Understanding friends...

Sometimes there are occasions in my life where winning the epic title of Mother of the Year award is so far beyond my reach that I should have been born a male...

This week is the first week of the Easter Holidays. This always brings on a test of any parenting skills, but the fact that I started low means that my expectations are not high for the rest of the two weeks.

Our first weekend started with a lazy sunday. We woke up late and I made them a large breakfast. So far so good. This breakfast was so large that I expected to see three young contented boys with swollen bellies lying on the sofa, passing the following hour away dreamily whilst being educated by The Disney Channel.

A proper sunday breakfast therefore you would think, would be followed much later by a proper sunday dinner. Alas it all went downhill from there. The laziness of the day meant that the hobbits ate a Fab ice cream and a packet of Fruit-Tella for lunch and sausage sandwiches for tea. I just couldn't be bothered.

There are days when trying to think of something that combines both a healthy and nutritious balance is completely beyond me, and this was definitely one of those days. To be fair, we didn't quite resort to a McRoast...but it wasn't that far off from a very poor meal.

So, Monday. Fresh start. I was at work and the hobbits were being shipped off, sorry cared for, at a new childcare group. This was their first time as the previous one they had been to was now closed, (Nothing to do with us - honest) and they were going for the whole day.

When I arrived there were other children clambering forward to get onto the bus that would take them to the club, and my three shuffled forward slowly. It was then that I noticed that every other child had a bag on their back. Hmmm, was I supposed to be sending spare clothes in? Were they going swimming? Had I missed an email?
I asked a fellow parent, "Sorry, but can I ask? Was I supposed to be sending in something extra? Spare clothes?"
She looked at me and smiled. She was with two young boys, who looked far smarter than my three, who looked they'd just rolled out of bed into their clothes that they'd left lying on the floor the night before. She really was a super mum.
"Oh, my boys are there for the day. This is their lunch."
I felt myself go a little lightheaded. "Lunch? Was I supposed to send lunch?" I looked panicked at the driver of the minibus who just looked back at me.
"Only if you haven't paid for lunch." Said the mother who my children were now looking longingly at as a potential replacement for their own.
I gulped and looked again at the driver, "I didn't pay for lunch, and I haven't got them any lunch." I said slowly.
Within a few moments we managed to resolve it and the driver reassured me that there was a kitchen at the group, and that the hobbits would indeed eat that day. A part of me was tempted to slip him a tenner and ask him to pop into the garage on the way, however something his voice suggested that wouldn't go down well.

So after saying my goodbyes and driving off, I reflected on the fact that I am a bloody disorganised mother who sent her children off somewhere for 8 hours WITHOUT FOOD! What sort of mother does that? Thankfully hobbits were fed, and no harm was done, however I often wonder how my children do not despair of me and are not more prepared, and make sure they tuck biscuits in their pockets.

My friends were understanding. They also reminded me that until recently the previous childcare club had provided lunch, so that it wasn't such a terrible assumption to make that the new one would do the same. They didn't scold me for being useless and disorganised.

Nevertheless, two days later another friend's son came for the day whilst she herself went to work. They arrived nice and early, cheerful and with scooters for a morning to be spent at the park. Her son would be spending the majority of the day with us and my eldest was looking forward to it.
"I hope he behaves himself," she said as she walked down the path back to her car, "Oh and by the way," she turned back with a smile. "I brought some biscuits for them to share and his lunch...you know, just in case."

Yeah - my friends understand.

How to...

...procrastinate about writing a book...


1) Open computer and attempt to stare at the book in a reasonably intelligent and positive way, that suggests you know what you are doing...i.e. blag.

2) Write down the idea that has been swilling around in your head for the past few days in a random chapter...You have no idea where to put it, but it sounds good - for now.

3) Go back to the first chapter and plead with it to tell you which first chapter version is better...you then realise that perhaps a combination of all three of the current versions could potentially be better and therefore there is now a fourth option.

4) Put Billy Ocean, Red Light Spells Danger on and dance around the kitchen like a woman possessed pretending you're an extra in a Hollywood Blockbuster about single women...

5) Agree with oneself that you need to go back to old fashioned methods for inspiration and rush out to buy really nice writing paper...get home, don't want to deface really nice lined writing paper and just look at it.

6) Make pot noodle and pretend to look through chapters in a effort to remain optimistic about the fact that you have written 'a book'.

7) Search deep within your soul for inspiration and find only an urge for a chocolate digestive...

8) Take a break and check out Facebook...repeat this throughout.

9) Write blog about procrastinating, in order to justify said procrastination...

10) Realise the time wasted today and go pick up kids from school...