What horrible children

... I think I have PMS.

Also, they are both slightly but not wholly poorly, and Linnea has a very dodgy tummy, which explains her being horrible somewhat. We went out today before I committed acts of violence. And to a charity shop, where I bought jeans which fit and have no holes in, for £3.49, and a red mini-Boden duffle coat age 9-10 for £4.49, which I am wearing myself right now, trying to decide whether the sleeves really are too short or not. It's very cheerful. I think it's a teeny weeny bit too small, sadly, so will have to wait for a child.

Today I must go grocery shopping and perhaps sort some of the children's clothes out of boxes into charity bags. I also need to come to some sort of decision about bleaching or binning the badly discoloured white garments, mainly long-sleeved tops. Long sleeves do get into things, and go grey.

I'd feel so much better with something small and helpless to rend limb from limb. Bonus points for fluffy, too.

My poor children

I need to work out what to do about this PMT thing. They don't deserve my temper. Though it feels like it, when I've been bitten and headbutted half the night and kicked half the morning.

A man at the market this evening said "Oh, how lovely, I'd love to stay at home with the kids all day." I said "Come to my house at 4 am, you'll be welcome."