The only snag is that when I whipped over in a frenzy of anticipation to pick up my virtual gongs I discovered that in return I have to pat other blogs on the back so's to speak. Now it's not that I have any objection to dishing out the praise, but I simply don't have the time to follow any other blogs. It's not that I don't want to. There is nothing I would love more than to spend hours at my computer reading about the joys and sorrows of other mums, particularly as there are some amazing writers out there. It's just that with four boys of five and under, a sick as a dog husband and a sorry excuse for a career, I find it hard enough to keep my own blog updated.
The problem is that just the act of my sitting down at the computer to write has a mystical effect on my household. It starts off peaceful enough, which is why I decide to snatch a few moments to spend some quality time at the keyboard, but the moment I start tapping away a wailing sound begins to emit from the bowels of the house.
It could be son number one whose own computer has been struck down with an mysterious virus that means he can no longer access the Playhouse Disney website - a disaster of epic proportions, or son number two demanding that someone arrive to wipe his bottom post haste, or either of the babies objecting to a lack of milk/dummy/cuddles/attention (delete as appopriate). Whatever the reason I'd bet my last Rolo that within moments of my fingers hitting the keys the plaintive cry of 'Mummy...' will ring out loud around the house.
I have noticed a similar cause and effect taking place when I try to make a phone call. The boys could be sitting nice as pie, but the moment one of my friends, or even worse one of my editors, calls with an urgent message, they are instantly twined around my legs, whining and wailing at the top of their voices, until I can't hear a word above their clamouring for my attention.
So I'd like to say a big thank you for all those lovely awards, each one gave me a lovely warm glow inside, but please don't think me ungracious or ungrateful if I don't reciprocate. It's not that I don't care, it's just that I can't extricate myself from family life for long enough to have a life of my own.