Thursday 24th July – The Summer Holidays, lots more working for a week or two

There is nothing like the school holidays to remind you of the grinding monotony of the routines involved in looking after small children.  I am keeping a rough tally for the week so far:

Times I have told Tallulah to stop playing with/generally prodding her brother’s head  – 30

Times I have had to chivvy them along so that lunch time doesn’t bleed into dinner time, etc – 10

Times I have had to remind them to flush the toilet and wash their hands – 4 billion

Times I have had to repeat myself – 20 gerjillion

Times I have had to raise my voice – It is permanently all the way up to eleven this week.

It is all so very, very boring.  Even rock cakes are losing their ability to make me feel comforted in times of trauma.  This may be because I have nearly eaten them all, and the ones that are left are stale.  I don’t really know.  I do know that I have now found my limit for enduring school holidays.  I will round it up to a generous fortnight, but that’s all I’m prepared to offer you.  You can take your other four weeks and stick them somewhere unpleasant, because that’s what it’s going to feel like to me.

I have got to the point where I am now trying to cross off the rest of the time with way stations, much like someone would approach climbing Everest.  I can knock another week off because we’re going to Norfolk and my parents will be there.  This means I only have three weeks left to account for.  The last week will probably go quite quickly because I leave the whole school uniform/shoe thing until the last minute because otherwise it’s so boring I could kill myself and I like to work against the clock.  It’s a bit like that show with Anneka Rice and Wincey Willis but with less mullets and jumpsuits.  So that’s only two weeks.  One of the week’s Tilly is away with a friend, but that could go either way, so I’m rather undecided about it.  It may be better, it may be worse.  Tallulah is the wild card and it just depends on how she’s going to play it.  If she were a horse I’d never bet on her, so that week is worrying me quite a lot.

That leaves next week in which I am assured of more of the same, more of the same, and more of the same.  It would help if they decided not to be ill in any way shape or form.  I think life would be generally easier, happier and altogether more shiny if there were less vomit and other bodily fluids being excreted.  I am using the next few days as a litmus test to see if they really are all better before planning any holiday extravaganzas.  I have some graph paper, some foxes heads on sticks and a thermometer dipped in antique calpol.  Wish me luck…