First of all our internet & home phone went down which meant The Husband absolutely had to stay away Tuesday night because he can't cope with less ways of work to contact him and me moaning about how I can't blog. I worked out that I clocked up over 36 hours of being left alone with the children and because I had no internet & home phone, I actually had to talk to them. So I'm hoping that's given me a week free of special love as a reward.
What kept me going was that I was soon getting The Day Off. Once I worked out what this meant, I was very very excited. You see I have a friend's nanny who is going to take The Toddler one day a week with a view to me getting some 'Claire' time. This meaning housework but for now I'm pretending it means Loose Women and Milton Keynes shops. Ever since the arrangement was made a few weeks ago, the promise of The Day Off has helped me get through the demands, the hissy fits and general groundhog-day life with the children.
However then came The Episode which happened two days ago. I took The Toddler to the nanny for a 'trial' run - this being making sure he didn't have a total meltdown over being parted from me for more than one minute. He showed no signs of losing it so I made my getaway, only for something strange to happen, something very strange indeed. I got in the car to go home and was struck by an overwhelming feeling of Separation Anxiety. After sixteen months of trying to get rid of The Toddler, I completely PANICKED over the prospect of not having him with me. I had no idea what to do. Going back to fetch him was not an option as I didn't want to be seen as A Pathetic Mum. I'm already pretty rubbish at motherhood that I don't need another disorder. And calling The Husband was utterly forbidden - when he saw it was me, he would send me straight-to-voicemail and the idea of crying into his messages was not appealing. So I did the only thing I could think of - went straight to the shop to buy this week's Heat magazine. You will be relieved to hear that after intense therapy back home, with my feet up, no children and two hours of celebrity gossip, I soon recovered from The Episode.
Which brings me to yesterday. The Eldest One had gone to a mates which meant I only had two children at home. And I did what I always do - invite someone who has children over for tea. Thus ensuring that there are at least double the amount of kids in the house that I actually need. It was all going swimmingly well and I was actually managing some Adult Conversation, when The Tomboy fell over and cut her head. It was an annoying interruption until I realised she was bleeding, forcing me to switch into Good Mother Mode, which believe me isn't that easy. Her cut looked pretty bad and my friend, who equally transformed into A Grown Up, advised that I go to A&E.
This was a big turning point for me as The Tomboy's mum. Not only did I keep calm and responsibly deal with the situation, I also took her out in public dressed in a football shirt and her brother's army shorts. It crossed my mind to get her changed into reasonable attire, but in all the panic I forgot to grab a bag of emergency clothing. It's not that she dresses like a boy that bothers me, it's that other mothers might think I actually dress my daughter like that. So I only ever allow her strong sense of individuality to be practiced in the privacy of home. She's either very cool or very weird.
So a huge amount of glue and cuddles later, I am home and coming to terms with the fact that the doctor has suggested she doesn't go to school the next day. Which wouldn't normally be too much of a problem (honestly), except tomorrow is The Day Off.
Then The Eldest One walked in. A quick look at the cut on The Tomboy's head plus the red-stained tissues all around the house and The Eldest One's manic phobia about blood kicked in and within five seconds he is throwing up all over the kitchen floor. And any vomiting, no matter what the cause, means an instant no-no for school the next day.
So here I am. On The Day Off. Forcing The Eldest One and The Tomboy to watch hours upon hours of tv while I write my blog. There's nothing wrong with either of them. They are ok enough to be full of demands & arguments & fighting, aren't they? I've still managed to package The Toddler off to the nanny but, boy, am I paying the price.
I'm coping okay but did have a quick moan to The Husband earlier. His response? A philosophical theory which has made me feel sooooo much better about me losing The Day Off - "It's only a day, isn't it? What's the big deal??".