OK. So nobody said it would easy. Raising children I mean not laundry. Somewhere way way back in the recesses of my mind I recall my mother probably saying having pigs would be easier. She might just be right. At least the little curly tailed creatures would appreciate you when you throw slops at them and surprisingly are cleaner and tidier than the average teenager.
But it's not the mess or noise of a teenager that's troubling me - it's the fact that as they get older they are actually more demanding than they were when they were 8 or 9 or 10. Life was a lot easier then than I realised at the time. Sure I had to drive them here there and everywhere - swimming lessons, cricket, football, rugby, piano etc but emotionally they were sound and happy. It's those dreaded hormones that have well and truly kicked in and some days I feel like an old wet towel - wrung out to dry.
And there's still the laundry to do.
Missing socks and a whole pile of washing. Oh, and a bit of writing in the middle. Why is that there is always one odd sock in the wash? What can one small mother of three children; a mad dog and a forever absent husband do when the washing pile gets bigger than her? Will she ever get that novel written when she is constantly distracted by the ping of the washing machine. Read on to find out....
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