I swear, there’s something in the water. It’s been a pants weekend mostly, because  a) I missed out on a sleepover that’s been planned since December, one that was just for mummies and b) I realised that I am actually a bit of a grown up (something I’ve been avoiding for a while…)

High points of today:
- getting boys to eat breakfast nicely whilst I read to them
- playing at the park, feeding the ducks, crossing a wooden ‘bridge’, hunting for treasure
- buying a Sunday paper – I love that I’m thinking it’s possible to read one. Haven’t done that in 4 years. Haven’t read it yet, but thinking it’s ok to buy one – that’s progress, right?
- E trying potato wedges that he wouldn’t normally look twice at
- Taking boys to Duxford Air Museum and smiling nicely when they were enjoying themselves [terrorising  the other visitors with their screaming as they played aeroplanes]

Low points of today:
- threatening boys with smacking on more occasions than I care to remember
- abandoning parenting and taking to my bed for an hour at 4pm. Lovely Bloke took over at that point.
- shouting at Lovely Bloke for annoying me, when he wasn’t  really being that annoying
- boys not eating their dinner, no matter what :(
- not getting around to planting out the seeds that we’ve successfully grown in two jars

So where does this one fit?
E has popped up from behind the sofa, scared the bejesus out of me, and begun to ask lots of questions about swimming, and how you would drown, and whether I would shout at him if he did, and if he would need to go to the doctor.

With every day that passes my life mirrors outnumbered more and more closely than I care to admit to.

He tells me he is hungry. “So so hungry mummy, Derek [his toy dog who he sleeps with] couldn’t sleep because he could hear my tummy rumbling”. So I let him finish his half eaten apple off. And then we get to the nub of it: he doesn’t want to go to sleep on his own. 

We’ve had this for a while now, and as he’s been unwell, he’s had a few nights in our bed. You know, when you’ve changed the sheets so many times you have no bedding left and you’re so tired you could sleep in the dirty bedding on the floor? That’s not just me, is it???

Anyway, he’s laid down on the sofa, feet under my bum, and gone to sleep beautifully. Told me he loved me, and going to sleep next to me is best.

I’m building a rod for my back. Part of me thinks it’s wrong. But another part of me thinks that he will be too cool to want to do this with me for much longer, so surely I should let it happen?

See, it’s just another thing to make me think that it’s a Schizo Sunday. How’s your day been??