Yet another blogging mummy

 On the worst day, it was the last day. If that seems like a Dickensian or Biblical beginning, this story does lend itself to something miraculous.  It truly was the best of times, and the worst of times, although I did not know it at the time. The day that I decided that I physically and emotionally could not take "it" anymore, whatever it was (some kind of existential matter I expect) was the day that "it" seemed to rear its head for the last time and then subside.  The screaming was so loud that all 4 of our ears rang. They literally rang for hours afterwards. We both had to take post screaming pills.  The resistance was strong, the fighting raged, and the whining never ceased. I had forgotten what peace, and sleep looked or felt like in our house. And I was desperate. Caterpillars, as you know, spend 14 days inside a little chrysallis they have made around themselves. Their bodies and brains are broken down whilst inside, and then reformed to create the body and...

Oh. My. Goodness. This summer has been a completely new experience for me. I absolutely do feel like I just want to lie down all day, all the time. I almost don't know what to write, I'm so tired.  I thought summers were supposed to be fun, casual, carefree? Not a bit of it. With small kids? Summers are ridiculous.  Summer is full of boundaries pushed until they fall over, crafts that never get started or if they get started never get finished, of unreal expectations, endless lost shoes, (to be fair that's every day of the year with kids) sticky fingers, toes, noses, chins, screaming through the "sun scream" application, (both of you), hours packing stuff for the beach and then hours, and, let's face it, usually days to unpack the wet, sandy, dirty clothes, banana peels discovered in the bottom of bags days after the trip, empty juice boxes, daily ice cream demands, fights with wasps, and the complete and total defiance when you ask anything at all to be done,...