Steve's Mum gets involved and I need lots of black fur fabric!

Tuesday continued in much the same way as the previous week: Jack was miserable, Emily was confused and the older two cross. However, as the evening progressed, it was obvious that Richard and Natasha had had enough of things being awkward and just wanted everything back to normal, ie revolving around them.

I managed to avoid yelling at them but it was very hard. What I really wanted to do was stamp my feet and shout “I want everything to be all right as well!” It’s bad enough when there is an atmosphere at home because of something you have said or done, but when it’s because of someone else’s stupidity, it’s very frustrating.

This morning (Wednesday) I tried talking to Steve’s mum about all this and was surprised when she suggested that she might be able to help. This was a complete about-face for her, because last time she didn’t want to know. She’s going to collect Jack from his after-school football club and give him some tea. What else she has in mind I don’t know, but at the moment I am open to any suggestions.

I’ve got to stop writing now and concentrate on Emily’s costume for her Christmas performance. Usually when she has to dress up for something at school/nursery, she always opts for wings and a wand, whatever character she is supposed to be. We have lots of wings and at least three wands. But no! She needs a cat costume. Apparently there has to be ears, whiskers, a long swishy tail and lots of fur! Good job I love a challenge.

Jack survives his return to school

Writing a lifestyle blog regularly only works if your lifestyle is such that you don’t have too much happening and lots of time to write about it. Unfortunately that’s just not true at the moment, so I will try and cram in as much as I can before some other disaster strikes the Warner household.

We got through last weekend somehow. You know how it is when something really awful has happened; everyone loses the ability to speak or act naturally. We all seemed to be looking at our words very carefully before we spoke them, in case we caused even more upset.

Jack spent most of his time in his room. The others tried to encourage him to come out and do stuff with them but he just wasn’t interested. By the time Sunday evening came they were really worried and wanted reassurances.

Steven and I talked to them at the dinner table. Jack had his meal on a tray in his room, so we could talk more freely than if he was there, looking so wretched. We explained that because Georgina had said things to Jack to make him think he wasn’t wanted, Jack in turn had lashed out at his school friends and got into trouble for fighting.

Emily couldn’t really understand any of it. To her, life is very black and white. Jack is her brother and she loves him and she squabbles with him and that’s just how it is. The older two understood but were still indignant that something so obviously untrue could have caused so much trouble. I didn’t mention about the suspension possibility; I felt they had enough to take in.

Monday morning arrived and I managed to get Jack up, dressed and ready for school. Without making too big a deal of it, I offered to take him in the car. It wasn’t that I thought he might bottle it and not make it to the Head’s office; it just seemed less painful to get him there by the quickest route.

He wouldn’t let me come in with him. He walked off very stiffly and avoided looking at any of the other kids in the playground.

The day seemed to take forever to be over. Normally 3pm arrives far too quickly and I have to gallop to get to Emily and then Jack in time: not that day. They both got in the car and were unnaturally quiet. Finally Emily couldn’t stand it any longer and started chattering. For once I was pleased to have her filling in all the gaps in the conversation.

When it was bedtime Jack told me how it had been. Apparently he had seen the Head on his own and then he had had to apologise to the other boys. Luckily for Jack, the others just wanted to be out of her office as quickly as possible and they all shook hands and went back to class.

Jack told me he had been a bit worried that he would be in for it when it was break time but, apart from one or two comments, it seemed to have been forgotten.

If only it could be so easily forgotten by Jack.

Fighting the school system on behalf of your child

The next day Jack couldn’t face going to school. I was torn between letting him stay off as it was Friday in the hope that everyone would have moved on to some other topic of playground gossip by Monday, and knowing it wouldn’t be forgotten and it was better just to face things and get it over with. In the end I went with letting him stay at home. Luckily I have a kindly neighbour who is able to “sit” at short notice. She is smart enough to recognise a tricky situation when she sees one and assured me she would just “be there” and not bother Jack at all. So I set off for my appointment with the Headteacher.

If I had read my school newsletters properly, instead of putting them under the fruit bowl to look at later (and forgetting to do it) I would have known that there was a temporary Head in charge of Jack and Emily’s school. The usual Headteacher was on long-term sick leave and her temporary replacement was struggling to make her mark on the school.

Just as schoolchildren hate having supply staff to cover for their usual form teacher, so parents hate having to deal with supply head teachers. Even if children don’t particularly like their class teacher, at least they do know all their funny habits. In turn, the class teacher knows them inside out and just how to handle them. When new staff have to be drafted in, no one knows anyone else and it is very easy to get it wrong: shout at a “delicate” child and they will burst into tears, go easy on the class trouble-maker and he will walk all over the teacher and undermine all their efforts at discipline.

So I had to deal with a head teacher who didn’t know me and who had no idea what my son was normally like. All she could see was a boy from Year 6 had started a very serious fight in the playground and should therefore be suspended and possibly excluded permanently.

She was obviously very busy and very stressed. Whatever problems had driven the normal Head to go off sick, they were troubling her as well. She made it quite clear that I was only there to be told off, not to argue Jack’s case.

One of the earliest things I learned about myself as a parent was that if it was something for my child’s benefit I was willing to go to any lengths to achieve it. Where normally I would perhaps not speak up for myself, for my children I was more than able to make myself heard. If ever I needed to speak up, it was now.

The Head finished her rehearsed speech about making examples of unruly pupils and stated that Jack was suspended for two weeks. Then she looked at me as if she expected me to be grateful and shuffle off.

I wasn’t grateful and I wasn’t shuffling anywhere! I spoke very clearly and calmly and told her that I understood that she had to maintain discipline but surely she needed to hear all of the facts.

She looked very surprised and seemed amazed that a parent could calmly ask her to hear her side of things. She was obviously used to parents shouting and threatening further violence.

I explained just what had been going on in Jack’s life and how unhappy this had made him. I also told her what Jack is usually like and how out of character fighting is. I suggested she talk to his class teacher to prove what a peaceful boy he normally is and just how miserable he has been recently. I also suggested that to suspend Jack at this difficult time would just make things worse. He would be so ashamed and it would be the final straw.

Luckily for me, Jack’s class teacher knew I was coming in and joined our meeting. She backed up what I had said and also encouraged the Head to have a re-think about the suspension. I have never been more grateful to another human being.

It was obvious that the Head was torn between wanting to help in a difficult situation and needing to maintain her position of strength. In the end, her compassion won and she agreed that Jack could return to school on Monday.

He’s got to report to her office first thing and apologise to the other boys involved. I wasn’t sure how he would take this news but it had to be better than suspension. So I headed home to break the news.

Now it seems, Jack's fighting the whole world

I didn't get to see Jack's teacher. I arrived early so I could be first at the door but the woman from the school office beat me to it. She had obviously been looking out for me and called me over, using that voice that fills every parent with dread.

She was trying to be impartial and detached about the whole thing but you could see she was struggling not to let me have her true take on things. I was wondering what on earth was going on. I soon found out.

Sitting in the corner of her office was Jack. His uniform was covered in mud and he was holding an ice pack to one eye.

I have seen quite a few playground scraps in my time but this must have been the real thing. Worse still was the fact that Jack doesn't usually settle his problems by fighting; he is far more likely to go off and brood about stuff than try and sort it out with his fists.

Mrs. Cooper, the office lady, suggested I take Jack straight home and then come back the next day to talk to the Headteacher. I was too shocked to argue. I just gathered Jack up and put him in the car, then went back to get Emily.

Jack wouldn't talk on the way home, even when Emily kept on asking him why he was covered in mud and had a sore eye. I tried to distract her but, like most 5-year olds, when she wants to know something she goes on and on. Luckily I had put Jack in the front seat; if they had been next to each other I think there would have been more bloodshed.

When we got home Jack went straight to his room and Emily wanted to know what was happening. I told her that Jack must have fallen out with someone and that she shouldn't worry because I would sort it out. She obviously wanted to believe me but was finding it very hard. She took the safe option of watching television and let me go off to talk to Jack.

At first he wouldn't even speak to me, let alone open the door. I assured him I wasn't going to get cross, I was just worried about him and wanted to help him if I could. After some persuading he let me come in.

He was such a sorry sight. He was still in his muddy clothes and was just slumped on the floor, leaning against his bed and looking so miserable. I sat down next to him and pulled him close. I thought he was going to fight against having a cuddle but he was obviously tired of trying to cope; he just clung to me and sobbed his heart out.

I soothed and stroked his hair, talking all sorts of nonsense til the tears finally stopped. When he could actually talk properly, rather than just sobbing and choking, he told me what had happened.

It seems that Adam had finally got fed up with Jack being so grumpy and not talking to him and had gone off to spend his lunchtime with some other kids. Jack had wanted to talk to him so much that he had gone to find him. Adam didn't feel like being mates and wanted to carry on his game of football. Jack got cross and pulled at his jumper. The other boys took exception to this and shoved Jack away. Jack got even crosser and thumped the nearest boy. He fell over in the mud and another boy leapt on Jack. He went down and so it progressed.

When I felt it was the right time I asked Jack what it was that had been making him so unhappy. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer but wanted to hear Jack's version. As I suspected, he was so miserable at the thought of not being a "wanted" child, of being a "mistake", of not being the same as his brother and sisters.

What do you say to a child who is doubting something so basic as his existence and his part in his family? I tried everything I could think of: every happy memory, every birthday and Christmas, every holiday and special event in his life that we had shared. It was no good. He was too deep in his misery and just couldn't be comforted. Finally he asked to be on his own and reluctantly I left him to it.

I made that favourite tea I had planned and somehow we got through the evening. He ate his food but I doubt if he even noticed what it was. He watched television but didn't take it in. He went to bed without any argument and couldn't even be bothered to read. He just put his light out and rolled over. It was very, very sad.

The Situation With Jack Is Getting Worse

I must make sure I see Jack’s teacher soon. I don’t think his class’s Open Day is such a good time after all. His teacher is lovely, very approachable, but I know from experience what it is like when a parent has something really important to talk about and all the other parents want a word as well.

When I collected him yesterday he looked very down. He hardly said a word in the car and even Emily noticed. Usually she is so wrapped up in telling me her news (especially if they have been practising for the Christmas show) that she likes Jack to be quiet. His silence just wasn’t right.

As we drove off I saw one of my friends waving frantically. It was impossible to stop; I would have caused a jam a mile long. She rang me later though and I’m very glad she did. (This is where the “Mummy Mafia” comes into its own – I’ve written about its virtues in my Parental Advice blog.)

I have known Nicky for ages; her son, Adam, has been friends with Jack since Nursery and I know she doesn’t exaggerate. She told me that Jack and Adam had had a falling-out and were now not even speaking to each other.

This is really worrying. In my experience boys rarely fall out with each other for more than five minutes. By comparison girls are much harder work. They are forever rowing, calling each other names, generally being horrid one minute and best friends again by the next day. I used to get really upset on behalf of Natasha when she first went to Nursery. Some days her circle of friends would play with her and then suddenly she would be excluded from the “in” crowd.

At the time I hadn’t worked at Nursery level, only in Primary Schools, so didn’t realise that bitchiness starts at 3 with some girls and just gets worse the older they are. Boys, however, don’t care what other boys are wearing etc when they are 3; they just want to rush about, make a lot of noise, kick balls very clumsily and play with dinosaurs.

But back to Adam and Jack. Apparently Jack had been very quiet all day Monday and even grumpier on Tuesday. Adam had asked him what was up several times and when he did it again at lunchtime Jack had shoved him away and eaten his food on his own.

This was so unlike Jack that Adam had told his mum; he was obviously really amazed by Jack’s attitude. Nicky had told him not to worry too much and to try and talk to Jack the next day.

Adam had tried twice, so he told his mum at going home time on Wednesday, but Jack had just blanked him and turned away.

I was very touched that not once did Nicky even imply that she thought Jack was horrible for being nasty to Adam. She knew he isn’t like this normally and that there must be something really wrong.

I told her I couldn’t really talk because all the kids were within earshot but I rang her back this morning to explain. She was furious on my behalf that Georgina could have upset the family so much.

When I told her about our visit to confront Georgina, I thought she was going to explode with fury. She couldn’t believe that anyone could be so rotten to their own family. It’s really great when a friend backs you up like that. Recently I have discovered a website called Just for Mums. It’s really good. There are loads of forums for posting up stuff that is worrying you, as well as good news of course, and all the members seem to give very genuine support. But there’s nothing like actually hearing a friend shout, “The bitch! How could she say that to your lovely Jack?”

So I’m going to try and see Jack’s teacher this afternoon and I think I had better get sausages and mash for tea: Jack’s favourite. Wish me luck!

We've Been to See Her!

Before I up-dated this bit of my blog I thought I would try and calm myself by thinking of something else and write about it on my Parental Advice blog. Usually this works a treat. It didn't today.

Last night Steve and I went over to see Georgina. Normally an opportunity to spend some time with just Steve is wonderful. It happens very rarely and so is such a treat. There was nothing pleasant about this trip.

I had tried to talk to Steve's mum about what had happened but she was very busy when I rang and, to be honest, I don't think she wanted to get involved. I can't blame her. She was there when all this about Jack was said but I think she hoped he hadn't taken any notice. Apparently he didn't react at the time and she thought it would all blow over. Needless to say, she hadn't mentioned any of this to us when we had got back.

When I rang Georgina to arrange to meet up she obviously had no idea what it was all about. At first she thought I was ringing to take her out to dinner to thank her for all her "hard work". When I had stopped spluttering I suggested we stayed in instead. All I wanted to do was shout at this stupid woman and, possibly, thump her - not the sort of thing you can do in a restaurant, unless you want to get kicked out.

She was all smiles when we got there and started on about how glad she was to have been "such a help". Steven grabbed my hand before I could throw the first punch and muttered about counting to ten. Ha! If I counted to a thousand I would still be raging.

Once she had gone through her usual fussy routine of getting coffee (in cups with saucers - I don't think she owns a mug) and biscuits (served on individual plates - arghhh!) she looked at us ready to receive her due praise.

I let Steve do it. I don't think I could have got through the first sentence without resorting to violence and swearing.

Steve had decided that he would ignore all the other issues, like the stupid rules and eating up cabbage, and just concentrate on what she had said to Jack. He explained very clearly how upset Jack was and how hurtful and untrue it all was. He started really well, honestly, he did. He hadn't reckoned on just how stupid she is, how thick-skinned and how out of touch with real family life.

She was astonished. She had no idea what we were talking about. She got really cross and told us we were ungrateful and bad parents.

There probably was more but I didn't wait to hear it. I grabbed hold of Steve and we walked out. We sat in the car shaking and didn't drive off for ages because we just couldn't do it. I am sure she was watching us from behind the curtains - perhaps she expected us to come back in and apologise. She'd have a long wait.

Eventually we managed to start the car and drove further down the road where she couldn't see us. Steve was so hurt. He loves his family but this was the last straw. I doubt if there will be much contact between them now for a long time.

We got home and tried to pretend that everything was ok but the kids aren't stupid. We were all a bit subdued and for once no one objected when it was bedtime. We were all glad to escape but I doubt if Steve or I had more than a couple of hours' sleep.

I hope that's the end of it for now but somehow I doubt it. Jack's class have got an open afternoon this week so I may get a chance to see what his teacher says. He looks so unhappy each morning and glares at the others as if he really resents them.

I'm going to sweep up some leaves now - every one I squash into the rubbish sack I will imagine is Georgina's face!

How Much Chaos Can One Aunt Cause?

Well I was right about the kids accepting a dvd/pizza night as compensation for their aunt's horrible visit. I hadn't reckoned on Natasha knowing about the new Magnum puddings (have you seen them, they've got fantastic fillings and ice cream - obviously - and then that lovely thick Magnum chocolate!) She said it would be a crime not to try them, so they were added into the deal.

It's very hard these days to find a film that will hold everyone's interest. When you think we have to cater for the simplicity of Emily's tastes (think pink, think happy, think princesses), the more macho requirements of Jack and Richard (think fast cars, think noise, think action) and the "sophisticated" style of Natasha, you are limited in your choices. My needs are way down the list. I am just required to hire it, watch it and return it.

We decided that IceAge 2 fitted the bill. Luckily for me I had already got a copy in my "emergency cupboard" so that was one less thing to have to get. Just for information: my emergency cupboard started when the children were toddlers and prone to mega strops that in my early days as a mum I found very hard to cope with. My mum suggested that I keep in reserve a few odds and ends, like new colouring pencils and blank paper for scribbling, some usually forbidden multi-coloured sweets (in very small packets!!!) an interesting book with bright illustrations and, of course, a new unseen video, for really desperate rainy afternoons. This supply has been my salvation on many occasions and even now, many years and tantrums later, I still rely on it.

So there we were with a variety of pizzas and the dvd. Everything was going well. There were no arguments about who was going to sit on which seat, who needed most cushions and most important of all, who would hold the remote control. (We have a tick list - can't you just tell I'm a teacher!) Half-way through I realised that Jack had been increasingly quiet and had eaten virtually nothing.

Anyone who has met Jack will tell you that he doesn't do quiet and he doesn't hold back when a pizza box is opened. He had manoeuvred himself next to me on the sofa and was twisting the tassel on his cushion round and round until it came off.

As it came away in his hand he gave a huge angry sob and stormed out of the room. The older two didn't notice or care but Emily and I were both astounded. Emily stared up at me, open-mouthed, and made to follow her brother. I called her back and went after Jack.

I won't bore you with all the details of how I found out what the problem was or what I said to comfort him but believe me, I was so angry. Apparently, not content with giving stupid, impossible-to-follow orders to my children and making them eat things they hate, their aunt Georgina had told Jack that he was a "mistake" and by rights shouldn't be here.

It turns out that while trying to eat his dinner and failing miserably because cabbage was involved, Georgina had shouted at him that he should be grateful to have food and a nice home because he wasn't a "planned" child like the other three but a "mistake".

According to her reckoning because there is a five year gap between Richard and Jack, his conception must have been an unwanted accident and we were too stupid to get rid of him. Even as I write this I am still shaking with fury that someone could spout such hurtful rubbish to a child (and a relative at that!)

In fact Jack was planned and wanted and loved. If Georgina had ever bothered to visit or phone or generally be involved in our young family she would have known that I was ill after Richard was born and needed some time to recover. We had always wanted a big family and it just took a bit longer than we had planned.

Steve missed most of this drama, only coming in at the end in time to finish some cold pizza and sit with Jack til he fell asleep. At the time he didn't realise why he was sitting with a tear-stained child, he just did what he is so good at - being a warm, cuddly dad. I told him much later what it was all about.....

Well, that's one less Christmas card I'll need this year.

But that isn't the end of it. This time she has gone too far and next week Steve says we are going to see Georgina and tell her a few home truths......

How To Get Your Children To Eat Vegetables!

The short answer to the above question: import into your house a miserable old boot of an aunt who will wear down your children with her incessant preaching about the virtues of vitamins so that they will eat anything just to shut her up!!!!!!

Not strictly true, but that was Natasha's take on things. For a teenager (and a girl! Goodness, they are moody creatures) she is generally tolerant of extended family members. As the eldest of my brood, she is the most used to assorted relatives visiting and cooing over the growth of each subsequent child.

She tries not to roll her eyes in that irritating way all teenagers have when confronted with adult stupidity - you know, talking, breathing, existing.... She only sighs heavily for my benefit, never in front of her grandparents, and keeps flouncing to a minimum. However, her aunt Georgina's recent stay has tried her patience mightily.

As I said before, Georgina has no immediate personal experience of having a husband/children etc and her own happy childhood as one of six kids seems a distant memory. Apparently she started laying down stupid, pointless rules for my kids the minute she walked into the house. Despite the best efforts of my mother in law to curb Georgina's enthusiasm for "discipline", she started issuing instructions and demanding instant obedience.

We have a very easy-going routine in our house for bedtime. Each child has their own pattern, worked out over many months. Natasha knows her bodyclock intimately and takes serious note of what it is telling her. She has been known to go to bed at 7.30 if "exhausted" or to be reading still at 3am if that feels right. Richard, however, needs gentle persuasion to be removed from his pc or playstation but generally complies after a second reminder. In either case, they know what they should be doing and don't need some inexperienced harridan shouting at them as if they have committed the most venal crime imaginable.

Similarly the two youngest also need/like gentle and familiar patterns at bedtime. Jack is allowed to watch television or read while Emily has her story and then Steve or I spend some quiet time with him before leaving him to settle himself down.

Sounds reasonable, doesn't it? Ok, it's not perfect every time: I have been known to shout/scream/stamp etc like every other mother on the planet, but generally we get there. Not so when Georgina is around. Apparently it got so bad that first night that my mother in law had to invent things she needed from the supermarket just to get Georgina out of the house. It took all of her grandmotherly skills to keep the children from phoning Childline and then booking a taxi to get them to Kent. Emily even emptied her piggybank of 37p as her contribution towards the taxi fare in the hope that this would clinch the deal.

Needless to say, I have had every moment of their visit reported to me in the most minute detail by each child. If I thought the bribes I had promised before Georgina even came were expensive, the amount of largesse I will have to produce to assuage their hurt feelings may mean I have to go back to full-time work. Jack and Emily are making a list from the Argos catalogue, Richard has left a Dell advert for laptops on my bed and Natasha is looking at cars on the internet. I know they will settle for a dvd/pizza evening but they are going to make me suffer in the meantime. I just hope the pizza doesn't come with any vegetables!!

Did You Miss Me?

I've just returned from the technological wasteland that is my parents' home. When you are permanently surrounded by mobile phones, home computers/laptops, satellite tv, playstations and dvd recorders, you accept their existence as the norm. Just as we couldn't imagine working in a kitchen without the benefit of a freezer/microwave/fan oven/dishwasher, so we can't imagine how we would spend days at a time without our technological support system to keep us entertained and informed. Well, my parents seem to manage!

I have been staying with them for the last few days as my father had to go into hospital. My mother doesn't drive and as the NHS saw fit to send him for surgery to a hospital 20 miles away from their home, extra drivers were necessary.

I am at that tricky stage of life where my children obviously need my attention but now also my parents do as well. As usual, everything becomes a balancing act, trying to work out whose needs are the greatest.

For once it was an obvious choice. Anyone could, for a few days at least, feed, clothe and send off to school my children but my mother needed ME (or rather, us - as Steve is a much calmer driver and capable of untold patience where elderly relatives are concerned.) The harder decision was just who would do the feeding/clothing/sending off of the children. Various friends offered but in each case they could take only one each of the four kids. I don't have to tell you just how complex the arrangements are for just one child. If you multiply this by four then you can imagine the logistics......

No, it was much simpler if we could keep the children in one place and import a useful, sensible adult. One that the children knew and liked and, hopefully, would obey most of the time.

Steve's mother was the obvious answer. She is separated (quite happily) from Steve's father, can drive, is free of work commitments and has brought up six children of her own. (Incidentally, can you see where Steve got the idea from that four kids wouldn't be a problem! "Large families are brilliant" was his favourite quote before my first pregnancy.)

The only down side to her looking after my children was that she would have to bring with her one of her own: Steve's sister, Georgina.

I should explain. Georgina is without children or husband and definitely without a sense of humour. I'm not sure where my mother in law went wrong but somehow her method of parenting went awry with Georgina and she has turned into the most miserable, old-before-her-time, boot-faced c*w that I have ever met. Needless to say, the children were not keen.

I had explained all about their grandad being poorly and how we were both needed down in Kent. I also explained that they couldn't all come and "help", no matter how they protested that they would all be paragons of virtue. In the end it took huge bribes to persuade them to allow their aunt through the door!

We set off on Friday and managed, somehow, to survive the aforementioned technological wasteland. Steve suddenly realised that he had no access to the Internet, couldn't even play pc games as he had left his lap top behind, and worse still, would have to watch ordinary television. He moans like fits that Sky is a waste of money but he still likes to have dozens of listings to go through and bitch about.

I have to admit I found it quite relaxing. I couldn't e mail anyone. My friends knew not to clutter up my mobile when I might need it for urgent messages from the hospital. I sat with my mother and talked for hours, just like we used to. She passed the time turning up a pair of curtains for me and I just sat. It was lovely!

What was not so lovely were the increasingly furious phone calls I received from the children. But more of that tomorrow... my mobile is ringing, the dishwasher has just finished and I promised to download an article on nits for my friend Dawn.

Just What Did Happen On Bonfire Night?

So there they all were, dead keen to have a firework party. They had phoned their friends. They were raiding the freezer for sausages and burgers. They were putting on boots and jackets ready to go and gather anything combustible for a bonfire. Steven just stood there and grinned inanely. When I fixed him with my most killer stare, he just looked sheepish and shrugged.

Big mistake! Fatal, in fact! Attempts to defend his actions would have helped or an argument in favour of a party, but no, just a shrug and his helpless- little- boy-lost face. It might have worked on his mother thirty years ago or on more naive girlfriends but I know this man inside out and helpless he is not!

I couldn't be bothered arguing with him. I couldn't be bothered explaining (again) why I do not like fireworks anywhere near my family or my home. I just turned on my heel and went out. I picked up my car keys, collected my handbag and left. The last thing I saw was Steve standing in the hall with his bottom jaw nearly on the carpet. The memory of it kept me chuckling all the way to my friend's house.

I stayed out about an hour and a half. It was 89 minutes too long. By the time I got back utter chaos had descended. The front door was open to the elements. Icy blasts were doing battle with the radiators and winning. The front garden was full of assorted children, some of whom I had never seen before. There wasn't an inch of space on any of the kitchen boards - they were stacked with bottles of Coke, paper plates with half-eaten burnt sausages and empty crisp
packets.

Dreading what I would find, I made my way quickly through to the back garden. Emily was standing with her nose pressed up against the patio doors. As soon as she heard me approach, she swung round and in a voice which sounded suspiciously like mine exclaimed,"You said we couldn't use the hose. You said there wasn't enough water and we mustn't waste it. But Daddy is putting water all over the garden. Tell him he musn't!"

Oh I told him alright!

They Should Ban Bonfire Night (Part 2)

I am so glad I provide my family with so many opportunities to embarass me and demonstrate my short-comings to the world. You remember I left you yesterday because my elderly cat had disgraced himself again.... well, it was fairly spectacular, even by Harry's standards! Usually it's just hair balls or biscuits, gobbled too fast and instantly returned. This time we had the full works. I won't go into detail - just use your imagination x10!

Emily was fascinated! She has known cats and their habits all her short life but she had never witnessed such double incontinence before - and all over the sitting room carpet!

We dealt with this in a calm and composed manner. I was very proud of myself. The smell had gone by the time Steve got in and the carpet will dry, eventually. I thought I had distracted Emily with an early bath and an extra story. We avoided the sitting room this morning and chatted happily on the way to school. She was a bit quieter than usual but she's a thoughtful child and her best friend was poorly so didn't join us on our walk.

Foolish me! You'd think I would have learnt by now. They don't forget. They don't know tact or discretion. They are just waiting for the most opportune moment. Emily decided her most opportune moment was in front of the entire playground, full of children, parents and a visiting big wig from somewhere.......

Yes, she let them have it in full technicolour and at full volume. We may have to change schools. I may have to resign from the PTA. I can still hear the sniggering. I may be forced to wipe that superior smug look off D***** A****'s face. She may have forgotten the incident with the windowcleaner and the negligee but I haven't!

Rats! This was supposed to be about Bonfire Night. Maybe tomorrow. I have to go and have a little talk with Emily.

They Should Ban Bonfire Night!

As a child I was always taught to have a healthy respect for fireworks. My father was in the Fire Brigade and as each Bonfire Night approached he would repeat dire warnings about the dangers of fireworks. Eternal vigilance was the message: he would fill buckets with water and place them at strategic sites around the back garden. If he was on duty, then my mother would be instructed to watch the roof of the house, the shed and the garden (front and back) all at the same time!! He was convinced of the danger, he had seen it often enough at other people's houses, and when it happened to his home, he would be ready.

When you see this every year, you grow up believing that fireworks are evil incarnate and any parent who allows their children near them is stupid and wicked. (To be fair, I later learned that his mother's cottage had, in fact, been set on fire by a malicious firework posted through her letterbox - only the fact that she had a very heavy curtain behind the door that smothered most of the explosion saved her from an even nastier experience than it was.)

It won't surprise you to learn that I have always refused to let my children have fireworks at home. If they must see them, then we go to large, organised displays that we can witness from a safe distance. Can you see where this is going .....

That's right!! Steve felt guilty that he hadn't taken the children out on Sunday as he had promised and arrived home with a large box and a sheepish grin. His idiot friend Matt had bought a job-lot of fireworks from another idiot friend and had given loads of the little b****** to Steve as a thank you for all that garden clearing.

The children spotted them before I did - have you noticed how acute children's radar is for any misdemeanour commited by a parent - and were organising a firework party before you could say "Guy Fawkes".

We live in a nice house. It has a nice garden. It has borders lovingly filled with plants. It is not designed for bonfires or fireworks or anything combustible.

I am going to have to leave it there for now. Emily has just called up to me to tell me that the cat has just had another accident on the carpet .... he is very old and very scared of fireworks, and that's another reason why they should be banned .... but I'll tell you what happened tomorrow.

Should have known better!

I was really fired up with enthusiasm to start this blog! Don't seem to have written anything more meaningful than shopping lists/holiday postcards/Ofsted questionnaires for ages. Even ear-marked this afternoon to compose lyrical descriptions of my family...... ha! then real life intruded.....
Steve, my husband, announced that he couldn't take the children out after all because his best friend Matt needed him and his Saab estate to clear garden rubbish.... What about all the rubbish in our garden. They don't call it leafy Surrey for nothing! Then my oldest daughter, Natasha, said she had been promised a driving lesson by her father and that if he wasn't available then (and I quote) "I would do!"

Richard who is 15 immediately ganged up with his brother Jack, who is 10, and demanded an equal amount of football coaching time. Then Emily who is only 5 but makes up for her lack of seniority by screaming the loudest told me, "Miss Harvey says you must hear me read NOW!" Teachers!! I ask you! So, that's it for now....

Hi Everyone

Hi Everyone,

My name is Lisa Warner (incase you haven't noticed from the millions of places Blogger seems to want me to enter it!) and I'm a 42 year old mother of four and a teacher. I love spending time with my kids, both my family and home and the little darlings at work (well most of them).

As my kids grow up it seems that I have more and more anecdotal stories to share and my friends are always saying how my life is like a little soap opera that they love hearing updates about, so I figured I'd share it with the world. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update this blog but hopefully I'll be able to bring you a few little tid-bits from my crazy life each week so you can laugh and cry with me and my family.

Peace and love,

Lisa