Secret Diary copy 27/7/01

[Guest guest]

Three days down, only another 39 to go. OH NO! Its 40 days ; the

letter that came home mashed into the contents of Emma's lunchbox

announces that the first day of next term is an inset day. For

goodness sake, don't they realise that parents are suffering here?

Did I say I was looking forward to the holidays? I must have had my

rose tinted glasses on again. I had visions of lie-ins followed by my

children playing nicely while I lounged in the garden.

It was OK for the first day. I even got my long anticipated lie-in.

But Kieran has now decided that as he doesn't have to get up and go to

school that 6 am is a good time to get up and play his video games.

Which would not be a problem as he is very competent in making his own

breakfasts (loyal readers will remember that he requires at least two

bowls of cereal and a piece of toast before he considers himself full)

and he generally remembers to turn the sound down. However he has

inherited my tendancy to scream, curse and strop if the machine is

beating him and his tortured wails and thumping of walls soon has the

rest of the house, if not the street, awake.

I could just about sleep through the game playing tantrums were it not

for Carys who wakes up and either goes downstairs to wind Kieran up,

resulting in a fist fight or comes into me to demand cuddles. As she

is the world's wriggliest child this ensures that I get up and face

the day an hour earlier than I would on a school morning.

By 10 am Kieran and Carys have exahausted all possible games and toys

and are climbing the walls with boredom, so much for them playing

nicely while I lounge around!

Meanwhile, Emma slumbers on. I am assured by parents of teenagers

that things can only get worse but it takes repeated shouting,

cajoling and threatening of dire consequences to get her out of bed.

If I have planned a day out she is reasonably good about getting

dressed and ready to go.

If she is in an exceptionally good mood she will even get Carys

dressed for me. However if there is no day trip she mooches around

giving a good impression of a zombie and monopolising the phone until

the door knocker goes. Then there is a whirl of activity, clothes,

hairbrush and shoes get roughly applied to the right bits and then

there's a shout of " I'm g'nout! " followed by the door slamming.

Out where? With whom? For how long? I sprint for the door, no mean

feat at my age and size, to extract the relevant information.

Otherwise when I decide to stop Kieran and Carys from dismembering

each other I can't take them out because I don't know where big

sister is. Worse, she's usually put the phone down somewhere so I can'

t do a ring round the neighbourhood and have to trail round looking

for her. I'm seriously thinking of issuing her with an electronic tag.

However, even without one I will usually find the house that her

gaggle of friends have invaded for the morning. This is evident by

the harried looking parent outside mowing grass or cleaning the car

just to get away from them all. I'm glad I'm not the only one denied

a spot of lounging!

Eventually, someone will end up volunteering to lead a mass expedition

of half the neighbourhood's children to the park. What a sad society

our children are growing up in, that they can't safely go on their

own.

On the other hand a handy booklet also discovered at the bottom of

Emma's lunch box reveals an enormous amount of activities available in

the local sports centres. Trampolining, football, arts and crafts -

the list is endless. I can see some potential for garden lounging

here...where's the phone? EMMAAAA!

Lesley

ANT, tr BFC, Mother, Wife, Friend, Mender of Broken Hearts,

Keeper of Secrets, Chauffeur, Cook, Maid, Writer. Overweight, Over

thirty, Over here in Worthing..

" Believing Oneself to be perfect is often the sign of a delusional

mind! " Star Trek.