Ash Wednesday

Inappropriately Ash Wednesday is Day 1 of clean-lung regime. Sick of saying it, but I want to break free from the tyranny of fags.

Failed on Monday by 20. Lasted til 4pm yesterday. With Shrove Tuesday traditionally being a binge day, bought 10 and smoked them all, inbetween collecting kids, cooking tea and doing impressions of a grumpy taxi driver.

As He-who-must-be-adored is working 'lates' this week I should be able to avoid seeing him puffing most evenings which should make it easier. Surely?

Now I just need to learn to relax. In general. And, early enough after the little-one, gorgeous boy and the tweenager are a-bed so I can a-bed myself before midnight. Failed last night as waited up for He to return from saving London at 11.20pm. We talked over the big plan. A month into being 40 felt that's what we needed. Went to bed at 1am, slightly depressed at saying goodbye to my beloved fags, alongwith the realisation that the plan for this year is for us both to work like billio to reduce the debts, accumlated over my 5 year career break. (Break being the totally wrong word obviously.)

Now the little-one is ensconced in that institution called school I can work school hours. Will I ever be able to stop though?

So Ash Wednesday. Started on a the wrong foot with over-sleeping. Awoken by the tweenager shouting that she needed to leave for the bus in 10 minutes! This woke the little-one. Some mornings she wakes with a cheeky grin and a cuddle for me and I thank my lucky stars on having such wonderful off-spring. No such luck today.

The howling started in her bedroom. By the time she arrived beside me it had built to 1000 decibels. Screaming that the tweenager had ruined her really good dream. Oh the life of a 5 year old who can't get to bed early enough because her brother and sister have a life.

He-who-must-be-adored decided what was needed in this fractious moment was a lecture. On routines. On getting enough sleep. On respect for adults and I don't know what else becuase I couldn't hear it above the increasing howling. Its very tricky trying to do the morning personal stuff with a howling child attached to your leg, so no shower, no make-up, just a quick rinse around the gills. The promise of pancakes for breakfast gave me the breather to get dressed. This was deemed a great moment for a lecture on my parenting skills. But he's not the one with a howler attached to his leg.

Cheered the tweenager up with the promise of a lift on my way to work. Really it was just a ruse to escape the howling and lectures. In the midst of all the madness the gorgeous boy rose with a huge smile at the smell of pancakes.

Finally I have peace. In the office. Alone. Everyone out on calls, and with no post for two days I can finally set up a blog. Just been waiting to have one moment to have one un-interupted thought.

The ringing phones don't help, but at least there's no howls or lectures on the other end.Could kill for a fag