I'm a mum get me out of here.

The Children are being little pissants today, can't a girl even grieve in peace? The Husband is positively exasperated with them and I'm day dreaming of summer camps and the delightful notion of slipping out the front door and running away from their cretinous ways and petty squabbling about everything. Tears and tantrums (& that's just me and The Husband). As much as I adore and love the little wankers darlings, I really do not 'like' them today.

& yet perhaps it is The Children that are the (albeit abrasive) balm that eases the grief, after all there's simply no time or space to collapse and remain broken. I'm a full time referee in the sport of sibling-hood. Onwards and upwards. & to think we want another. I never once said i was sane.

I have taken on the appearance of a relative of Wurzel Gummage. We have no shower so baths are a rather grim affair at the moment on day 5 of our loss with a rather disgusting little game of 'avoid the clots' before I vomit. Needless to say I cannot and will not wash my hair in the bath at the moment as I would usually do. The Husband (bless) has offered to help me wash it over the bath side, however he fails to finish playing Mario Karts (for The Child, obviously, honest) in time each evening to actually undertake the task. I resemble a chip pan. I could also strike a match on my leg stubble, needless to say razors are top of Mondays shopping list as until Monday we are paupers (as usual). Aren't I the milf of the year.

The Parents are flying home from España today and no doubt mother dearest will positively fly round here to comfort her daughter (who's birthday she buggered off to Spain for, ditto her anniversary when she was supposed to be babysitting) . I can't say I'm enamoured with the prospect. I try very hard to hold it together and pick myself up, for my children and for my own sanity and she'll want me to be broken again because I'm her daughter and I'm not supposed to fix myself, that's part of her job description. I don't do 'broken' in company. I'm a loner when it comes to the depths of my emotions and reactions through years of depression and anxiety. I can't collapse publicly. At the end of the day there's nothing she can do. It's happened. It's shit and awful but it's happened and I'm dealing with it. Nothing can stop it happening and nothing can give me my baby back. I become brittle and withdrawn in a most acerbic manner when people attempt to prise emotional responses out of me against my will.

Nick Jnr is the parent of choice today (for a change)

I need a holiday.

& ice-cream.