It is still the Easter school holidays and with a mountain of housework and decluttering to tackle, I am attempting a day in with my children.
Are you one of those people who sees deep meaning in apparently innocuous events? I knew the day would be chaotic when I found my labrador puppy emptying the contents of my kitchen bin. I could so easily pretend I had not seen it. Instead, I tackle it and wonder why I agreed to have a puppy in the house. I swear it was a response to grief as the puppy was born a few weeks after my mum died last September. And then I just swear!
I then realise that although having my new slowcooker is great in terms of planning the evening's meal early in the day when I still have some modicum of energy, I really should remember to empty it! What was once a lovely casserole is now turning a lovely shade of green! I am definitely not housewife material!
Spend the morning working through various mountain ranges of washing piles. Actually succeed in seeing the kitchen floor again.
Enter the lounge to see my puppy juggling fake lumps of coal from my "oh so designer" fireplace. Is there no end to the ways he can find to create yet more work for me? Just like with the children, you wipe up one mess only to spot another one lurking and preventing the essential caffeine fix. Can't even comfort eat now that I have put myself of a healthy eating regime. Tomatoes are as yumsville as dumplings and prawns although lovely do not have the same therapeutic qualities as cheesecake.
At this point, my son asks me if there is any good news? Now whilst I normally encourage his sense of irony, is he just taking the piss?
My 6 year old daughter then tells me that television phone-in competitions would be better if they did not give you the answers because then you could make the answers up and that would be so much more interesting. She has a quirky way of looking at the world that appeals to me.
My 4 year old then tells me he has a broken leg. This is a regular statement from a very dramatic little boy who must be destined for the stage.
Other half turns up to collect his post and keeps saying "Are you OK? What's up?" As if I have the energy for a conversation at this point.
Sanity comes in a telephone conversation with my 82 year old father currently caravanning in Kent and planning his booze cruise to France at the weekend. With parents like mine, I must be destined for success one day and then I can pay a housekeeper and write all day long.