Things can only get better!

Or so they say.  Personally I think that's merely a softenener aimed at soothing the near-hysterical mother from taking one step too far.  Things could actually get a lot worse, and most probably will.  It's called children. 

Started this morning with Charlotte becoming extremely irate at the process of getting dressed.  Every item seemed to present some problem for her........the socks I chose didn't fit snuggly to her heel, the blouse was too tight, her jumper was itchy, her trousers too big and her pants, as usual, were sneaking in between her bum cheeks.  What could I say? Nothing that's what - every word I spoke just wound her up even more, which is why in the end I chose to use an alternative to speech.  Chris tells me that I can't reveal said alternative because Big Brother could be tracking the duck and Social Services would be round in a flash.  If that's the case then the world really has gone mad.

After much tears and tribulation I managed to get her to school only to come home to an email sent by 'Club Penguin' informing me that Danny had been banned from their site for using absolutely filthy language.  This was taking the rip.  Spent several hours trying to concoct a suitable punishment for the dirty little hound, eventually involving soap, water, a pair of plyers and several teaspoons of black pepper, when the thought occured to me that maybe I should just double check.  After all there could be some other explanation.  I asked for a list of the banned comments to be sent to me and on receipt I realised this was in no way the handywork of my son.  Not because he wouldn't have the gall....simply because his spelling isn't that good.  Actually that's cutting him a rather raw deal.  Danny is many things but this language was beyond.  I therefore spent the remainder of my day playing detective and have managed to locate the culprit (a friend of a friend of Dan's who had gained access to the account because Dan shares his password - nice one Dan).  Chris will be paying this child and his mother a visit tonight after dark, proving that the Bogey Man really does exist.

And so it has been rather an eventful day.  I also had a visit with Dan's teacher about the incidents of last Friday which resulted in my sobbing too when recounting the tale.  Mainly because I was, by this point, so darn frustrated by everything.  I resent the fact that I have to send my children in to a place where the teachers don't seem to have the resources, desire or authority to govern properly, where what you teach them at home seems to go completely out of the window and where the children generally behave like beasts (my own included sometimes).  It's like handing your prize possession over each morning just to be dumped on a rubbish tip for the day.  I don't hate it enought however to consider home schooling.  No, that would just be openly creating freaks.

Oh woe is me.  Why anyone reads this stuff I do not know.

And so for something more upbeat.  Chris has finally today started in paid employment, for the very first time in twenty seven months. Truly a miracle.  I can't wait until he gets his first payslip - and not because I want to spend it either.  Payslips have long since been a source of joy for me in that respect, the money having always been spent before it arrives.  (Violin moment).  No, I just think it will be a grand milestone in the Ford Family History.

And finally, some other good news.  I am now fully proficient and well versed in the procedure of nuclear attack survival skills.  How so? you may ask.  Well last night Euan came down at 10.30pm informing me he needed to BEGIN  his homework of creating a brochure on the subject.  Sorry I should say, Euan came down looking like he had been hit by a brick, croaking that he had this homework to do and acting like any moment he may pass out.  Naturally being the caring and loving mother that I am, I scolded him severely and whacked him a second time with the brick for good measure.  I then offered to do the homework for him. 

IN a nutshell.

*If you're within 0 to 3 miles of the blast.  Do nothing.  You're dead.

*If you're within 3 to 5 miles of the blast. Do nothing, you'll soon be dead.

*If you're within 5 to 10 miles. Have sex.  It'll take your mind off the fact you will be dead in a few days.

*If you're 10 to 20 miles away from the blast.  You may survive, but only if you've had the forethought to build a fallout shelter and managed to get to it in time, have stored 15 days worth of emergency food supplies, have a first aid kit and someone who is trained to use it, and can actually stand being stuck in a confined space with your entire family for two weeks without any one of you killing the others.   It's possible you may just want to get closer to the blast instead.

*Any further away than twenty miles you should be alright.  Maybe.  But why not have sex anyway.  The earth will need a few new people.

All in all I thought it was a pretty nifty piece of homework and am predicting top marks.

For now though, off to start building that shelter.