Have a break. Have a breakdown.
What the hell just happened? Oh I know, it was Half Term. Somehow I quite often seem to blog about holidays when they are about to be over, when I am at an ebb so low you can see the the mid-Atlantic ridge of my soul. What is it about these energy-sapping, will-defying, hope-unplugging weeks? On paper I was good to go. My military precision planning had ensured: food supplies in the house a diary neatly stocked with things to do a weekend at my mother's (always a good way to use up several days, while knowing that there will be a soothing caress and a gin at the end of each one — did my mother bargain on having to mother me until her mid-seventies?) playdates library cinema cultural exploration shopping a sleepover special time with each child menus planned for the week a night out pour la mère packed lunch goodies and I was even able to do a bit of teaching and dance. What a domestic goddess, I hear you cry, cheering me on in my maternal triumph. Hmmm...