Mother's Day: NOT for burning the house down or trips to A+E

I was browning sugar to create a delicious feast for my perfect children, when there was a thump and a screech of pain. Of course, I dropped everything and ran towards the sound of my wounded child. Five minutes later, Max was explaining just how much he could bend his fingers and that the pain was excruciating, and how it was ALL SAM'S FAULT, and smoke was billowing out of the kitchen in caustic black asphyxiating clouds. Sounds like a Mother's Day that sums it all up!

I am pleased to say that every smoke alarm in the house is in excellent, earsplittingly clamorous working order. My pot may never be the same though, or the spoon, and there is a lingering sooty smell.

How we survive from day to day around here, I just don't know.

I had quite a nice mother's day morning, previous to the aforementioned traumas. The kids slept in like good adolescents, except for Chas, who was out hiking across Dartmoor. It was peaceful. I got into a writing groove, where my right brain stuck its tongue out at my left brain and danced across the keys. I should have known it was too good to last!

I hope you had a lovely mother's day. I hope you got flowers, sat on the toilet all by yourself, ate with two hands, and got hugged and 'I love you'-ed by sweet, sticky little people. They grow up so fast! When they do grow up, they are useful for rushing into smoke filled rooms, opening windows, turning on fans, turning off alarms, and alerting the neighbours that we are ok. And then bringing ice and comfort to their little brother. Motherhood: It's not boring, that's for sure.