What do you mean you have homework?
Or, how life with Children is all swings and roundabouts.
At four o'clock on the last Sunday of half term, with tea to make (granted, a large pan of scouse and I know the hardest part is the peeling and then it's a matter of a quick stir now and again, but even so!) How am I supposed to help with homework and cook for ravenous hordes?
Well, once I was free to concentrate, I spent 2 hours (count them!) helping my DP write a story of his own. Chapters 1 to 5 (and a prologue) with a cliffhanger and the promise of "Oh yes, I'll sit next to you tomorrow and help with the next mission. Cool story, though. DP is my literate child who even in ordinary speech uses such beautiful narrative language that I just stand amazed. My language has simplified over the years (children do that to you, I understand) and it seems amazing that I can look forward to resuming my degree-level conversations again. My worry is that when I do have Adult children I won't be able to catch back up with them, that my brain will have been permanently mushed from wine and too much Blyton and that I will just have to sit and listen, nodding in pride and pointing out the philosophers as 'my children'.
But before then I have a hospital appointment tomorrow at 9.30 with a gynecologist. My periods have become increasingly heavy (sorry for the details) and it has Got Too Much. I've tried tablets, I don't want to have a coil fitted, I'm not too into hormones, so tomorrow will be my chance to ask someone what the best of a bad bunch is. At the moment three days of my life a month are wiped out by the damned thing, I flood and leak out every where (tres embarrassing) and I am sick of it. I will be going solo, too; DH has a delicate constitution (read;haemaphobic. So haemaphobic I just sent him out of the room when any children were about to be born so that the middies could concentrate on me and not the husband in a dead faint I know I would have had) and my mother (whose advice would be to just rip it out) is on holiday. My greatest fear is that there is something bigger wrong. (Mum and great grandma both had hysterectomies at 30+ because of cervical cancer) So, as you value our friendship, please think of me tomorrow. I will, of course, share any news when I return. Love, XXXX