The Learning Log and The Dog

I fully expect that one day my children will co-author a book entitled "How To Annoy Your Parents: A Step-By-Step Guide".
Chapter One will definitely be about homework. The school have had the brilliant idea of introducing a Learning Log much to the irritation of many parents (well, me). As if managing three crazy kids, a dog, a Husband with a sexual appetite, a messy house and weekly spellings isn't task enough for this mum, they have decided to up the homework.
Now I hate homework at the best of times. The Tweenager finds it a wonderful opportunity to be even more rude to me than normal. The Tomboy thinks it's definitely something to cry about. And The Toddler cannot stand anybody else having his mother's attention so will do anything, and I mean ANYTHING, to get me back.
The school have tricked us into thinking that we are the only educational institution in the UK not to have the Learning Log. They do not know yet that I have asked around and am yet to find another school that have even heard whispers of it.
The Learning Log is supposed to be a wonderful scrapbook of weekly home tasks that the children can be proud of and the parents can participate in. It is supposed to bring JOY. What they haven't taken into account is my children and a mother who loses it when the children don't listen.
The Tweenager, who is great at literacy, loses all capacity to use capital letters, full stops and spell any word longer than three letters. Our joint experience of the Learning Log usually lasts about six minutes before all hell breaks loose. I sit down thinking how nice to spend time with each other on a project and end up close to slitting my wrists.
The Tomboy is slightly better but wants to draw pictures of footballers even if the topic is How To Make Bread. She usually ends up scribbling all over the page and blaming it on The Dog.
The Toddler upon sight of the Learning Log has been known to, in no particular order - throw himself on the floor, bash his head against the radiator, take his nappy off after pooing, threaten us with anything sharp and try to make himself sick.
Oh yes, the Learning Log is bringing us great joy.
I'm just wondering if the excuse of "The Dog Ate My Homework" still works these days.

Turning Cure Into Cult

Alas I am not going to write about The Cure (Boys don't cry) or The Cult (She sells sanctuary) although by saying that I am showing that I still have an ounce of cool about me.
I am just going to bleat on for a moment about Ministry Of Mum and if the fact that it helps my shrivelled brain is enough. I am thinking about turning it into a Cult like Scientology or The Community Of The Phoenix (if you watch Ugly Betty you'll get that joke) because I need to make some money.
I was having a little moan about The Husband last week to a friend and he said "Mmmm you're all right living off him though, aren't you?" and I was shocked. Shocked because it's true and shocked because I realised that not having my own money is crap. Occasionally The Husband will ask me where the money has gone that he has given me for the month. He thinks I spend it in Cafe Rouge and New Look. So I have been writing a list for when that question comes up again. This is what I will answer: gym fees, dog food, school dinners, washing powder, riding lessons, sweets, nappies, petrol, beavers subs, milk, birthday pressies. Not one mention of a new frock or cappuccino, is there?
I am desperate for my own money although I don't particularly want a job. So I've been thinking of ways I can make some dosh from my blog and I've come up with the idea of expanding my blog into a Cult - The Church Of Ministry Of Mum. I am happy to be the authoritarian, charismatic leader as long as I am paid.
So here is the Ethos:
Meetings round my house, no kiddies allowed.
Gin & tonics provided with nibbles.
Moaning encouraged.
Be honest about your role as a parent.
Do not judge especially when someone admits they "lost it" with the children.
Respect each other and understand that we once had a life.
A small subscription fee will do, as long as collectively it pays for my winter wardrobe.
Promise we won't blow things up or kill people (no matter how trying our Husbands are).
Make sure we all snog the face off any male celebrity who joins (preferably Tom Cruise).

Are you brainwashed yet? Hope so. I've got my eye on those biker Ugg boots.

Happy Days

Oh I forgot to mention that I put the kids to bed at 5 o'clock the other day. The Tomboy said "Stupid Mummy" about seven thousand times and The Tweenager was refusing to do his spellings. They were both being what can only be described as Absolutely Bloody Revolting, so I put them to bed. And don't give me that Supernanny bulls**t about taking toys off them, naughty step etc etc because IT DOESN'T WORK. Well, on my kids anyway. They don't give a monkeys about anything enough for it to be taken away and their behaviour to change. I even took away everything The Tomboy owns from her bedroom but she didn't care. So I put them to bed.
I allowed them back downstairs at 5.30pm for dinner and they so thought they'd got away with it. Imagine their surprise when they finished eating and I said "Right, that's back to bed again now thank you!".
It seemed to work as punishment because they hated it. But the mistake I made was forgetting to forewarn The Husband, who came bouncing in at seven with the bright idea of them all taking the dog for a walk to the shop to get sweets. And The Husband at home time always supersedes The Mum who has been dealing with the crap for the past two hours.


Anyway, The Husband has officially been off now for two days and, believe it or not, everything is still working in the world - there has been no big bang or millennium crash. He is doing his two favourite things 1) Jobs In The Garden 2) Going To The Tip, in between taking conference calls and receiving emails.
Of course he has been getting on my nerves.
Yesterday, for example, he had to measure some curtains for me while I was in the shop ready to buy. He knew they were for The Tomboy's room but did a completely different window so when I brought them home, they were totally the wrong size. This might seem of little importance, but in my rock n roll life it was a Big Deal and utterly warranted my anger. (Ah did I mention that I am finally allowing The Tomboy to have a football bedroom - it's goodbye everything pink and pretty).

The Husband says that the time he spends working on his days off is nothing compared to the amount of hours I spend speaking to my friends.
I say work is his only friend.

So I have been doing things without The Toddler like getting an eye test and power walking with The Dog. Keeping out of The Husband's way on his time off is the best technique for spending the day without squabbling.
Our family seems to work best when everyone is off doing their thing. Can't wait for him to go back to work.