STOP!

Five out of six of us down. Only one smiling is S, and as she’s only three and won’t be missing any rocket science classes I’ve kept her home too. But the BH had to soldier on because it’s an important day at work. So I’m home alone with a tribe of misery guts (and one giggle princess).

We have two things happening, some sort of chest infection/cold that has laid claim to R, J, the BH, and me; and then a stomach thing that P, the BH and I have got. I guess that makes us grown ups greedy.

I just about remembered to call ALL the schools (actually I forgot J’s till after nine, but it’s done now) and then my mother called to ask what time we were meeting. Huh?

For the life of me I couldn’t remember what she was talking about. Luckily she writes things down and was able to remind me S has a party this afternoon. Even more lucky is the fact I couldn’t get S to it, and so made arrangements for my mother to cover the event. And she’s still happy to do the running around! She’s also hoping to catch the tummy bug as she’d like to lose a little weight and hasn’t got much planned for the rest of the week. Mad woman, she has no idea what she’s wishing for!

P is in an almighty strop (and I mean ALMIGHTY). All because I asked him to rewrite his homework, and I only did that because his teacher commented (last night at the parents evening) on his lazy handwriting and forgotten capitals. I figured as he wasn’t doing anything else today, rewriting ten sentences shouldn’t be a big deal. And it wouldn’t be for any other child.

In fact, upon reflection, I’m going soft. I remember striking lines through my eldest’s work because it wasn’t neat enough. He was only six, but he didn’t cry or stomp his feet, he just got on with it and remembered for the next time. Why does everything have to be a drama with P?!

Oops, I’ve just shouted at him because he threatened to throw his homework book in the bin! Little git.

(Ten minutes later)

We’ve had a talk. Choices were discussed along with future employment opportunities and what he may want from life. It turns out he doesn’t want to get married (I have no idea why) but he does want a nice house, holidays and kids. He now understands I can’t give him these things, and that he shall have to earn them for himself through hard work. And it begins now, with the small stuff.

So far so good! He’s shown me his first two sentences (he’s sitting at the desk beside me) and is full of smiles and pride.

Yay for me! And him! (Can you tell I’m on medication today?)