Sunday, 31 October

It is Sunday. It is raining. It is Halloween, I think. To be sure, I am unclear whether I was supposed to celebrate yesterday or today as we are in the UK and Halloween here is a weird holiday. It is still considered quite scary and even the children's costumes are bloody and horror-esque. Not really appropriate for my little ones. Plus, the teenagers around here use it as an excuse to terrorise. Basically, the Halloween memories I have from my childhood are not quite what happens on this side of the pond. Which is why I have no idea if it is today or yesterday. From my Facebook updates, it looks like most of the states celebrated yesterday.

It makes me laugh that if you really have a great day with the kids, then at the end of the day, one of them at least loses all control of their little personality and falls apart. Usually in public. Yesterday it was Catherine in Hyde Park. We had so much fun and ice cream and feeding swans not to mention the playground in the rain, which she thought was hysterical.

By the time we were heading home, she just could not hold it together anymore and started crying...and crying...and crying. Just the sure exhaustion of the day had taken over and she melted into a pile of damp teary little girl. I love moments like these for a few reasons:

1) I know I have shown her a great time

2) I know she is going to sleep like a champ

but most of all

3) I am completely jealous, because how often do I feel like doing that myself after a crap day at work or a fall out with my parents? Just in the grocery store or on the bus just want to start whining and crying out loud with no worry. Such a bonus of youth.

We are supposed to head to brunch with some friends at 11. I am meant to take brownies which are still in the box.

Stuart has already had a few good whacks at his sister this morning, which probably didn't hurt, but you'd have thought he had stabbed her from all the tears.

My husband is playing video games.

It is daylight savings.

I need a drink.

Getting Started

Like everyone I know, I have always thought about writing a book. But the likelihood of that happening is slim and what I decided I really wanted to do was write down the seriously funny things that happen to me. Probably a diary, maybe a voyeuristic treat for those who want to peek into my crazed world, but definitely a written memory of things that make me laugh, and things that should make me laugh in the future about the daily chaos.

I was trying to do this through my facebook page, but it just wasn't working. Besides facebook has become a place where everyone I have ever met, and some who I haven't but almost did, are connected to me in a strange virtual world where I now know about people I probably wouldn't recognise on the street. These people as well now feel they know me and therefore have comments on what I do and what happens in my life. To be frank, I don't like alot of them. I should delete them...but who has the time?

So, this morning has been ridiculous beyond reason. Most recently by 17 month old thug son, Stuart just whacked his father in the testicles. Adding 'cup' to dad's stocking list. I was unaware of all the protective clothing one needs as a parent. So this morning we did get a very small lie in - til about 7:45 when my 4 year old, Catherine, came in to tell me that the cats were climbing the drapes and she needed the squirt bottle. Squirt bottle in hand, she runs off to torture the unsuspecting cats. Alex and I snuggle back down hoping to catch a few more minutes of snooze time. Stuart pipes up and then Catherine returns, now chasing the cats with the squirt bottle. Cats, being more clever than my 4 year old, are now securely hidden under the bed out of site so Catherine goes to town the bald patch of carpet with the squirt bottle. She says she is 'fixing it'....or as it turns out, creating a puddle in the bedroom.

About this time, boy cat, Giles, jumps onto my bedside table and manages to get half his body wedged into my empty water glass to lick the dregs of what is left. Catherine squeals, runs for the cat, Stuart cries and throws something that makes a significant bang. It is time to get up.

Typical family morning. Stuart eats his pancakes and mine so I am left with coffee. I call it a diet. I decide to wash the sheets which are covered in jammy hand prints and paw prints and in doing so the top of the stain remover falls out and it dumps all over the floor, as I am on all fours in the bathroom wiping up the mess with the duvet cover, Catherine comes to tell me that when I covered her up with the coochey blanket, I did it all wrong and I needed to come do it again.

This is where I have my first hysterical laughter of the day.

Welcome to Frances Funny Life.