Six Week Hellidays

I had a dream last night. And before you say it, I know that people talking about their dreams is as boring as them talking about their children - but I don't care. It was a dream ABOUT my children so I'm giving you a double whammy of boredom. Feck it.
Anyway, I dreamt that the children were going back to school. Which, you might think, is the most perfect dream I could possibly ask for - except it wasn't. It was an anxiety dream...the kind of dream that really stresses you out and no matter what you do, the situation just gets worse and worse.
I dreamt that they were going back to school and I was so chilled from the hols that I was running really late. Nobody was dressed, packed lunches weren't made and it was 2pm and we still weren't ready. I woke up in a sweat, which isn't unusual during these weeks when I realise that I've got a day of my kids, but this time it was from the anxiety of them GOING TO SCHOOL. Either The Husband is spiking my drinks or the universe is trying to tell me something. Perhaps the NSPCC is trying to brainwash me. Whatever the cause, I've been a bit shocked.
So I've been thinking about this dream today. I've been wondering if in my subconscious I am actually enjoying the school holidays. Remind me never to do therapy. Anyway, this dream has panicked me a bit about having to get ready in the mornings so I am taking the following precautions so that the dream doesn't come true:
1) Camp out at the school gate the month night before the first day back.
2) Get that space food that NASA gives their astronauts and do the packed lunches now. That food lasts for light-years apparently.
3) Make the kids wear their uniforms every day from now on.
4) Start ignoring everyone in preparation for some of the mothers in the playground.
5) Buy lots of new outfits to ensure I am the best dressed.

I digress. Because my reason for this blog was to have a good old moan about the summer holidays. But I'm actually doing okay. I've only wanted to smash my head against the school gate twice. The Husband has taken two weeks off and we've decided rather than go away we're just going to do 'daycations'. For example, we went to Cambridge today. With the usual fighting in the car, spilt drinks, shouting, arguing etc. it was exactly like going abroad for two weeks, just without the swimming pool. These daycations seem to be working out okay because each day we do something different and I'm not spending any of my child benefit because The Husband is paying.
Not that I'm counting, but I've got exactly ELEVEN days left with the children after The Husband goes back to work. And I think I can do it. I really think I can. Of course Twitter has helped. And Valium. And the fact that the school gates opening once again is not just a dream.

Enough already!

Okay, okay! I know I've not blogged in soooo long. In fact I've just spent an hour staring at the computer screen in a trance.
The thing is, I've only got a limited amount of FUNNY. And I seem to be using it all up on Twitter. That's if you think I'm funny. Not a lot of people do.
Anyway, I know it's time to return to my blog because last night The Husband said "Please do your blog" and he HATES my blog. So the universe is definitely trying to tell me something.
So here's the deal. I will blog tomorrow night. And it will be good. Because that's how dedicated I am to my 3 readers.
xxx

The Social Experiment

Ah remembered today that the whole point of writing 'Mum Versus Toddler' was because my friend came over last week. She is a very strict mum - big on boundaries, discipline and routine so she was pretty shocked to see how I am raising The Toddler and how he just wanders around doing his own thing. She actually asked me if he was a Social Experiment. It was brilliant. Okay, so she was joking but part of her meant it and I loved it. It was the funniest thing I'd heard for days.
I meant to write my whole blog about it but I went and bloody forgot! That's intelligence-after-children for you. They definitely take out some brain cells with the placenta.
Anyway, the truth is YES. The Toddler is a kind of Social Experiment in that I am interested to see if he turns out okay without me being clingy, naggy and strict on him. In essence - non-parenting. I'm so ready to jump on the other two that it will be most intriguing to find out what happens with The Toddler. I bet he turns out the best.
All this is said tongue-in-cheek of course. I'm not like that couple who are raising their child non-gender specific or whatever bollocks it's called. The child's grandparents for pete's sake don't even know if the kid is male or female. I understand that the parents don't want to put the social norm of pink for girls/ trains for boys stuff on the child but IT'S NATURE!!!! (Unless of course you count The Tomboy who is out there on her own. Gender-creative I like to call it.). Surely the child will feel that having a gender is wrong? It's been forced to keep its gender a secret? That's a parenting disaster waiting to happen, I'm sure. Which is great for me because it will make my fuck ups not look so bad.
In the future, if anybody blames The Toddler's behavioural problems on me, at least I can say that he was brought up knowing that he was a boy. Even though he'll probably end up in therapy with all the gender-neutral kids. He's got me for his mother, after all.