Tapeworms and tantrums

The tapeworm is back! It must be - what other possible excuse could there be for my nonstop eating? I mean apart from being a greedy mare, of course. And because of it being the 6 weeks holiday, I've not been able to get to the gym as much. With every handful of crisps and every jaffa cake, I can literally feel my bumcheeks creep a bit further down the back of my legs. Doesn't help that The Daughter and I went to Sainsbury's this morning and filled the trolley with nothing but filth. I felt guilty all the way round the shop, waiting for someone to make a comment about my kids getting rickets or scurvy. The Daughter attracted enough attention on her own, firstly by yawping loudly as we passed the rotisserie ovens  "Mummy, does that lady kill the chickens and put them in there?". Cue lots of laughter and her World-famous poochy indignant face because she didn't understand why people thought it funny. Then, as we were passing the cigarette kiosk she spotted a woman with neon pink hair and thought she'd do a bit of public service by telling those that hadn't already noticed. I managed to clamp my hand over her mouth and skip quickly out the store just in time though.

It's been nice spending a bit of quality time with the Childbeasts; we've been swimming and to a farm, tomorrow we're going to the cinema. But I've yet to strike a balance between enjoying our activities, and wanting to throttle them. Today has been a monumental test of patience, with me having to tell The Daughter off for throwing books at her brother amongst many other things. One minute they're playing 'Holiday Club' (a game which seems to involve throwing themselves on top of each other, shrieking "YOU go to holiday club!" - suffice it to say First choice would be in rather a lot of trouble if that's the sort of activities their reps were encouraging) and the next there's tears and cries of "He kicked me in the heeeeeeaaaaaaad!".  I long for the day they can play unsupervised, without the fear of one of them falling out of an upstairs window/eating cat biscuits/dropping a toy fire engine in the fishtank, but I fear it is some way off.  Barely 2 minutes goes by without me being summoned to rescue the Boychild because he's gotten stuck in his Cosy Coupe (he just WILL NOT learn that the damn thing has a door and to use that instead of sliding down and trying to crawl out through the wheels!) or to console him after he's heard the Rag and Bone man, or to "Watch me mummy! Look at me!" for the millionth time as The Daughter performs her repertoire of daft things, ranging from silly to downright dangerous and idiotic. One thing's for sure, the house is going to be like a ghost town when school starts again in September and The Boychild is at pre-school. I'll miss them when they're not here...honestly....!