just a view but I've been up it 3 times and each time Harv has spoiled it for me by being a total pest. I spent a small fortune on ice lollies and toys for him in a desperate attempt to placate him, but tiredness and the fact it was boiling hot made him as ratty as hell. Finally we headed off to collect Darcie and then back to our flat for tea, the lasagne turned out okay and the in-laws smiled bravely whilst eating it. I reckon they headed straight to Macdonalds afterwards, but at least we made the effort!

Simons family have gone home today (well yesterday actually as now it's officially Sunday) and we probably won't see them for another year. The kids enjoyed seeing them and it's nice to remind Darcie & Harvey that they do in fact have two sets of grandparents! I never really had grandparents as a kid, and I honestly think it's wonderful that my children have two complete sets who love (or tolerate in my dads case) them. I love that our parents get so much pleasure from the children, and that it's thanks to us!

I'm nervous about the coming week. Friday is Harvey's first day of full-time school and it's going to be weird. I swing between feeling tearful as it really will be the end of an era, he won't generally be at home with me during the day ever again, which is sad as I've loved him being little despite all the hard work. Harv's my mate, and I'll truly be lost without him. I am really looking forward to the freedom though, and feel dizzy at the thought of whole days to myself, just to get on with stuff. In actual fact it's not a long time though, as he finishes school at 2.55pm so by about 2.30pm every day I'll have to be getting ready to leave. I realise the days will fly by, but people keep saying "wow, all that free time, what are you going to do?" and I feel worried as I still don't know. I'm thinking about doing a course, but have no idea what in - I'm conscious that I can't muck around now, if I'm going to do a course it has to lead to a job. I don't want to get stuck doing some pointless course, I'm 31, I need to have a career now. I hate the fact I don't know what to do with my life, it's awful. Nobody seems to really understand, but I guess it's something I'll have to work out for myself, haven't a clue where to start though :o(

Just realised it's 3.30am, bloody hell! I'll be back very soon with more on the job/course thing, but for now I think I'm going to have to go and get some sleep.........

Putting the Hell in Helliday

Not an official Helliday update, planning on doing a proper entry later.....just sneaking on here as I need to vent! As the title suggests, my kids are truly putting the Hell in Helliday today, god I just want to stand in the middle of a field and SCREAM! Yes I am insane, but they've made me this way!

It was going okay-ish, the end is in sight, nobody has been serious injured either accidentally or otherwise.....but suddenly I've lost the plot. Just over a week to go which isn't too bad, but it honestly feels like these holidays are never going to end. Harvey has been bugging me since 5.45am today, normally it takes a lot for me to get annoyed with him but he's stressing me out. He simply will not leave me alone, I can't get anything done and it's so frustrating. I feel so incredibly guilty about snapping at him as I absolutely adore my little boy, he's so sweet, so loving and best of all he willingly spends time with me! All I get is blind hatred from Darcie and it's wonderful that Harvey and I have such a good relationship. He's fantastic but Jesus is he wearing me out at the moment. I know he's bored, worried about school, and upset by the constant battles with Darcie, but........as I said I hate myself for getting cross with him and making him sad, but I just wish he'd leave me alone for a little while. I keep thinking that when he's at full time school I'll miss him so much and that I should make the most of now, but it's just so hard.

As always Darcie is the main problem. There is just no let up from her moods at the moment, it's like a nightmare. Today I could honestly flush her down the toilet, she's just soooooo impossible. She enjoys staring at me until I look at her, then yelling "what are you staring at?" just an attention thing I know, but so rude. I'm constantly accused of plotting to murder her, suffocating her, strangling her, hating her, it goes on and on. She's so unpleasant it's unreal. I'm screamed at almost every time I walk into my own front room, and she stamps her feet constantly like a bloody demented toddler.

And I'm meant to buy her an X box - NO WAY IN HELL CHILD!!!! And no, you're not getting an iPad for your birthday either, in fact it's increasingly unlikely that you'll survive until your birthday.

Simon has cooked cheese on toast for me so I'll say bye for now, but I'll be back with more ranting soon.........on the positive side I do feel a bit better now.

Hellidays Part 5

Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go to London......I noticed an oriental woman wearing a t-shirt with that slogan in Asda a few days ago, and think it's fantastic. I spent the rest of my shopping trip chuckling to myself and got some very odd looks!

WEDNESDAY 11TH AUGUST 2010 - EYE DAY

I mentioned in my previous post that my mum & I were taking the kids up to London for the day, so we could go on the Eye. Harvey was bursting with excitement about this planned event, and I was rudely awoken early on Wednesday morning by him literally jumping all over me and shouting that "Eye day" was here at last - he made it sound like he was due to have a horrific eye operation but fortunately it was a slightly more pleasant experience.

My darling mother had planned the outing with military precision and I was as always in awe of her organisational skills. Despite being very wary of the internet (she points out regularly that when I innocently use thetrainline.com to find out train times, etc. I might actually be chatting to a raging serial killer intent on hunting me down, slicing me open from top to bottom and boiling my vital organs up in a pan for his lunch, to give her credit I don't know for certain that the site in question wasn't created by a serial killer. The mere mention of Facebook makes my mother visibly shudder, I'm too frightened to tell her I've lied about my daughters age in order to create an account for her.) Mum managed to arm herself with a home made information sheet outlining various times and prices for our journey, all the info was acquired using those ancient methods of telephone and speaking to breathing people face to face.

After several phone conversations and heated discussion, mum and I had settled on a day and time for our trip. When she came over last Saturday we booked the tickets (in a real life ticket office, how retro) and had the day planned in minute detail, her determination and fierce expression left me too scared to confess that I was already exhausted despite Eye day still being 4 days away.

Tuesday evening saw me & my mum engaged in a final discussion phone call, she assured me that she had everything organised and so all I had to do was board the 10.20am train to London Victoria with my children in tow on Wednesday morning. Mum instructed me to position myself in the second carriage down (she never travels in the first or last carriages because apparently if you're in one of those and the train crashes then you're more likely to die, I suspect that her career as a teacher was a lie and she secretly devoted her entire working life to proving this fact) phone her on her mobile and confirm that everything was going to plan, then welcome her on board the train twenty minutes later at Chichester. She'd made herself a special bag especially for the occasion, and had food, drink, entertainment, first aid equipment and everything we would possibly need already packed. My mum finally hung up and spent the rest of her evening happily watching telly and drinking wine before curling up in her bed complete with ironed duvet covers (who the hell irons duvet covers?) and sleeping soundly. I however, spent the evening frantically rushing around tidying my tip of a flat and packing the bag that I had repeatedly assured my mum was already packed.

So, Harvey woke up full of beans on Eye day, in our bed as usual (I've given up even attempting to put him in his own bed, let's face it the kid will still be sleeping next to me when he's 13) Just as I was enjoying a few minutes with my book, I heard the devastated cries of my daughter coming from her bedroom, complete with wretched sobbing "I feeeel siiiiiick!" the words struck terror into my heart. It was like a nightmare, after developing chickenpox a week before the summer holidays started, Darcie had woken up on the one day I'd arranged something which couldn't easily be altered, ill. The little boy who lives opposite us, Lloyd, came over for tea on Sunday and promptly announced he was ill and had been sick the previous day, we were annoyed with his mum for letting him come around when he was poorly to be honest. I had a hunch he'd share his germs with our two, and it looked like my hunch was right.

It was one of those frequent times when I simply didn't know what to do. Simon desperately spooned calpol into Darcie's mouth while she sobbed, thrashed around and made suicide threats, once Harvey realise Eye day was jepordised he dissolved into tears and clung to me in sheer desperation. It wasn't much past 7am and we were faced with two sobbing children. Darcie informed me that my mum had set her alarm for 7.30am and I suspected she was already awake, but still felt it was just too early to phone (my dad isn't a morning person, a trait I've inherited along with his surprisingly short arms) Darcie looked awful and I was torn between being sympathetic and cursing her for being ill. Finally it got passed 8am and I phoned my parents, predictably my dad was groggy and less than helpful, doing what he always does in a crisis and letting my mum deal with it. Mum struggled to hide the irritation in her voice but did seem genuinely sympathetic and concerned, easier over the phone than in person I suppose. She advised waiting an hour and then seeing how Darcie was, if she wasn't fit to go then either I'd just take the sobbing red blob that was Harvey or we'd cancel completely. An endless hour later Darcie had perked up although she had a meltdown when Simon made her plain toast in an attempt to calm her stomach - plain toast is apparently more lethal than poison, cheaper too so I'm left wondering why more people don't use it to knock off their victims. She managed a couple of slices of cheese and wanted to come with us, after plenty of deliberation, screaming and insult hurling we decided to take our chances and let her go. I rapidly packed a full change of clothes for Darcie though (ha ha mother, see I can be organised!) just in case.

10.20am saw me on the correct train, in the correct carriage with the kids, feeling utterly exhausted. They ignored the expensive magazines I'd bought them for the journey, the toys on the front did keep them occupied for nearly 5 minutes though which wasn't too bad (£5 for 2 kids magazines, I remember the days when a family of four could buy a years grocery shopping for that and have a fortnights holiday in Spain with the change) Mother duly boarded the train at Chichester and all was well. Darcie had recovered well enough to scoff a packet of bacon crisps and half a packet of love hearts, Harvey refused to eat anything which is about right for him. The journey went okay, it's one I've made hundreds of times, first as student then as a mother. It took me back to my carefree student days; going home to Croydon for the holidays with a holdall stuffed full of dirty washing and a gigantic hangover, excited at the prospect of proper food and a clean bed and desperately trying to remember who I'd snogged the previous night. Ah, happy days....I'm certain they're happier in my memory than they were at the time though!

Darcie and Harvey went for several walks up and down the train and at long last we were in London. Going through East Croydon was weird, all the times I got off there, all the memories that will always be contained in that place. It was a bit like opening a memory box and then closing it again quickly, very odd. Right from being little I've always been completely fascinated with Battersea Power Station, it's so powerful (literally, being a power station) and imposing, there's something incredible about the place. It hasn't been functional in god knows how long, but I still love it - when I was a kid my mum would always be attempting to get me to look at the Thames or the bridges but I'd just stare at Battersea Power Station. Disappointingly, neither Darcie or Harvey shared my love for it, although they were very animated when they spotted an Asda out of the window.

I haven't been to Victoria train station in almost a decade, but it hasn't really changed. It was like slipping into an old coat or something, so familiar and comforting. Harvey was overjoyed to spot a Lush shop on the concourse and after paying 30p each to use the loo (next time the kids are going on the train, I don't care how disgusting the toilets are or how hard Harvey finds it to wee standing up while the train is at full speed) we headed upstairs to Macdonalds. It was heaving but we managed to somehow acquire some grub which was welcomed by my grumbling stomach (of course I didn't have the time to eat breakfast, I can't eat and get out of the flat at a reasonable time, it's impossible) My mum has a Thing about escalators going down, she refuses to use them because her eyes go weird - tedious but understandable I guess. I didn't want to be responsible for her falling and fracturing another bone, so we searched in vain for a lift, wasting valuable time. Finally a random person agreed to take mum down in a staff lift hidden behind a door while I took the kids on the escalator. After waiting for my mum for an eternity in the agreed meeting place, she appeared from a totally different direction to the one I was looking in and off we went.

Harvey was amazed to see pigeons walking around on the concourse, this is something so normal to me, they've always done that, and I didn't find it weird. He couldn't get over it though and it really tickled him, I think he genuinely believes that pigeons travel by train now, bless him. We trailed after my mum as she boarded a bus which was heading in the general direction of the Eye, and after an worryingly easy journey we were there. As we walked towards the Eye, past St Thomas' hospital (I think that's the one anyway, if you've got to be ill it must be the best hospital to be stuck in, fantastic views) the reality of just how busy London is hit me. I grew up very close to London, I was always used to being there, but I've never been anywhere as intense. I live in a fairly hectic city now, but Portsmouth is nothing in comparison. It's just indescribably frantic and everyone and everything is constantly moving. You can't stand still, it's scary and you feel kind of helpless, but at the same time it's incredible. As we admired the buses, the taxis, the proper phone boxes, the houses of parliament and Big Ben, I realised just what a fantastic place London is. Literally everywhere you look there's something else to see, and I was so excited to be showing my kids. You have to keep moving quickly though, Darcie and I frantically snapped pictures while my mum and Harvey disappeared into the distance - for once she was totally fine with me and we enjoyed taking photos of Big Ben.

I expected the area near the Eye to be packed, I've been there before, but it was tremendously busy. We fought our way to the booking hall, certain that one of the kids would end up getting lost, but miraculously the four of us all made it. Queues were snaking everywhere and time was ticking, after a mild panic my mum and I realised that the queues were in fact moving fast (of course, everything moves fast in London) and within twenty minutes or so we were £50 worse off and had four tickets in our hot little hands. My mum shunned the idea of pretending Harvey was 3 as kids under 4 go free, not sure we could have got away with it but I thought it would be worth a shot (more proof that I am indeed my fathers daughter)

More queues awaited us, and suddenly all was not well with Darcie. She went all flushed and moody (well more moody than usual) and Harvey also started flagging, mid-afternoon being his usual down time. The waiting was endless, the sun was beating down and the kids alternately whined and sulked. I tried to persuade Darcie to have some calpol but she refused point blank (mum, stop it, you are sooooo embarrassing! is she 8 or in fact a hormonal teenager?) my mum paid hideous amounts of money for bottles of coke hoping that would cool Darcie down, despite me instructing her not to as my precious daughter had refused the juice we had with us, thus demonstrating that she couldn't truly be thirsty) even that treat didn't produce happiness, only more sulking and accusations. Sensing imminent disaster I turned my attention to my tired little boy who immediately announced that he needed the toilet. We were fast approaching the end of the line, gearing up to get into our pod where we would be suspended in mid-air for at least 30 minutes with no toilet facilities. I was faced with a dilemma; wander off in search of the toilets and risk not being able to locate my mum and Darcie again, or ignore Harvey's pleas and risk him wetting himself in the pod in front of total strangers. My mum remained unusually silent so I made the decision myself, I dashed off with Harvey in search of a bush. Usually he's willing to having a wee behind or against anything (in fact he prefers going against a green electricity box than in the nursery toilets) but there were too many people around, he was too hot, weary and ratty to help me out. I ended up tearing back to the booking hall, dashing down a long flight of stairs to the ladies loos, where I suspect I bypassed the queue. I refused to even let him wash his hands (don't worry, usually I insist on the kids washing their hands, skipping it once won't kill anyone, hopefully not anyway) and instead dragged him back towards the line, ignoring desperate cries for an ice lolly. My mum had meanwhile accosted a lovely young man and explained the situation, he'd let her and Darcie step out of the queue while they awaited our return, without actually losing our place forever. Within minutes we were in our pod and I had the beginnings of a headache that would persist for the rest of the afternoon.

To be honest, the kids didn't enjoy the Eye experience as much as I'd hoped. Harvey had been utterly convinced it was some kind of fairground ride, despite us showing him photos online. Darcie was still rejecting medicine and neither child was in a particularly pleasant mood. I made up for their lack of enthusiasm by listening intently to my mums commentary and making appropriate comments, secretly wishing I was at home with an enormous bottle of wine. It was stifling in the pod and eventually the kids settled near the lone ineffective fan with a little girl they'd befriended. I enjoyed the experience and noticed that they were actually peering out of the window and taking something in, despite Harvey being initially convinced he'd plummet to his death. My mum found some unfortunate tourists to chat to, so I admired the greatest city in the world while enjoying a few minutes peace.

When we disembarked from our pod I felt a mixture of relief but disappointment that Darcie and Harvey hadn't been overly thrilled. My mum convinced Darcie to take some calpol, and then we headed to the little park a few steps away that Harvey had been desperate to go to. I treated everyone to ice lollies (well everyone except Darcie who refused one, confirming my suspicions that she felt terrible) the park was really too crowded but Harvey was satisfied with a blue sword constructed out of modelling balloons which my mum bought him. He had a terrific time attacking pigeons with the sword while eating his lolly - as soon as it started melting though he hurled it into the Thames. The kids had money burning holes in their pockets, so we went into a little gift shop, selling traditionally tacky souvenirs. Darcie made a beeline for a teddy wearing some kind of pink cape, costing £14. I immediately informed her that ill or not, there was absolutely no way I was coughing up that amount of money for a souvenir. I at once became Meanest Mum ever known to man, while my own mum desperately searched for an alternative in order to placate her precious granddaughter. The alternative smaller bear dressed in an "I love London" jumper was a mere £6, Darcie enraged me by hurling it back on the shelf in a spoilt temper tantrum. I told her off while my mum bought the bear for me and Simon as a souvenir, angering Darcie further - she was rapidly escorted out of the shop and my blood boiled with rage.

Somehow my daughter made it back to Victoria train station alive, and we realised we had a mere 15 minutes before our train home departed. Both children ended up in floods of tears at the thought of no souvenirs, and in a mad moment of kindness I remembered the over-priced souvenir shop we'd walked past earlier at the top of the escalator. My mum hurled some extra cash at her grandchildren and waited with the bags, desperate to escape them for a few minutes I suspected. We had 10 minutes to chose and purchase something and be on the train. The indian man running the shop watched with amusement as I desperately tried to persuade my kids to pick something appropriate, cheap and long lasting in about two minutes. It was clearly an impossible task; Harvey ended up with a red london bus and taxi set costing £4.50 and Darcie got a fan (which is actually really nice) costing £6. Absolute rip off of course (I bought Harv a very similar red bus for £1 recently) but they'll hopefully keep the things they chose and they won't fall apart. Mad dash down the escalator, sprint to the barriers and then disaster struck. Put out by not having his own ticket, Harvey begged to put mine through the automatic barrier, wearily I agreed, he pushed it in and the little doors opened. He went through slowly, I tried to push through with him and the barrier closed on me. It must have been amusing but it was very painful for me - my side and bag got trapped and in a fit of anger and embarrassment I wrenched myself free, resulting in yet more pain. My mum & Darcie stiffled their giggles as I held back the tears, the only person who showed me any concern was Harvey, probably feeling guilty as he was the cause of the whole thing. He did smile gingerly at me as we boarded the train and said "beautiful you" in a typically male attempt to placate me. It worked.

The train was heaving, a final insult after a stressful day. Despite being slightly before the main rush hour, it was full of commuters, fortunately Harvey and I found two seats together when a couple of blokes got off at Clapham Junction. My mum and Darcie were sitting across the aisle in a set of six seats, squashed with four strangers, all of them suited and years younger than me. My mother proceeded to produce food, lovingly arranged in an assortment of old ice-cream tubs and tupperware boxes. The commuters glanced up from their iphones in vague amusement as mum dished out sausage rolls, crisps, ham, cheese and quiche to Darcie, motioning to the poor child to pass it across to Harvey and I. My attempts to ignore her failed, and I smiled weakly at the other passengers who returned sympathetic glances. The young bloke who had the misfortune to be sitting next to my mum mentioned that the food was making him hungry, for a horrible moment I seriously thought she was going to hand him a napkin and pile picnic food into his hands. He was the kind of guy I'd have seriously fancied a decade ago, but found myself thinking what on earth have you done to your hair? It doesn't look like it's seen a brush for a week! He was friendly enough though and happily chatted to my mum and Darcie until he escaped at East Croydon.

Harvey innocently scoffed the middle of sausage rolls and savoury eggs, and was thrilled at the tiny pot of branston pickle his granny had lovingly packed and carried around with her all day. He also gulped back my coke, and then screamed that he felt sick for a good half hour, thankfully by then most people had got off the train - for some reason our carriage was particularly empty. Darcie dozed and clearly didn't feel well, I had a burst of happiness when city turned slowly into countryside and I realised that it was nearly over, I'd survived! We left mum at Chichester, after stuffing the remaining picnic food into my bag so we'd have something to eat later on (there are times when I seriously think she believes the kids only eat when she's around) and playing a strange game in the ladies waiting room with Harvey, which I'll point out was all his idea although I suspect she enjoyed herself, she loaded us onto our train. I swear relief poured off her as we disappeared and I reckon she headed straight for the nearest off licence.

So that was London. One day when my strength has finally returned, I'll take them back, but I suspect I'll wait until they're both adults.

Hellidays Part 4

SUNDAY 8TH AUGUST 2010

Really should be scrubbing my filthy hall floor and putting the washing on, this is a desperate attempt to avoid housework! Yesterday my mum popped over and we took the kids into town, as she'd kindly promised to buy their school shoes. We've always had huge problems in Clarks with Darcie as her feet are enormous and very wide, so most styles don't fit, which generally results in her dissolving into tears. I can honestly understand that she wants pretty shoes like her friends, and feel sorry for her when she just has to have whatever fits as her feet are so wide. Something incredible happened yesterday though, for the first time ever the shoes Darcie liked best she got - they had one pair in her size and they fitted perfectly! Seriously that has never happened before, in about 7 and a half years of buying her shoes. My baby Harvey got his first ever pair of school shoes, he looks so grown up in them and I had a lump in my throat! So that's the shoes sorted thank goodness - my mother's typically organised idea of getting them now before everyone starts manically rushing around getting school stuff at the end of the holidays worked. Actually I'm feeling kind of organised about uniform this year, mainly because I'm very conscious that we have two sets to buy for the first time ever. Simon & I bought Harvey a logo jumper from the school and Darcie a cardigan just before the end of term, and I've also got Harv a couple of plain red jumpers from Tesco - am planning on getting him one more logo one and that should be enough. Lots of kids don't have the logo ones, it isn't necessary, but I like the kids to have at least one proper school jumper or cardie. Got Harv the official school PE kit too, but for some reason the secretary sold us size 7-8 which is way too big, I'll have to swap it on the first day back. Also got him a book bag which he loves, and a pair of trousers.....so much uniform to get though! We need more trousers for Harvey, a PE bag, white polo shirts, socks, plimsolls......plus more white polo shirts for Darcie (got one packet yesterday) another cardigan, PE stuff, plimsolls, socks, school bag, PE bag.......it just never ends! My mum seems to think that her school skirts from last year should fit, praying she's right and I can eventually find them!

Despite really looking forward to going shopping with Granny, Darcie still managed to have a serious case of the moodies yesterday. Mum bought us lunch then the shoes, then I bought Darcie a pen set which she was apparently desperate for.......but then the trouble started when my darling daughter decided she wanted more toys. OK, I realise that school shoes aren't much of a treat for a nearly 9 year old, but she'd also had other little bits and pieces....when I refused to buy her a ridiculously expensive Etch-a-sketch keyring thing (admittedly it was quite cool) from Wilkinson's she kicked off. I had the crying, moaning, death threats and sulking which quickly escalated to full-on screaming and incredible rudeness. It was both embarrassing and annoying, and even my mum who's officially Darcie's number 1 fan, clearly thought she was being a spoiled brat and didn't get her purse out either. It was the kind of behaviour I'd expect from a 3 year old, not a nearly 9 year old - of course shops are bursting with things designed to tempt children, but as always Darcie went over the top. I'd have honestly expected her to accept by now that, disappointing as it it, she can't always have exactly what she wants. But no, the sulks continued all around Marks & Spencer and I was so embarrassed; she only calmed down when my mum suggested a drink and cake in the cafe. Unfortunately Harvey was knackered and whiney and refused to go in, so that ended in disaster - sometimes I truly envy childless people! Finally I had the brilliant idea of heading to Lush, Harvey's new favourite shop, yep my son is a bit too feminine sometimes! The kids loved smelling all the stuff and Darcie asked me if she could buy Granny a bath bomb to apologise for her behaviour, impressed with her sudden change in attitude I agreed, trying not to laugh when she unknowingly chose "Sex Bomb" for her grandmother, not entirely appropriate but it was very pretty.

So that was yesterday, today we're having a quiet day, as I've said before I never know what to do with kids on a Sunday. Darcie went over to our neighbours for tea on Friday, Lloyd is in her year at school and they get on OK despite being very different children. I've asked Lloyd over at 4pm today, he's a bit of a psycho (in a different way to Darcie) but hell it's someone for the kids to hang out with. He's got a broken wrist at the moment so won't be able to be as destructive as usual which is a relief, the kids will probably just end up playing on the wii but it's something to do.

On Wednesday I'm taking Darcie & Harvey up to London, as they really want to go on the Eye. My mum wants to come too, which will be helpful as I'm not sure about coping with them both in London on my own, despite it being home really for me - I was born in Croydon (I'll admit that on here as hardly anyone reads this!) south London, and lived there until I moved to Portsmouth at 18. Both my kids were born in Portsmouth so this is home for them, weird in a way as neither Simon or I grew up here. We've sorted out cheap train fares (£14 adult day return which I reckon is a total bargain) but have to be back on the train by just after 4.30pm so we won't have much time in the city really. I think we'll have a picnic lunch on the train going, then head to the Eye which hopefully the kids will enjoy, hoping to show them a couple of other sights if we have time. I'm nervous about the journey (and praying Harv doesn't fall asleep on the train coming home as that'll mean we'll have him awake until midnight probably) and hope the kids behave but generally looking forward to it. It should be nice day out for us all, and I'm excited as I haven't been to London for years, not since my parents moved away from there nearly 4 years ago. I just wish we could afford to have a week or so there as there are so many places I want to take the kids to, but a hotel plus outings would just be so hideously expensive, especially this time of year. My parents always told me how incredibly lucky I was to grow up just outside London (we used to be there literally an hour after leaving home, front door to central London) but of course I didn't appreciate it as a kid, it was just normal - now I realise how fab it really was, and I wish I could whisk my kids up to London on a whim! For me, London will always mean home, I have so many memories there and Wednesday should be fun.

Anyway, back to the housework, am desperately trying to ignore the fact that my darling son is covered in chocolate spread and is happily wiping it all over his bedroom carpet!

Hellidays Part 3

THURSDAY 5TH AUGUST 2010

Yeah I know I've missed a couple of days out, but this writing every day thing is proving too much for my feeble brain! So I'll just do a quickie update.....Tuesday 3rd August - Definintely the worst day of the holidays, although today may well beat it. Darcie screamed for literally hours, eventually it turned out that she was thirsty - well I never was much good at working out why babies cry and what the hell they want! It's like having a newborn, she starts screaming and we have to think "is she hungry? is she thirsty? is she ill? has something upset her?" it's a long time since I had a tiny baby but honestly it feels like I still have one sometimes. Harvey was tired and ratty all day too which didn't help, he dozed off after lunch - yes I know 4-year-olds shouldn't nap during the day but hell it's holidays and he often doesn't sleep well at night, what harm does it do? He only managed half an hour anyway before Darcie's shrieking woke him up. She wanted to go out, but refused to get dressed, choosing instead to run around the flat half naked yelling that I was trying to kill her. No exaggeration, it took me an hour of battling to get her to to brush her hair, utterly ridiculous. Finally we escaped to the adventure playground for an hour, they had a good time but I was feeling hacked off and stressed after a tough day.

We then headed to Asda, Harv wanted to sit in the trolley and Darcie asked to push him. Initially I was pissed off with her whole attitude so said no, relenting a few minutes later. Of course by then it was far too late, Darcie had gone into a mood and decided to run away when I tried to get her to push the trolley (remember this was what she wanted to do) Asda was packed and I assumed she'd darted off to look at the toys which is her favourite hangout. I checked there, no Darcie.....walked up and down a couple of aisles, no Darcie.....that "oh my God something awful has happened" feeling built up in my chest, my hands started sweating, heart started pounding. I had flashes in my mind of someone watching her run away from me and seizing the opportunity to drag her out of the store, or her running out of the shop and into the road.....and then finally I found her. Relief + anger is never a great combination and I'll just say that the rest of the shopping trip was not a happy experience for anyone!

Wednesday 4th August 2010 - Initial plans put on hold today as it chucked down all day, is it August or November? Finally got a taxi into town after the kids lunch and hung out in the central library where there was (yet another) kids session on. Darcie & Harvey didn't really enjoy it, but we got a free hour and grabbed the opportunity to have a late lunch in the library cafe which was rather yummy. The central library is right near the uni building, Park Building, where I was based during my English course.....I remember feeling utterly and completely sick during my pregnancy with Darcie and desperately trying to find some info in the library. Dangerously close to passing out as I hadn't eaten, I headed up to the cafe for a jacket potato - I can still remember how much better that meal made me feel! I haven't eaten in that cafe since I was pregnant with her, 9 years ago. It was a real trip down memory lane, last time I shovelled food down there I had a bump, this time I had two school age children. Scary stuff huh?

The kids wanted to play on the library computers after the session had ended, goodness knows why they were so keen as we have a PC and laptop at home which they can use any time! It was still pouring down though and it killed an hour, they were happy so we were happy. I actually got to look around the library in peace and choose some books which was fab. Hired them a DVD out each (Simpsons for Darcie and predictably Postman Pat for Harvey!) then left the library and walked into town.....bought Harv a toy bus and Darcie got a fake remote control which is meant to squirt water at unsuspecting victims, but is very temperamental. Lots more moaning and acting like an idiot from Darcie in Tescos, but at least it was nearly tea time which means nearly bed time which means happiness for Simon & I!

That quick update wasn't so quick......anyway back to today! Sitting here feeling very guilty as I've been Evil Mummy this morning. Put the washing on late last night then promptly fell asleep, so had to re-wash it when I woke up, first annoyance of the day. Slept well last night though and Harv didn't wake up until 7.30am so that was good. I really needed to tidy up and put the washing out but Darcie went into scream mode, I'm rapidly getting sick of her moods. She was OK for an hour or so this morning, then as soon as I asked her to come into the kitchen to get her tablets (thyroid ones, she has to take them every morning before breakfast) she kicked off. Darcie refuses point blank to do anything I ask usually, and stood screaming in the front room - even when I say things like "OK, if you don't take your tablets then no breakfast" she doesn't snap out of it, in fact she gets worse. She draws breath and then SCREAMS as loudly as she possibly can, it must kill her throat and at times she actually loses her voice for a few seconds. Of course, I expect some resistance from her sometimes, but constantly? The more I shout, or even if I stay perfectly calm, the more worked up she gets......there is simply no way I can make her do as I ask. Taking away toys, taking away money, stopping treats, isolating her, ignoring her, smacking (go on, phone social services, yes I do smack my child sometimes, yep I'm going to hell) yelling, embarrassing her, nothing works. Simple things like taking her tablets lead to an hour of battling, before I finally give in to her and agree to staying in a different room while Simon escorts her to the kitchen so she can get them herself. I was stressed with her, shouted at her, said horrible things and meanwhile Harvey was pestering me to make an igloo. I rarely feel properly cross with him but I snapped when he insisted on stealing a freshly washed duvet cover to make the sodding igloo with. I was horrible to him and am now feeling truly evil. I think he's forgiven me but I feel awful as he wasn't the one who started this whole thing this morning. It's Darcie who winds me up so much, her who refuses to do anything I say, who tells me which rooms I can and can't enter in my own flat, her who screams at me until she's purple for no reason. She resents every breath I take, hatred oozes out of her and it's awful. All Darcie wants is to be in my position so she can control everyone, she wants to isolate me and drive me away from my own family. It sounds ridiculous and unbelievable but it's true, my daughter detests me because she honestly thinks I won't let her be an adult and have everything her own way. I'm fighting a battle I can't ever win and I'm constantly exhausted because she's so impossible. Today she screamed at me that she doesn't want to live with me and wants to live anywhere else but here with me. I do my best, I try and make things nice for her and this is what I get. I seriously thought I was going to do something awful to her, so I put her outside the front door, she was only wearing a pair of knickers at the time! Luckily it's not actually outside, just a communal hall/ stairway (the beauty of living in a flat I guess, outside the front door isn't truly outside!) it's always quiet and so nobody saw, there was no real danger. It was either that or throwing her out of the window! That didn't work, she's still in a mood......I know she's been at home for 3 weeks already and she misses her friends, but I won't be blamed for that. I just don't know what to do with her and I have another month to get through.

Anyway better do some cleaning up then sort some lunch.....then take the kids out somewhere before we all go totally insane!

Hellidays Part 2

As I said, I think I'm going to try & write something every day this summer or most days at least, this is my second summer instalment - once I start writing in this blog I find it hard to stop!! The floodgates are well and truly open.....

MONDAY 2ND AUGUST 2010

I'd booked the kids in for another activity session at our local library, the Carnegie, this morning, which ran from 10.30am-11.30am. I've already realised that these sessions are extremely popular with parents just desperate to find something for their little angels to do! The libraries are doing space themes this summer, so all the activities are based around that - stories, craft activities, etc. The main attraction for me is that Darcie & Harvey get to see other kids, a boy called Billy who's in Darcie's year at school was there today so she had someone she knew to chat to. His nan was there with him - she's officially one of the nicest people on the planet and even she looked hacked off today, probably feeling the strain of endless summer holidays!

The plan was to whisk Darcie straight up to hospital for her blood test after the library session was over, as we were told she'd have to have it done by lunchtime-ish. However, this morning a letter came from the hospital, dated days ago, explaining that the consultant Dr Wickamansurina (or something like that) had cancelled our appointment on Wednesday, it was unclear why he'd done this. Obviously with no appointment the blood test was unnecessary, which left Darcie feeling elated to have escaped it, but Simon & I confused and a bit annoyed. If we hadn't got the letter this morning then one of us would have taken Darcie all the way to hospital which is 30/45 minutes on the bus (St Marys, our local hospital, where the kids were both born, helpfully shut their childrens ward a few months ago so now we have to drag her all the way to Queen Alexandra which is a proper pain) only to be told there was no need to have the blood test. The lack of notice irritated us, so Simon phoned the hospital to complain.....initially we were meant to take Darcie for the bloody blood test last week and he phoned then to explain she had chickenpox, we were advised to take her today instead. The nurse he spoke to today made a huge fuss about the chickenpox and this was clearly the reason her appointment was cancelled - they didn't want to risk other patients catching it. Fair enough, we understand that many people in hospital waiting areas will have weakened immune systems and catching chickenpox could cause huge problems, but we feel we should have been told in the letter why they didn't want Darcie there. After being initially told we'd have to wait until December for another appointment, the nurse left a message on my mobile this afternoon saying the consultant is willing to see us on 25th August I think. So now Darcie will spend the next 3 weeks getting increasingly worked up about this blood test and appointment, aaarrrggghhh!

Brought the kids home after the library with Darcie in her usual strop because she hadn't been out long enough & Harvey moaning because he was thirsty. They stuffed themselves on hotdogs for lunch (at least while she's eating Darcie physically can't scream although she does try sometimes) and then we started doing some cooking. This is usually a very popular activity, the main attraction being that they get to eat raw cake mix, decorations, etc. and make a huge mess. While we were in the middle of it, Jo, our friend & mum to Davey who went to nursery with Harvey, phoned to see if we wanted to meet up. The kitchen was a tip and Harvey was smothered in chocolate, so we shoved the cakes in the oven and frantically rushed around trying to get organised. After generally being horrible to me all day, Darcie decided she wanted to come out with Harvey & I, despite being years older than Jo's two kids and having absolutely nothing in common with them. I finally relented and agreed to take her, leaving Simon at home to get on with his work......we headed to Orchard Park which is near the kids schools for the agreed meeting time of 4.30pm. I am hardly ever early for anything and was delighted to be there first, but after ten minutes or so began worrying that I was waiting in the wrong place! Jo turned up though, pushing her tank-like double buggy containing Davey the scarecrow child (even she admits he looks like a scarecrow) and Ellie the toddler who is hell on legs. She's quite a cute little thing when she isn't trying to run into the road, throwing things or thumping people.

The kids had a good time running around together; as I predicted Darcie was a bit old to join in properly and spent most of the time giving us a running commentary on what the three younger ones were doing. Even I admit that she was great at gate duty though, she stood guard and ensured that the nightmare child Ellie didn't achieve her ambition of running out into the road at top speed. I was also pretty proud of Darcie for not crying when Ellie whacked her on the nose and made it bleed, or thumping her back like some kids would, I was secretly amused at the sight of my giant child being beaten up by a two-year-old though! The time ticked by and eventually Harvey started flagging, I was shocked to discover it was 6.15pm. Jo showed no sign of leaving and looked surprised when I hinted that we should get going......I had a sudden thought that in a bid not to seem rude I'd end up staying in the park all night with the kids, and had already decided on the best place for us all to sleep. Eventually Jo's kids started crying/begging for food so she opted to sling them in the buggy and head home for some beans on toast. The thing I like best about her is that she doesn't make any attempt to conceal how annoying she finds her children at times, and openly admits to letting them play for hours on their own, eat things off the floor and beat each other up while she happily neglects the housework and glugs wine. That's my idea of perfect parenting, sure you love your kids but are filled with horror at the thought of entertaining them all day!

It was approaching 7 when I dragged the kids home tonight, suddenly panicing that it was virtually Harvey's bedtime and he hadn't had any tea yet! I admit a little bit of me was wondering whether I could get away with just giving him a drink and putting him to bed, I came to the conclusion that my idea was cruel, despite him having had a big lunch. My poor little boy was exhausted but valiantly munched through his tea while I made a quick dash to Asda for cheese!

So today wasn't too bad, am feeling exhausted already from entertaining them all the time and fighting Darcie's moods. I think tomorrow we'll have the morning at home as I desperately need to catch up with some washing and maybe a bit of housework if I'm feeling enthusiastic. Probably take them to the local adventure playground in the afternoon to burn off some energy.