Pew Diving

The Christmas holidays started with a bang, literally, when James decided he couldn't take any more carols and took a nose dive off the back of our pew at St Martins and landed face-first on the concrete floor. Turning puce, he took an enormous breath in - just enough time for me to scrape him off the tiles and sprint for the door before the inevitable howl of pain. Fortunately no harm done other than a serious trout pout for a couple of days (seriously squidgy goodnight kisses).

Since then, things haven't improved...Term-time is when I work, play and socialise but the holidays are a different ball game. Having both boys home has been a serious shock to the system, probably because William's started school so in the week the boys don't see each other very much and so now they're suddenly thrown together 24/7. I seem to spend most of the day breaking up constant fights, pulling Will up for being rude, trying to ignore/diffuse James' whinging and preventing either the house falling down around me, or being buried under a mountain of laundry.

I've been SO TIRED. Seriously. It's possible. How, I can't remember but I feel like a zombie. I really need to recalibrate my brain to get round another 10 days of this. Must remember that we're going back to Sussex for Christmas and the boys will have lots to keep them busy and out of mischief. It's horrible being cross and grumpy all the time.

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