The highs and lows of potty training

High: Telling you he needs a wee/poo before doing a wee/poo
Low: Telling you he needs a wee/poo as he does a wee/poo on your foot

High: Getting all the wee/poo in the potty
Low: Spilling all the wee/poo over floor whilst trying to dispose of it in the toilet

High: Saving a fiver a week on nappies and spending it on wine
Low: Needing at least a bottle of wine a night to de-stress

High: How potty training promotes his independence
Low: How he shuts the bathroom door on you

High: Choosing big boy pants
Low: Throwing away big boy pants rather than deal with poo accidents

High: His look of self congratulation on his face when he 'makes' it
Low: His look of concentration on his face whilst performing

High: Giving you advance warning that he wants a wee/poo
Low: Repeatedly giving you advance warning that he might want a wee/poo between the hours of 2.00am and 4.00am

High: Holding on till you can get to a public convenience whilst out shopping
Low: Paying 20p to get into public convenience for it to be a false alarm

High: Not needing to take nappies, wipes and nappy sacks out with you anymore
Low: Needing to take 3 changes of clothes, a roll of bin bags and a potty everywhere you go for the next month

High: He has progressed to doing poos on the potty
Low: He takes a comic into the toilet with him

High: He is potty trained
Low: But where has my baby gone :-(

Terrible Twosday

 or How to drive your Mummy insane in 3 easy steps.

Step one (Night-time):

Wake up in the middle of the night screaming "Mummy, come on" like I've been keeping you waiting or something.
"Carry Me, carry me carry mecarrymeCARRYME!" etc.
Lie across the bed on between your parents using Mummy's head as a pillow and Daddy's head as a foot rest whilst dreaming about running a marathon.

Step Two (Morning):

Wake up late and in a bad mood, thus throwing the morning (finely tuned) routine out the window, into the rain, into the path of several fast moving vehicles who fail to stop and leave any attempt to revive the routine as likely as drying your washing outside this summer.
Insist that sweets for breakfast is perfectly acceptable and all young people should consider this as their diet of choice forever more.
Sabotage all creative crafty activities with wild sweeping movements of the arms and hands, defying previously accepted laws of nature relating to length of arms relative to age and body size, and deftly launching the (open) glitter pot ceiling-ward.

Step Three (Afternoon):

Build a tower with your sandwiches, expertly recreating the leaning tower of Pisa in the year 2045 (estimated) five seconds before it finally topples over.
Throw a tantrum in the library when it is suggested that Alien is an inappropriate film choice, by whipping all the DVDs off a shelf and then shuffling them as I fruitlessly attempt to return them to the shelf in alphabetical order.
Fall asleep precisely 5 minutes before tea-time.


Is it just me? Did I fail the terrible twos exam? What's been your worst terrible twos day?

Appraisal

You'd think that after 7 years I should have had an appraisal by now.

I mean, I took the job, without any qualifications, no trial period, no clear objectives and only the basic rudimentary training. Initially I was happy just to get through a day without being found out and given a written warning. I wasn't sure how many strikes I would get before I was out, but there was always that uncertainty hanging over my head, waiting to be tripped up by something unexpected or really random.

The infuriating thing is I didn't really have a boss, no line manager to report to, get a bit of coaching from or reassurance that I was on the right track. I would have to stumble through the day, trying to work out for myself what the priorities were and whether they were going to change at any minute. What was I thinking, taking this job on?

I may have been sold on the job description (abbreviated edition), where you get unconditional rewards, annual bonuses and job satisfaction. What wasn't explicit were the key responsibilities, the working hours, the thankless tasks, the repetitive jobs that sap every ounce of patience from your soul.

After a throwaway comment to the Mr where I failed to have a washed and ironed duvet cover for the Princess, "So sack me", I decided it was about time I was appraised in my position as Parent. In order to do this however I require objectives. Having no boss to write these for me I have (albeit after the event) written my own, thus:

1. Feed them when they are hungry
2. Spend  more time with them than blogging/on twitter.
3. Wipe their bums and noses.
4. Count to 10 before screaming at them for their misdemeanors.
5. Wrap them in love.

And here's where I have to be very honest and give myself an appraisal, remembering to be constructive in any/all criticism.

1. I feed them. I provide food on plates 3 times a day. I provide food out of packets and biscuit tins at what feels like 30 minute intervals between the 3 plate full of food. I provide sustenance contained in either a coffee cup or a tall glass for myself as required. So far they have grown, judging by the rate at which clothes need to be provided, and only complain of being hungry 15 times a day. Result: Satisfactory.
2. This was a no brainer with the first child. Twitter wasn't even invented yet and I didn't know a blog from a bog. With the second child I was blissfully ignorant of social media. So result: Outstanding. But then came the Wee One, and *ahem* twitter started winking at me, and then I was told I could write and I should start a blog. So technically you could say I was led astray. Current result: when the kids are awake I am hitting a good average in their favour. And when the kids are asleep, well the Mr is neglected but he isn't part of the objective so I still score!
3. Noses are clean and bums are sparkling. This is one objective I can say I have absolutely achieved. I should have shares in baby wipes and kleenex. Admittedly the younger model is still reliant on nappies but potty training is one of my short term goals. Result: Outstanding.
4. Hmmm. Patience. Actually, I am quite glad I haven't been appraised on this objective until now. It is a skill that has taken a considerable amount of time to master. Initially I felt this objective was completely irrelevant, and then the sweet innocent little bundles grew up a bit and suddenly it seemed the most relevant. I have had considerable practice and it is starting to come a little easier now. Result: Satisfactory  but do not become complacent.
5. Yes. That. And a bit more. Consider them smothered. Although that may not be good. Breathing should be an objective too, shouldn't it? Result: Outstanding.

So do I get a promotion? No. Never. Whatever happens, and however long it takes, I'm always going to be their mother and I can't be sacked, no matter how bad a job I'm doing.

If you had to give yourself objectives, what would they be? And, how do you fare against them?

Sod's Law And Some Of His Friends

Dilbert's Principle - Scott Adams

You know when you say something and then you have to kick yourself (hard) because, by saying it out loud, fate will hear and then come crashing down and rain on your parade (if fate could rain) the day after you left your umbrella on the bus. That. Aka Sod's Law, not to be confused with Murphy's Law where if something can go wrong it will.

Most of these instances inevitably involve children. This sort of thing: 

• While they are quiet I'll just... *tea gets cold. again*
• Don't run around in your socks. You'll...  *wheeee..THUD*
• Be careful. Don't drop it. *CRAAAAASH*
• Oh he'll eat anything. *except what you are giving us for lunch*
• So you are absolutely sure you don't need a wee. *Does the wee jiggle after queuing in post office for 30 minutes*

Then there are the ones that cannot be blamed on the ankle biters much as we would like to blame them.

• I know the fuel light is on but we're only going a couple of miles. *Repeat for every subsequent car journey until fuel runs out in Waitrose car park*
• We don't need these receipts do we? *shred receipt for new shredder as it self combusts*
• There's no need to set the alarm. The Wee One always wakes us up. *except this morning*
• I won't buy it now. They have loads of them. *Sells out in 30 minutes*
• I'll buy it now. *50% off the next day*

Just for a laugh and because I didn't know, I googled Sod's Law to see if I could find out who Sod was. I didn't but I am easily distracted. Instead I found a fascinating list of eponymous laws on wikipedia.

I have a few highlights (because many of them are dull as a very dull thing that lives on a dull street on a very dull day). Having said that, if you even have the remotest interest in anything scientific, the list could keep your scientific juices flowing for days.

• Amara's law – "We tend to overestimate the effect of a technology in the short run and underestimate the effect in the long run."
• Dilbert principle – Coined by Scott Adams as a variation of the Peter Principle of employee advancement. Named after Adams' Dilbert comic strip, it proposes that "the most ineffective workers are systematically moved to the place where they can do the least damage: management."
• Dunbar's number – A theoretical cognitive limit to the number of people with whom one can maintain stable social relationships. No precise value has been proposed for Dunbar's number, but a commonly cited approximation is 150. First proposed by British anthropologist Robin Dunbar.
• Littlewood's law – States that individuals can expect miracles to happen to them, at the rate of about one per month. Coined by Professor J E Littlewood, (1885–1977).
• Muphry's law – "If you write anything criticizing editing or proofreading, there will be a fault of some kind in what you have written." The editorial equivalent of Murphy's law, according to John Bangsund.
• Parkinson's law – "Work expands so as to fill the time available for its completion." Coined by C. Northcote Parkinson (1909–1993), who also coined its corollary, "Expenditure rises to meet income." In computers: Programs expand to fill all available memory.
• Rothbard's law – Everyone specializes in his own area of weakness.
• Sturgeon's law – "Ninety percent of everything is crud." Derived from a quote by science fiction author Theodore Sturgeon (1918–1985).
• Wirth's law – Software gets slower faster than hardware gets faster.

This got me thinking...

If a law was to be named after you, what would that law be? Tricky I know but to get you started here is mine (it could equally apply to any parent).

Mrs Five's Law - "The quieter the child in the next room, the larger the repair bill."

x

10 ways to start a war before breakfast

It's half term which can only mean one thing, frayed tempers!

And it doesn't take long for a temper to fray, in fact any time between waking and breakfast would do.

Wouldn't life be dull if there were no shouting or screaming between siblings. Heaven forbid. So just in case you are in danger of having a peaceful half term, here are my top 10 ways to start a war before breakfast.

1. Enter the room.
2. Try to brush their hair.
3. Ask them to do something. Anything.
4. Allow one child into bed with you.
5. Encourage them to brush their teeth.
6. Suggest that they might want to get dressed.
7. Ask what they would like to do today.
8. Offer one child something different to the others. Superior or inferior, it really doesn't matter.
9. Offer a choice of coloured cups. 
10. Fail to purchase a reserve box of cereal when you are down to one serving left in the packet.

Enjoy your half term.

Saturday is Caption Day

This picture really had me smiling this week so it seemed a perfect shot to use for Caption Saturday!

All you have to do is scratch your brain and come up with a clever, funny, witty or just simply amusing caption that fits this photo and then comment on this post.

I will review your entries and deem one of you the cleverest, funniest, wittiest and most amusingest and award you a confectionery pig. I will even eat it in your honour.

Can you think of a funny caption for this?

Insert caption here!

Now head over to Mammasaurus for more Caption Saturday fun!

Bed Hopping - The Family Edition

There were 5 in the bed and the little one said...

Hmm. I thought bed hopping might get your attention!


But this is a family blog and I refer to the nightly maneuvers of squeezing 5 people and a dog into a 3 bedroom house.

Fortunately for me the dog has long since been banished to the kitchen in her indoor kennel. It doesn't quite stop her hopping through to the sitting room and getting nice and comfortable on the sofa, even to the point of resting her tired weary head on a perfectly plumped cushion. Bless.

But back to the remaining 5 bodies that have to share 3 bedrooms.

Well me and the Mr are perfectly comfortable thankyou. Nuff said.

Although a standard double bed is sometimes required to accomodate 3 bodies when a nightmare or just sheer stubborness prevail. Clinging to the edge of the bed while a small person does a starfish impression in the middle does nothing for my bad back. Nor does the stupidly expensive and ineffective memory foam mattress. But I digress.

Two of my children have to share a bedroom, which is nothing unusual I know. The two who share are the boys, the Big one who is rapidly approaching 7 and the wee one who is 20 months old.

The difficulty I have is that if the Wee One is not asleep before the Big One gets into bed I have at least an hour of shouting, screaming, laughing and chatting from the Wee One which does nothing to aid the Big One to sleep.

What do I do?

The Big One is a grump when he doesn't get at least 11 hours sleep.
The Wee One is a grump if he doesn't get at least 12 hours sleep.

They are both grumpy!!

I need to let the Wee One settle himself or I know from bitter experience I will spend hours trying to settle him myself. If I let the Big One go to sleep in my bed and then move him later he still has a disturbed night. If I wait till the Wee One is asleep before the Big One goes to bed he will be knackered.

I know I need to ration the Wee One's afternoon kip which is being actioned forthwith.

But what worries me is what happens in years to come?
Big One has homework versus Wee One playing.
Wee One needs a nap but Big One wants to play in his room.
Big One wants to read in bed but Wee One can't.

I know the simple solution is to build an extension but while I whittle a few bricks from the quarry, what do I do in the meantime?

I would love to know how you have coped with room sharing, what problems have you had and how did you overcome them?

This post is joining in with PinkOddy's Blog Thursday's Thought Meme. Join the debate!

My Interrupted Life

photo credit: mycatisgay.tumblr.com

My Interrupted Life

I wish I could be solitary

just for a minute or three

to privately

go wee.

I wish I could drink my coffee

before its cold completely.

Hot and frothy,

milky.

I wish I could watch daytime news.

But I don't want to lose

the innocent view

you're due.

I wish I could read a story.

No children on my knee

demandingly

happy.

I wish I could sleep a whole night.

No first annoying sight.

No chink of light,

or fright

I wish I could chat on the phone

without the nagging drone

of a child prone

alone.

I wish I could complete something,

finish without juggling

and dropping

a thing.

When you're grown I'll get my wish.

Home alone and you I'll miss.

No goodbye kiss.

No bliss.

This is my contribution to The Writing Workshop and the prompt "I wish" from Sleep is for the Weak

How not to have a perfect family afternoon on the beach, and other helpful holiday tips.

Rarely do I feel the red-faced burning embarassment that I felt recently on Brancaster Beach.

The last time was on a return flight from Barcelona with the Big One at about 6 months old. He started screaming as soon as the fasten seat belt sign was illuminated. I assumed it was a reaction to changing air pressure, and having read the books, I knew the best thing to do was feed him. I tried a bottle at first which he had just started taking, but when his thrashing about became a little too violent, I switched to breast foolishly believing he would settle down. Several bruises and bite wounds later a fellow passenger offered boiled sweets.

Erm, thanks but he is a bit too young.

As we landed, he quietened down nuzzling against my neck ready for a little doze. Great timing buddy. Have you ever tried to get out of a plane holding a baby whilst trying not to wake him? Screaming all through baggage claim and to the bus stop to get our car was the longest walk ever. Again he just settled down as we were about to get on the bus. Predictably the screaming started again.

At this point I was beyond embarrassment. Or so I thought. A lady on the bus said, "Were you just on the Barcelona flight?" A weak nod from me. "Yes, I thought I recognised the screaming." Cringe.

So to Brancaster.

As we got out the car with all the bags, wind breaks, towels, buckets, spades, fishing nets, picnic, I asked, "Does anyone need the loo?"

Having spotted the toilets just by the car park and knowing we would have a trek to find somewhere to sit I thought it would be a good idea to get that little job out of the way.

"No"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes"
"Really sure?"
"YES ALREADY"
"Okay".

A 15 minute hike later we settle down and start erecting wind breaks, laying picnic blankets, unpacking picnic and the Big One says, (you so know what's coming dont you?) "I need a wee".

"*^%$"***"
"Okay, Come on." Pauses for a second.
"Princess, you come too because I don't want to have to take you in 10 minutes."
"No"
"Yes, come on. You can play when we get back."
"No"
"Now come on. You must need to go and it wont take long."

I should have conceeded but my blood was already boiling because the Big One should have gone before, so I stupidly (stubbornly) decided that the Princess was going to the toilet and nothing, but nothing, was going to stop that happening.

"Come on. You are coming with me."
"No"
"Yes"
"No"

I took her hand and tried to steer her in the right direction.

"NOOOOOOO"

At this point I remembered how easily sound travels across that beach. Glancing at other families nearby, I realised we were fast becoming a spectacle.

"Princess. Come with me now."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Considering what would be more embarrassing and making the wrong decision, I passed the opportunity of giving in and looking like a mother who had no control over her children, to instead, looking like a screaming fishwife Mother who had no control over her children. I physically picked her up, and yes, she was upside down for a little bit, and manhandled her across several hundred yards of peaceful, playful, family smothered beach with her screaming all the way. Yes heads turned, fingers were pointed and visions of social services turning up were at the forefront of my mind. I prayed she would actually scream "No MUMMY" so that observers would know that I wasn't abducting a little girl from the beach.

And no, she didn't have a wee when we got there.


On the way back, we passed another family. They were sipping Rose wine from glasses. They were playing boules. They were running through the shallow water laughing and splashing. They were the perfect Boden family. I was expecting the director to step out and say "Can we try that again, ladies and gentlemen" and makeup ladies and hairdressers would step out and adjust their perfectly tousled sun-bleached blonde hair and I wanted to weep. George and Henry and Fruitella and Nutella (as I christened them) wouldn't scream or shout or stamp their feet or embarrass Mama or Papa. I studied my feet on the walk back to our spot.

The next spectacle (you didn't honestly think there would be only one did you?) was trying to invite/cajol the Wee One out of the water having failed to dress him appropriately in anything even remotely resembling beach attire. His nornal nappy swelled to the size of a small infaltable whale, his shorts drooped sorrowfully round his ankles and his t-shirt would be best thrown in the bin. Much screaming later (and I mean much, like 15 minutes of full on toddler tantrum on a quiet beach so the sound is magnified 10 fold) we undressed him and partially reclothed him just a sweatshirt lest he should suffer hypothermia.

I hid behind the windbreak shamefaced and mortified at how loud and screamy my family was, wondering how we had got to this stage? Repentent and stunned at my stupidity for being so darn stubborn, I vowed to relax and let the urchins run and be free and if they needed a wee, well so be it. If they ran into the water fully clothed, to provide warm clothing only when their lips went blue.

And then the Wee One did a poo, on the sand, in front of the Boden catalogue family. And I shreaked (out loud) "Oh no, he's having a sh*t".

We went home soon after.

And if you happened to be there, sorry for disturbing your afternoon.

The Great School Holiday Challenge Week 2

Survived another week of the Great School Holiday Challenge. Yes I did need gin round about, oh Saturday night so not bad all things considered!

I interrupt this post to point out that I am not alcohol dependent. Just saying.

Day 8: To Beans Coffee Shop to try to rid my fuddled brain of it's sleep starved state. One Maltesers milkshake and waffle later. Semi-normal service was resumed.

Hit the library and lost (then found) one of Wee One's shoe. "I'm Bored" jar came out today and the Big One picked 'Make a picture Frame' and Princess got 'Paint your toes'. Much cutting of cardboard, hoovering up of glitter, wiping paint off floorboards and painty footprints off tiles later, I started to consider the possibility that some of the 'I'm Bored' suggestions may be a little ambitious :-/

Day 9: Nature trail on Stamford Meadows. Duly printed naturedetectives.com spotters sheets and we were off. Discovered Stamford's Spa, caught (and released) butterflies (unharmed, I think), lost Misty Moo in the stinging nettles (do dogs feel stinging nettles?). I had bigger ideas than the children had attention span for, so we also picked a few flowers from the back garden to press.

Day 10: Is it only Monday? Bribed kids to help me hoover and dust. To be perfectly honest, their help, although valiant, was to very little effect. Changed beds. Lost Princess inside a duvet cover. Walked dog. I was so bored, I reached for the "I'm Bored" jar! So we had salt dough modelling, badminton in the garden, finger painting (I couldn't believe it was the first time that the Wee One and paint had been introduced. Result - messy) and made courgette muffins for tea.

Day 11: Daddy's home! And so to Burghley Garden's of Surprise. A FANTASTIC afternoon was had by all in lovely sunshine. The Gardens are awesome and well worth a vsiit if you happen to be passing Stamford. A separate post on this one for sure. And something ticked off the Challenge list -yay!

Day 12: Mum's gone to ... Ikea! Yep. Another fail as far as the Challenge list is concerned but who can resist hot dogs and Daims. Well you could have knocked me down with a bite size Daim... if you could have found one! There weren't any Daims to be had. Sooooo, hot dogs, plastic beakers, paper napkins, glass tumblers, step stools x2, groovy rug, cuddly rats (?) x2, filter coffee x3 and Pear Cider (yes, I know. Who knew?). A successful trip I'd say. And we managed to miss the freak thunder storm.

Day 13: Princess to nursery and the Big One invited to a soft play place. Result! Me and the Wee One went to Tesco to buy the bits that I forgot in Ikea, namely wine glasses, muffin tin and crafty bits. So I should have been making muffins while the children made a lovely picture for me. The children did indeed use their new metallic pens to do some rather impressive colouring (I'm biased) but I got sucked into twitter and only emerged to cook tea. I blame myself for having started this process probably 30 minutes later than a mother who had been paying more attention to her children would have judged as ideal. Soooo, teatime hell commenced. Damn you twitter!

Day 14: The end of another week. Two down, four to go (not that I am counting). Misty Moo needs a walk every day. The children need to get out of the house everyday. The result is daily dog walking monotony with 3 children in tow. However, today, cunning Supermum pulled it out of the bag. Oh yes. I give you Dog Walking BINGO. Here's what I rustled up over breakfast. (Top left is a map and bottom right is a duck. I do not claim to have any artistic talent.)

So simple. Get the kids spotting things on their walk. What do points make? Prizes. Yes folks, bribery was involved as were sweets but mission dog walk was successful. Oh and we played cricket in the park too. Oh and built a rocket, as you do.

Until next week x

A Mother's CV

You've probably worked at some point in your life, if not your whole adult life and you've probably got a CV (resume for anyone the other side of the pond).

What's on it? Nosey aren't I?

Mine has followed a career path in retail and strategy with a couple of High Street stores and a large global brand. The purpose of this post isn't to brag or tout for a new job (although that had crossed my mind). What I want to illustrate is that it is in the last 6 years that my CV would make the most interesting and diverse reading. It is no coincidence that The Big One is 6 years old.

So in a useful A-Z format a list of my career 'choices' in the last 6 years.


A is for Art Critic - Constructive criticism even though you have absolutely no idea what it is supposed to be.
B is for Barista - Well you have to take a coffee break right?
C is for Cook - Chef would be far too grand a word for beans on toast.
D is for Dictionary - A walking talking a to z of all those important words like 'tyrannosaurus' and 'bulldozer'.
E is for Entertainer - Not quite Britains Got Talent standard but a passable clown act.
F is for Friend - One that is easily forgotten in the disarray.
G is for Goalkeeper - Sometimes in the garden with a football and sometimes at the dinner table with roast potatoes.
H is for Hairdresser - Never thought I would have to master a french plait.
I is for Image Consultant - That pink t-shirt with those red jeans?
J is for Judge - All the evidence could be circumstantial of course.
K is for Knitter - Well I have needles and wool. Just need a few extra hours in the day.
L is for Librarian - Alphabetised or colour coordinated bookshelves?
M is for Mother - I wish it was that simple.
N is for Nurse - Administer of Calpol and plasters but really not very good with blood.
O is for Occupational Therapist - Who knew that cereal boxes and toilet rolls had so many uses?
P is for Psychologist - Just trying to work out what is happening between those 2 ears.
Q is for Quantum Physicist - A part time hobby you understand.
R is for Referee - Oh for a whistle and a red card.
S is for Story-teller - Although the number of times I've read the same book they should be able to recite it for themselves, surely.
T is for Teacher - Just got to keep one chapter ahead in the text book.
U is for Upcycler - Have you seen my post about the Butterfly Garland?
V is for Volunteer - So helpful when you find out your child has offered your assistance at the school fair.
W is for Washerwoman - What the? Which century are we in?
X is for Xtreme Housewifery - Bugger that. Who's for gin?
Y is for Youth Worker - For the days when they think they are teenagers.
Z is for Zoologist - Worm farms and tadpole tanks - blurgh!

I'm exhausted and the most over qualified housekeeper ever!

So what would you have on your CV?

"A woman wears many hats in one lifetime, why shouldn't one of them be a crown?"
Annie Jones

Cracked It!

photo credit: The Guardian

It's only taken me 3 children and six years but I have finally cracked it!

What? What? I hear you ask.

Well, let me explain. Since The Big One was able to articulate his constant need for food, he has been doing just that.

Initially it would be in the form of "Whhahhh". Then came the "ugh ugh" stage. "More" soon followed and at some point manners were beaten in to him encouraged and we got "More please".

The premature milestone of teenage years (at the ripe old age of 5) gave us "I'm hungry" in a very long drawn out voice with pathetic intonations. Helpfully this was precisely the age when Princess started speaking and very quickly, looking adoringly up at her older, wiser brother, she too learnt to say "I'm hungry".

In itself none of this is really a problem. But when it's on a loop, all day, every day, often within minutes of finishing a meal, it does start to get slightly irksome. Alright, damn annoying.

But, today, at precisely 12.00 I sussed it. No more (okay, maybe less often) will I hear the "I'm hungry" cry.

How?

Simples. Feed them :-)

That is, feed them before they start whining.

At 10.30 this morning I popped into the newsagent and anticipating the "I'm hungry" (read: I am absolutely hypnotised by this splendid array of confectionery and I will self combust if I am not allowed to sample its delights) I bought them a chupa chups each thereby avoiding spending £1.20 on a couple of packets of smarties and instead parting with 24p. *punches air*

At 12.00, noticing a slight air of irritability, I forged ahead and prepared a platter of fine sandwiches, olives  and crisps with a side dish of silent praise.

And at 13.00 noticing that noone had asked for any pudding (a meal ritual even after breakfast) I produced fresh apricots that got smiles all round.

So the scores on the doors today are:

Kids: nil point - Mummy: she rocks.

I thank you x