It’s St Johns Wort time of the month again, and my hormones are being evil. I’m trying to find nice, joyful and interesting pictures to take for my Project 365, but everything I take pictures of makes me sad.
My oldest daughter’s first disco was supposed to be exciting, but she lost her glow-bangle and her jumper and when I went to collect her, instead of begging to stay longer she said sorrowfully “can we go home now?”
The cute piggies I went to feed this morning just looked like Death Row prisoners, waiting for the final day. I almost had an anxiety attack going over to feed them too, which I think is another PMT symptom. I had to go through 3 electric fence spring gates, and through a field that may or may not have contained a large bull, all of which fill me with dread at the best of times, but during Hormone Week make me feel like I am about to dive off a tall building with nothing but knicker elastic holding me up.
Spring gates scare me because I have been zapped going through them a number of times:
The girls are fighting, the baby just wants to get into the cupboards and Mapera tried to poke a hairpin into an electrical socket this morning.
Is it wrong to tell your child calmly that if they do that, they will die? She was a bit scared I think. I don’t want her to develop some sort of socket-phobia, but I figured it was serious enough for Mummy’s Quiet Voice.
I would really love for someone to just drop in for a visit on Saturday afternoons, someone with lots to talk about, and maybe some chocolate…or cake…or diazepam.