on a slightly brighter note...

My darling Pre-Pubescent beauty of a daughter, who continues to amaze and confuse me in equal measure, who lights up my life every time the darkness really descends, has got into her first choice school for next year. I am so happy about this; we all are.

Whatever happens to me, I know now that she will be ok. Or at least, that it is much less likely that she will join a gang and be pregnant at 15. No, she is going to have a brilliant start in life; an environment that is stimulating and safe at the same time; so many advantages. She will not be like me aged 13. She will not fuck up the way I did. And even if she does, there will be an army of people to pick her up. I'm not on my own anymore, even though her father is off on a beach in Thailand with his latest 'broody' girlfriend, even if something happened to my parents. PPB now has a huge, soft trampoline on which to bounce off from; not only bounce ... she can fly.

Our option two and three for schools were frankly not wonderful, so this result is just such a relief.

It is the first good thing that has happened to us since my little nephew was born.

It is a wonderful school - the right balance of academic and pastoral - they want you to do well, but also, more importantly, they want you to be happy and fulfilled - and I am so proud of her for all the hard work she put in to get there. She's even been awarded a scholarship for particular talent in an artistic subject area; that part doesn't surprise me one bit considering how talented she is and how hard she works. I'm glad she doesn't know I'm writing all this, or she'd be blushing; but she is, she's amazing.

And my Blue Eyed Boy, who holds my hand through these winter days, is loving piano and cricket in equal measure, and has just been moved into the top groups for Maths and Literacy at school, which is fab too. He has also just learnt to play monopoly, which he is delighted with and wants to do all the time. He reminds me so much of both my little brothers; particularly the one who has ended up really rich, which bodes well for my latter years (bladder bag or no bladder bag, BEB will look after me I'm sure).

I am constantly flabbergasted, proud and consoled by the pure survival instinct of my children. They are both little toughies; hardcore survivors. I suppose they have had to be. And that thought makes me a bit sad. But it shouldn't. Illness doesn't equate with blame. And considering all that is going on, they are doing just fine.

Some people say it's not healthy to live for your children; I would dispute that. Without them it is quite evident to me that I would not be here by now; they are my reason for carrying on. I think living through your children, expecting them to make up for your inadequacies, do the things you didn't do, travel down the paths you didn't take, or perhaps exactly the paths you did take and are prescriptive about... all of that is deeply unhealthy.

But for my children ? Right now, that's all it's for.