The Monster Diaries

Sunday 9th June – Thursday 13th June

We were up at the crack of dawn today (well 7am but it is Sunday) as Middle Child is playing cricket in an under 15s cup match. I Dropped Youngest Child to the Mother in Laws so at least it’s only me having to sit in a field for three hours! However, boredom was alleviated by texts from a friend who is stressing that she has missed her window of fertility for this month and proceeds to tell me the exact days, hours and minutes she has had sex with her boyfriend over the last two weeks! Apparently, she is finding it difficult to understand the sticks she pees on to tell her if she is ovulating or not and so has decided that I am to be the reader of her sticks and I will tell her when it is an appropriate time to procreate! Right!

I return home around 1pm to discover The Husband is back! Joy of joys! I Walk into the kitchen to find a bag full of washing and a set of golf clubs in the way. My face must have said it all as he actually, no word of a lie, put his washing into the machine and turned it on himself. He then proceeded to sit with me in the garden and attempt to make conversation! Who is this man who has returned from the magical realm of Norwich?

The magic had started to weaken a couple of hours later though when he pulled a pile of clean washing out of the tumble dryer and dumped it on top of a pile of dirty washing in the utility room! FFS!

I woke up on Monday morning in a very low mood. I don’t think the soaking wet pillow helped and despite going to bed at a reasonable time I feel exhausted. The novelty of only going in to school for GCSEs has obviously worn off for Eldest Child as getting him out of bed has gone back to the usual method of shouting and threatening all sorts of punishments. He is refusing to eat breakfast despite the fact that he has to go and sit a two-hour exam and my advice on this matter is met with a “just shut up and leave me alone”.

Work usually cheers me up but I just can’t shake off this mood. I feel bored and fed up of doing the same old things. Roll on September when I drop down to four days a week. Sounds great doesn’t it? Only the day I am not at work I will be at college studying for a Foundation Degree! Yes, this is what I do when I feel bored. Sign myself up to three years of stress and study and a massive student loan! But its ok because The Husband and kids have promised me that they will step up and be more supportive and help out more. I Will believe that when I see it.

Tuesday morning brought the usual fun and games. Everyone moaning, me shouting to get everyone out of the door in time and thrown into the mix our friend Nathan turns up. Nathan often turns up unexpected and often requiring food (and is always very welcome as he will actually sit at the table and engage in conversation with me) but I do always have to make sure I have a range of vegan options in the freezer just in case he arrives in time for dinner and I have even learned how to make a vegan curry. Now, I don’t think Nathan has ever been here this early in the morning so he has never witnessed the delights that is our household before midday. He makes some comment about how he’s heard it’s not a happy house in the mornings! WTF! “Who told you that then?” I retort. “Let me guess the one who sits on his arse watching tv every morning not helping?”

Youngest Child appears at this point and informs me that it’s school photos today. “School photos?” I screech! “Well you’d better go upstairs then and put some concealer on that face!”

Nathan looks at me aghast! “Concealer? At age 10?” he exclaims. Well let me explain…

On Sunday evening I sent her upstairs for a bath. After an hour she comes out of the bathroom in a big cloud of steam complaining that all around her mouth is burning. I look at her and realise above her top lip looks slightly swollen. I ask her what she has done to which she swears she hasn’t done anything. I go into the bathroom puzzled, wondering if she could be allergic to my expensive bath oil that I let her use as a treat after her traumatic week in Wales. As soon as I walk in, the smell hits me. An overpowering, bad egg smell that could only be one thing! Hair removal cream! The ‘little angel’ who, at the grand old age of 10, has decided that she can no longer cope with her hairy upper lip, has decided to raid the bathroom drawers and use my hair removal cream. Not the gentle facial hair remover that is especially for the delicate top lip area but the industrial strength variety that is for the dense forest of hair that only grows on the legs and arms of a peri-menopausal woman! The result is a burning, swollen top lip and a nice brown patch of burnt skin on her cheek! FFS!

While Nathan is recovering from that gem of a story, I ask The Husband to feed the tortoise (more on him later!). He pulls out a bag of bistro style salad, you know the type that you would normally get for a special dinner and which the tortoise eats all the time while we munch on good old iceberg! Husband says “he won’t eat that it’s not fresh enough!” I reply that he will have to eat it because it’s all he has right now. Husband continues to argue that “there is no way he will eat that I’m telling you now!”

I am in the process of trying to get Middle Child’s hair into a ponytail while still fuming that Youngest Child is having a school photo with a brown patch on her face, and about to explode because Eldest Child is not yet down and ready to go, even though we are leaving in exactly three minutes.

I fix The Husband with the death stare and say through gritted teeth “well either feed him or don’t feed him and I will do it when I get home at 9pm tonight after work and three hours of cricket”. Then I grab my keys, shout to anyone listening “come on we are going” and march out of the door, hoping that three children are following behind.

Somehow, I don’t think Nathan will turn up at our house first thing in the morning anymore!

Later that evening standing in the middle of a cricket field in the rain I get the surprise of my life. The Husband, who was meeting me to collect Youngest Child and take her home, rings me and informs me that he is in the car park and would I like to go home and he will stay at cricket! Either Nathan mentioned I was sounding a bit unstable and warned Husband that for his own safety he needs to be nice to me or the magic of Norwich hasn’t quite worn off yet. Either way I was in the car and on my way home before he had put the phone down.

I got home and decided to make the most of my unexpected free evening by soaking my feet in the foot spa. Despite the promises of the fruit enzymes, the inch-thick hard skin on the back of my heel has not miraculously started to peel away. The only thing that has happened is that I now have very dry rough feet that catch on every bit of material they come into contact with. I knew I should have gone for the pound shop variety instead of being a snob and buying one for £6.99 online!

As soon as my feet enter the lovely, warm, peppermint smelling water there is a knock on the door. FFS! Its Middle Child and Husband (doesn’t anyone in this house have a key?), the match got rained off! Had to be the one match The Husband offered to stay at. FML!

After work on Wednesday I have to traipse up to the secondary school for middle daughters’ parents evening. That means a half hour drive each way for a five-minute slot with each of seven teachers to be told nothing different than what was in the school report I received two days ago (which was stunning and yes in the good way). I Had to take Youngest Child with me which meant an hour of complaining that she needs a drink and can I go and get her a cup of tea! NO! Does this child not realise she is ten?

I get home at 6.45pm and of course everyone is waiting for their dinner! I really, really can’t be arsed to make dinner. I am tired and my mood is still low and nobody ever wants to eat the same thing. I look in the fridge and think “fuck it!”

I decide to use up the left-over bacon, eggs and the few hash browns I find in the freezer and do a fry up. Not the most exciting dinner granted but can you believe it? Everyone actually cleans their plates and Husband says that was so nice he could eat it again!! Lesson to be learned, stop putting any effort into making interesting dinners.

I hate packing, especially for someone else. I find it extremely stressful and usually ends with me being very snappy, doing a lot of shouting and saying FFS quite a lot. However, this is what I had to spend my Thursday evening doing because another child is going away and for seven nights this time! Yay! Though to be fair this is the quiet, easy, Middle Child who doesn’t really cause me any trouble.

A few hours later, after much screaming at her younger sister and informing her that “it’s no wonder nobody likes you”, Middle Child is told how disappointed I am in her and “I never thought I would say it but I am looking forward to you going away tomorrow for some peace!” What was it I said again? Doesn’t cause me any trouble?

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