Manic Monday on Tuesday

I had another 'Manic Monday' yesterday. It started badly with the alarm going off and hearing Chris Moyles droning on about some rubbish or another. We were both shattered so the snooze button was hit several times, each peaceful reverie rudely interrupted by that irritating voice. By the time I crawled out of bed I was just about ready to kill someone. I really need to tune into another radio station.

YD ate her breakfast and then decided to be ill… there is a tummy bug going around so when she said she had a tummy ache I had to believe her. As she is the only one that has to be taken to school nowadays, it transpired that I’d got up for nothing, which cheered me up no end (NOT). I sent her back upstairs to put on her pjs and confined her to the sofa with a bucket.

The nocturnal child completely threw me off guard by getting up and going to college of her own volition. I woke the male child for the first time at 9am, just out of spite and reminded him for the umpteenth time that he HAS to clean and tidy his room… if he doesn’t do it soon, someone will find out and call in Environmental Health.

I collected every piece of ironing I could find in the house and added to my already foul mood by actually standing and doing it. My labour was interrupted by the need to wake the male child again and a trip into school to run hen club. Normally I enjoy this activity, but in my current mood and given the fact that YD was not actually at school, I was not best pleased to be dragging into town. The last vestige of humour left me when the class teacher announced that they had forgotten I was collecting children and I was required to follow them around the yard while they rounded some up. It was looking hopeful when was presented with a group of 7 nice little girls to work with. However, I subsequently discovered that the hens had not been done for some time and the task was more disgusting and took rather longer than I had anticipated... accompanied by much squealing and squeaking from the girls and great reluctance to actually touch the poo or clean generally. I'd arranged to meet the nocturnal child at the abbey to drive her home.  It's OK for her to keep me waiting, but within 2 mintutes of our meeting time, she was texting me demanding to know where I was.

Getting back from school well over an hour later, I went indoors and practically screamed at the male child who still wasn’t up and sorting out his room. I grumbled, scowled, complained about girls and hen poo, bemoaned my fate some more and then continued with the ironing. Luckily for all those present at the time, my mood was lifted slightly when Rafael Nadal began his quest for the 2011 Wimbledon title. Unfortunately this respite was short-lived as I then had to go out again to take DH for an MRI scan at the local hospital. Naturally they were running late so the 20 minute appointment ran over an hour.

On the way home, we stopped at Waitrose for essentials and by the time we arrived home it was time to start dinner. Joy. We’re trying not to waste food so much to the children’s absolute horror, for the first time in their lives I made rissoles from the leftover meat from Sunday's joint. To keep the calorie count down, I decided to oven bake them instead of frying (big mistake... in retrospect I now see that rissoles NEED to be fried). I carried on with the ironing while the food was in the oven and then endured the continual mithering of my kids while they whined and lamented their doom over being forced to eat this clearly inferior new foodstuff. They were at least astute enough to do the dishes before I started nagging about that too.

By the time I’d finished the ironing, YD was ‘laying low’ in bed. The nocturnal child had disappeared but the male child, not being very bright, was still being yelled at for not cleaning his room... to the point that I threatened to empty the entire room of his belongings when he was next at work. It’s amazing the effect a serious threat from a near-matricidal mother can have on a boy (before you call in social services, just to clarify he is nearly 20).

I then had to wait until it was almost dark so that I could extract two of the growers (young hens) from the flock as they are going to their new home tomorrow. They are really flighty birds so they can only be caught when they are sleepy after dusk. Of course, it goes without saying that by the time I’d got outside to the coop it was hammering down with rain and by the time I got back indoors with the box I was soaked to the skin. I would have loved a hot bath, but someone had already used all the hot water. And who says I lead a dull life?

The funny thing is, I’m not normally prone to bad temper or homicidal thoughts… so the blind rage I experienced at the sight of the toothpaste lid 6" away from the tube this morning should really have made me wonder if I was possibly suffering slightly from a little PMT.  I think I’d better get the Allways and Feminax ready!!!

p.s.
And while I'm on the subject... that blooming Allways slogan really gets on my nerves… “Have a happy period”? WTF??? Only a man could have come up with that and another man have approved it and signed it off. If there was a woman on the board, she’d have stabbed them for even having the audacity to mention it!