AND THEN THERE WAS ONE…..

Well this is strange. I’ve gone from being responsible for 7 children to being responsible for precisely 1 child and do you know what? It’s MUCH harder looking after a single child. Because they get bored and need attention. I’ve had to refuse to phone 25 different friends, refuse to play tennis, refuse to buy a bloody great punch bag, refuse to go to a theme park, refuse to go swimming, refuse to play football, agree to buy a 50p book which he read for precisely 45 seconds, refuse to buy a painting by numbers thing because he never finishes them and paint gets everywhere and finally agree to play a game of “speed” involving a pack of cards and some serious hand/eye co-ordination which gave me a headache because my eyes simply couldn’t relay the messages to my brain fast enough. Not going to get caught agreeing to that game again. It took about 4 hours and that was with him feeling sorry for me and being really slow on purpose.

In addition, he and I are attempting to regain some control of his healthy eating programme (holiday makes this very difficult) and have been discussing exercise and eating options. “If you had to choose just one place, anywhere in the world where you wouldn’t be allowed out for two entire days, where would you choose?” he asked me during our conversation. “Probably a really lovely spa somewhere in the Seychelles” I told him, – “What about you?”. “That’s really easy for me” he laughed, “I’d choose a supermarket”.

One thing I’m really really pleased about regarding Builder Bloke and our respective children is that they all get on pretty well and although I suspect that it might seem like overkill to them from time to time, because they now have to spend a huge amount of time together, I think it’s reassuring for them not to have to be with different children at their mother and/or father’s house. Same bunch. Shifting from house to house. Double the experiences. Weird. But at least a constant weirdness….

My youngest child is really missing his brother and sister and keeps asking me if I am. Not quite sure what to say. My teenage son is away with another family. I’m not worried about him. No news is good news and now that he is with responsible adults I hopefully don’t have to worry about too many things going wrong (quickly touch head just in case I’m tempting fate to say that).

My teenage daughter is in Poland. I put her on a plane two days ago. We had to drive to Luton airport at 5am so that she could get on her “Wizz Air” plane. As I waved her through customs I almost had a panic attack. WHAT was I thinking? Putting my 14 year old on a plane by herself – I’ve never even heard of Wizz Air! What if our friend wasn’t there to meet her the other end? Where would she go? How would she cope? She was desperate to go. For some reason she’s wanted to go to Auschwitz having heard a Great Grandmother talk about her experience in a concentration camp at her school last term. I thought it would be an amazing opportunity for her to experience something like that and to get a little bit of organised freedom. She called me today. She’s exhausted. They did a 5 hour walk in the mountains and got caught in an electrical storm with “drops of rain the size of brazil nuts” she told me.

I wonder if teenage girls these days are generally a little more savvy and interested in the world for reasons other than pure hedonism than the boys. I couldn’t have paid my teenage son to go on an adventure like that. He’s far too interested in mindless fun. I wonder if this is a common problem and whether, because of the economic climate and the popular parenting approach of the day that we are creating a generation of “lost boys” who will not be able to manage in our brave new world – as suggested in an article in The Times this weekend. I’m thinking about it. Wondering whether it’s going to become a serious problem for the future or not. Or is it entirely OK for him and his mates to piss about all summer long re-charging batteries ready for the long hard ‘A’ level slog next term?

Off to go and buy some Omega 3 oil or SOMETHING to grow some brain cells in anticipation of another bloody game of cards tomorrow. These youngsters are all so fast – it surprised me when we were on holiday that they all played cards together. Took them out to the restaurants. Played in the morning before we’d got organised. They do get quite lively though. One of them commented that “he hadn’t realised playing cards was a contact sport”.

Forget it. Too late. Brain cells irredeemable. Off to drink wine instead. Will drown them instead.