So we are back, having braved the slopes and travelling for two days straight each way in a car full of boys. It was fun, the boys have perfected le snowplough, well at least the eldest has, while the youngest spent more time lying in the snow wailing or rushing indoors for hot chocolates. Still much merriment was had by all. Number one son, fussy eater extrodinaire, managed to find a dish he enjoyed and literally lapped up the raclette, I managed to ski a red slope without crying, no mean feat let me tell you, and my husband managed to cover the entire Three Valleys on skis, which is more exercise than he normally gets in a year.
Still the majestic beauty of the mountains was wiped away by today's announcement by my nanny of two months that she is finding the job too tough and is leaving. I think what with all the Bank Holidays over Christmas and her taking three days paid holiday (she only works two days) I have paid her more not to work for me, than to work for me. Still even this financial inducement is apparently not enough to entice her to stay and she is off.
Its times like this that make the life of a working mum a living hell. I am tempted to throw in the towel and give up, but the prospect of abject poverty is strangely unappealing, plus the fact that for at least five minutes my career prospects are looking rosy, which is a disappointingly rare turn of events.
I wish I could clone myself. One of me could lie in bed all day, watching soaps, reading Grazia and eating chocolate - that would be the real me, one of me could be a high flying journalist who had the time to schmooze all the right editors in order to get the best commissions, one of me could be a domestic goddess running around after the boys and baking cakes till they were sick of my fondant fancies, and one of me could bugger off on a round the world trip and forget all about family and financial responsibilities.
Don't mind me, I am just feeling hacked off at having to renew my search for childcare just when I thought things had settled down.
On the positive side the babies turned one yesterday. I can hardly believe these squirming wrigglers with their plump little thighs and cute little tricks are the same skinny babies that were evicted from my womb just 12 months ago. This year, like all the ones since I have had children, has flown by. But although I had planned to savour every moment, like most of my plans this has been shoved aside by day to day concerns, and now I am counting the moments till everyone is at school/nursery and I can stop having a daily panic attack about just who will look after the boys while I attempt to earn an honest crust.
In the meantime if anyone knows of a good nanny who wants a job looking after four kids in North London send her my way....