last saturday's post plus note to readers

ok so here is my post again from last Saturday - someone recommended I delete and repost it.

adverts are now popping up on my blog and I think if this shit goes on I will just give up!! I can't see how to fix it. i've spent hours and hours and hours on it and I don't need the aggro; this was meant to be something to help me and others, not stress me out further.

anyway, here's saturday's post again:

My day today was like a bad episode of Eastenders with a bit of Casualty thrown in (this won't mean much to you if you're not in England, perhaps - one is a depressing soap opera, the other a hospital drama set in the emergency room).

I began the day again unable to move in pain and heard the children happily playing outside my door. Asking my Pre Pubescent Beauty to please take my Blue Eyed Boy downstairs and give him breakfast, I received a cheery reply and so I turned over, contemplating how I was going to get past their game, to the bathroom, to get some water to take my painkillers - this time they were in my room, but no water. I must get organised, or get back on a 24 hour patch to avoid this morning paralysis. I must take the painkillers, I was thinking, give it half an hour then try to get going. My daughter was due at my parents to do homework and various things; my son and I were meant to be going shoe shopping.

Anyway, the drama kicked off shortly after this. They disagreed about some small aspect of the game and PPB spiralled into a screaming fit which lasted half an hour perhaps; on the richter scale it was an 8 or 9, involving swearing, threats of violence, she even looked at one point as if she was going to hurtle down the stairs. I tried to keep calm and keep everyone else calm whilst somehow trying to take my pills; I could barely move for the pain and here I was dealing with a screaming ten year old. Twice more she calmed down and then kicked off again.

Turned out she was upset with Baby Daddy Number 1, a journalist cum musician cum piss artist who more or less dances to his own tune and has periods of being more or less involved in her upbringing - this being a 'fallow' period. He had called last night but given no indication when he might call again or see her. So she was taking out her rage on her nearest and dearest: us.

Eventually, many texts later, my Very Welsh Mother turned up, full of barely suppressed rage herself. Together we tried to convince my daughter to put her boots on and leave the house; she wanted discussion, analysis, consolation, cuddles, more and more attention; I had run out of steam and was no longer able to stand up. My poor 6 year old had opened his Lego box and was doing his best to block out the world. She then smashed his lego model and stormed out of the front door. 'Go after her!' I said to my mum, as I was still in my old tracksuit (having not had a minute - literally - to even think about a shower or getting dressed). 'FUCK OFF!!!' she yelled in my face. Then she stormed out into the road. I immediately ordered my daughter back inside the house and my mother to leave. I was shaking with shock. Never in my life has she spoken to me like this; and I hadn't done anything myself to provoke her.

I think we are all of us losing the plot. I'm really worried about my whole family, to be honest. There is a lot of illness around and a hell of a lot of stress. I think everyone is kind of imploding.

I collapsed on the sofa with more painkillers and curled up in a ball. PPB apologised and said she was shocked into silence. Quickly, she did the things on her list: literacy homework, music practise, tidying her bedroom, helping me prepare lunch... My father arrived later and took her to their house for a while and I was able, at about 3pm, to get into town with BEB, where the stress of shoe shopping actually seemed relaxing!

Bizarrely, once out of the house, I didn't need the toilet once, for 2 hours. Admittedly I was careful not to drink anything at all as I know how much BEB hates our embarrassing public toilet searches, but still. This morning it was every ten minutes. This made me think about the link between IC and stress. He commented on it too - 'you haven't needed the toilet once this afternoon, Mummy!' - which did seem to be the case on our two hour outing, tho the pain started again in the car on the way home.

So I've said - any more behaviour of this kind, no kitten. If it's pre-kitten, she won't be coming. If it's post-kitten, she'll be going to the cats and dogs home.

Harsh, but fair, I think, under the circumstances.

They were sweet tonight and went to bed after stories and cuddles by 7.30, my daughter calmly accepting her 'consequence' of no Saturday night TV.

I should've been miserable tonight as had to cancel a planned concert with one of my best friends (hope she got there safe!) because I just wasn't well enough. But my main feeling was relief. THANK GOD THE HOUSE IS QUIET! That kind of thing. And now a chat with my errant soulmate, and sleep; the best part of the day.