Monday, 21 September 2009


The other day my husband, exasperated at my moaning, wailed 'You just don't understand the demands on my time'. I burst into manical cackles, because although I quite accept there are many things in this world I don't understand (quantum physics, the appeal of Danni Minogue and people who forget to eat to name but three) time management is not one of them. He was after all speaking to a woman who manages work, four children, three child carers, two schools and the remnants of a social life.

Today is a case in point. I am working on a tight deadline for a big project, but during my working hours I have had to have a meeting with son number two's teacher as he is having problems with his erstwhile best friend that lead him to wake up at ungodly hours in the morning and wail at the mere mention of school. Then I had to sit through son number one's piano lesson with him as otherwise, instead of learning how to pound out that middle C, he just sits on the stool and sobs for me.

My final task was to witness the pantomime of the lost garage key (our sole means of access to said repository of junk), which had been carefully placed in a very sensible place by son number two, but one which he couldn't quite recall. After much screaming at him to remember what he had done with the precious key, to which he looked at me blankly and said he couldn't remember (men!), my mum (one of my three flavours of childcare) found it in the pushchair, which meant he thundered back up to my study to celebrate his vindication.

I won't even mention the screaming baby with a severe case of nappy rash due to the inordinate number of poos he seems to feel the need to do or the chaotic state of the house that calls to me to tidy it up every time I exit my office, or the million and one other chores from making an appointment with the doctor to sorting out my flaking cuticles that forever get pushed to the bottom of my to do list. Or all the things I need to organise ahead of the big boys birthday party, or the fact that I haven't seen or spoken to any of my friends for weeks because I have not a second to sort out a suitable time and date.

Still as husband would quite rightly point out, if I am quite so near to the end of my frazzled tether perhaps I shouldn't be spending my time blogging about it...


  1. You should definitely be blogging about it. Blogging is the only thing that can you keep you sane...

  2. Did you get that very irritating comment "Just r e l a x!" thrown in as well, for good measure? Or even worse, "Chill out!"?
    If you hear the sound of high pitched screaming over West London, that will be me committing hara-kiri.

    I know where you are coming from - hats off for holding it together, male support (ahem) notwithstanding.

    LCM x

  3. Grrrr indeed! Blogging is probably the only thing keeping you sane - DO IT MORE!!! I sometimes get the 'Well, if you don't think you can cope anymore, perhaps I should be the one staying at home with the kids'. Hah - nice try!

  4. PS: Did you see that I had tagged you for an award recently?

  5. HCM - It's not just me then! I always think that he would spontaneously combust if I actually did swap, but perhaps he would sail through it, which would be even worse. Will check out the award - thanks.

  6. Blog more!! There's a mention for you over at mine...

  7. Tell him to swap places for a day and see how he gets on.
    Hmmn could be a TV show in that...
    Blog about anything you like and take great comfort in the fact that you seriously kick ass as a writer, blogger and mum.

  8. Oh god, they just don't get it, do they?

  9. I would just like to say, in my defence, your honour, that the initial quote that prompted this post was very much taken out of context. I may have chosen the wrong the words at the time but if memory serves, I was merely attempting to express how it might be difficult for me to come home from work early on a particular day when I'd already come in about two hours late for reasons that now escape me. Oh yes, I think it was because I had to take one of the babies to the doctor.

    Anyway, MrsH has forgiven me for my poor vocabulary selection, so I hope you don't all have bad impression of me.