A whole week has passed. A week in which...we have played naked football in the back garden (well, the Twins were naked, Son and I wore dresses), the children have had their school reports, we've all had a bit of an emotional crisis, and it's been hot, hot, hot.
The nice thing about school reports were that the kids got to write their own evaluation of the school year. Twin 1's own school feedback sheet began like this: 'The best thing this year was when Holly ran into a chair leg...'
As a result of super-dooper reports they all got sweets and to have a Happy Meal for tea. I know, bad Mum, giving junk food  as a reward. But I'm a bit good-mum'd out at the moment. Which brings me to the day of crisis (yesterday). Twin 2 had a really lovely report, but, bless her, she hasn't really made any academic progress. And I know that this is because of a raft of other things (visual perception issues, problems with fine motor skills, inability to concentrate for long periods of time, etc.)  because of her cerebral palsy. However, she's in the mainstream system, and we've got to deal with that somehow. So...I realised that next year I will have to offer her more support in order to help her begin to catch up with her peers, which would be fine if it weren't the case that I have two other children, and two jobs and I'm a de facto single parent at the moment. So this is where the beginnings of the crisis started. Twin 1 gets very huffy when she considers Twin 2 is getting more attention, for starters. Hmmm. So, I had a serious  chat with Twin 1 and we made an agreement that in return for me spending more time with Twin 2, she would get to play football with her dad at weekends (an easy deal to make on his behalf, as he's still in Iceland and couldn't disagree). But then, later on, Twin 1 got all upset, because of course her dad isn't here very much and it's not fair because he's the only one who understands her and her sister gets all the attention because she's disabled etc. etc. So we had another long chat. A long chat during which I was not cleaning the bathroom, hanging out the washing, or preparing for my Monday morning ESOL class. But, you know, it's important to give these things the time they need. So, her sobs had finally subsided as I'd agreed to try harder to give her the attention she needs, and she'd just gone off to do her teeth when Son came in, also tearful, feeling neglected because I've been spending so much time with the girls that our evening games of cards/chess have slipped. We had a long and tearful chat and I agreed to try harder to be a better mother to him as well. So he went off to do his teeth and then I heard Twin 2's sobs from the bedroom because she'd been waiting all this time for me to say goodnight and now I'd spent so much time listening to the other two that I'd entirely messed up her bedtime routine, which is very important to her. Good grief.
So...I have pencilled in half an hour's one-to-one time with each of them every school night. I've done more than pencil it in, in fact. I have added it into my electronic calendar. Which means that between seven and eight thirty Monday to Friday I have to focus entirely on my children and not sneakily try to brush the odd toilet bowl or fold up bed linen or search for interesting grammar lessons online. Which is what a good mother should do, but...
Yes, now they've all had their crisis sorted out by me, I have my own crisis.
I have texted the cleaner. She is deep cleaning my kitchen on Monday and starting a regular weekly clean after the holidays. Hoo-blooming-rah.
I feel like I'm almost clawing back some control. Almost...but not really, because I realised this afternoon that Son had some leavers' thing on after school. I thought it was just a class disco, and let him wear his choice of clothes (old ripped trousers and his favourite long sleeved t-shirt). When we went to pick him up it turned out it was a Leavers Ball, and all the other kids were in shirts & ties or posh frocks. There was a red carpet and everything (bad mother, bad, bad mother). Son was the only not dressed up to the nines - luckily he didn't care. And now, I've just found out that it's the leavers' assembly on Monday morning, which clashes with my Monday ESOL class...what to do?
The crisis continues.
Roll on the hols!