Pinch, punch first of the month. OK I'm a little bit late. Welcome to my world.
Yesterday was 1st September and I decided it was a time for new starts. The boys would soon be back at school and I would regain that blissful two hours a day peace I've been craving for the last five weeks.
As I've put on a quite frankly obscene amount of weight and developed a rather useful but unhealthy wine glass shelf on my stomach I figured we would walk to the leisure centre for the boys' swimming lessons, which are handily timed at 1.30 and 4.30.
I soon remembered why I never walk anywhere with the boys, or generally leave the house.
The streets around me are not so much paved with gold but scattered with broken glass and dog crap. The three year old fell off his scooter...twice. Quite frankly I have no idea how he didn't end up torn to shreds or covered in crap - I guess that's something at least.
The eight year old spent the journey saying useful things like, 'I'm really hot' 'My hands hurt' and 'Why do we have to come?'
The leisure centre was as grim as ever and the three year old decided to stick his feet down every exposed drain he could find...My proclamations about verrucas and monsters that live in drains quite frankly went over his head and he carried on regardless.
The best parts were saved for the town centre where we had to kill the best part of two hours. The boys spent their time trying (not?) to run into people on their scooters and shouting and screaming at the top of their voices.
At this point I decided I shouldn't have let the boys bring their scooters but parenting is full of interesting decisions such as maintaining the safety of little old ladies versus your own sanity...I chose the latter.
I figured a drink and a snack in Waterstones cafe would calm the situation. Wrong again! A seemingly harmless game of snakes and ladders turned into World War III as the three year old threw the dice around the room whilst the eight year old constantly shouted at him to play by the rules.
I retreated to the counter to collect my coffee where the bloke serving simply glanced at my stomach and said, 'It could be worse.'
I AM NOT FUCKING PREGNANT!!
Anyway, I ended up leaving half my coffee as I huffily grabbed the thousands of bags I was carrying and hissed loudly about the boys being a disgrace, never taking them anywhere ever again and complaining that I never see anyone else's kids acting like this.
I ended up buying the biggest flapjack I could find to ensure that it took the three year old half an hour to eat it during the eight year old's lesson and off we stomped back to the leisure centre.
I finished the day off with another salad and half a bottle of wine. After canvassing opinion on social media it turns out that wine is just fruit and therefore healthy so I have no idea why I haven't lost half a stone yet.
So, there you go. Yet another rambling account of a typical day during the school holidays.
I'll be glad when Monday comes along. Even if it's just so I have something a little more interesting to write about!
But the three year old doesn't go back until next Friday, so...
Watch this space!