Let me tell you about the last hour in my house... I'm cleaning upstairs, with very little enthusiasm because I'm off to Barcelona with my girlfriends in two days, so don't really care if my children have to live in their own croissant crumbs and yoghurt drips, when there is a huge crashing sound and the most ear piercing scream from Toby, followed by complete shouting hysterics.
Oh my god!! I race down the stairs at a million miles an hour, nearly went to Barcelona on crutches...to find that a bird has come down the chimney and is flying round Toby's head. He is apoplectic with fear, and the poor bird looks close to a heart attack. I rescue Toby, put him in another room, then attempt to catch the bird.
Whilst I am doing this, unbeknownst to me Lacey takes in a delivery, yes, the delivery driver let a 7yr old sign for it. Blissfully unaware of this, I catch the bird and throw it out the window as my phone rings. It's the local council offering the children a place on their Easter Camp. As I'm giving the lovely lady all the information she needs, and assuring her that my daughter is no trouble at all and very independent, my daughter comes in.
She is dragging my newly delivered, molten gold, fully sequined ballgown that I ordered for the Áirc Spring Ball (great night, you should all come). At the end of the ballgown hanging on by her teeth is the dog....I snatch the dress off them both whilst still on the phone, at which point my "no trouble at all" daughter starts to scream like something from the exorcist, that its her dress and she wants it back NOW!!
I quickly end the phone conversation whilst there's still a chance my children wont be banned from the Easter Camp, and I shout. Loud. Louder than I ever have before. The only one that took any notice was the dog.
I need gin. Straight. And I need it now.