This morning I realised that Zoe has now somehow "acquired" a school coloured navy sloppy joe and a navy jacket that aren't hers. No name tags (silly parent!).. and in much better nick than hers - in fact they look new. Amazingly enough she also actually has hers this time. (It turned up at school after a few days, found out in the playground somewhere where she denied leaving it.) She also denies having brought home these nameless ones, so I guess they just appeared here by magic. I shake my head, resist the temptation to whack name tags on them, and pack them up to send back to school. (I mean, with no name tags, are the other 8/9 years olds going to be able to identify their own clothing?)

Marc, though, wants to know how on earth she managed to bring home two jackets that weren't hers - and questions her about it to the point that she is in tears. With all the time he has been away with work, he just hasn't been home enough to realise that some things are easier to just drop - otherwise you'd truly send yourself insane. He also reckons she is looking pretty frumpy in hers... which is true .. it's been handed down from eldest through middlest down to Zoe, and is looking pretty shabby. I tell him that I'm resisting buying her a new one, because I just know that it will end up in the dirt, and lost for days on end... And for the amount of days she will actually wear it, it seems pointless buying a new one for her to lose and find, and lose and find...

Alison has been making friendship bracelets in team colours for her rep team, but has been having 'difficulties' keeping track of them all. "I was sure I'd made more than that!" *sob, sob*.... Last night: "Hey, Mum, I found the first one I made on top of the TV! So I have more than I thought."..... And this morning I'm greeted with .... "Now I'm back down to five... I don't know where the other one is." And tears.

My response is callous. Something along the lines of 'tell someone who cares' may well have passed my lips. If I joined her on every emotional lost and found rollercoaster ride she takes I'd need a straightjacket. Half an hour later she's found it. In her dressing gown pocket. Marc tries to get in on the act here too... "I thought I told you to put them all in one place!" he says. "Why don't you put them all in one place?!"

He has no idea! She does attempt to do this, but will inevitably get sidetracked. She knows what she should do, we've nagged enough... but some things she has to figure out for herself... Her own time lost or wasted might be the only catalyst to make her a bit more responsible for her own stuff. If not, nothing is going to change her!

Clothes tags from a new purchase are all over the floor of the playroom. For heaven's sakes, they treat their bedrooms and playroom like a tip. Sherlock Mum deduces that seeing the tags refer to sleepwear that is kind of conclusive proof that it is from the new dressing gown bought for #1. "Caitlin! Come up here! NOW." She denies all knowledge of them. She didn't leave them there. Magic! *sighs* (She bloody well picked them up though.)

Clothes all over bedroom floor of #2 and #3. Again. Despite my rants.. and the requests for everything to be sorted either away in drawers, or in the wash... SO THAT EVERYTHING IS CLEAN FOR YOU TO PACK TO GO AWAY. "For god's sake, are these undies clean or dirty?!!!" ..... "Clean..."..... "Well, what the hell are they doing lying all over the bloody floor then?!"

There are also clothes still there that I'd dumped out for Zoe to try on to determine if they were too small, just right, or (as hand-me-downs) still too big. The kid is shooting up like a bean pole... it is like she is being stretched out like a plasticine figure, so that she gets skinnier as she gets taller, with the result that pants end up being too short but still fall off her waist. I am just crossing my fingers that she's got enough to wear at Grandmas, and try not to think about how she looked when she came home from the school disco yesterday, having changed into 'mufti' for their afternoon 'school dance'. I hope it was the hand-me-down black boots she was wearing (from a friend of #2's) that made the jeans look so short. Either that or she's grown 2 inches in two days. Heaven help me, Grandma is going to be tut-tutting about how I can't dress my own children adequately....

She comes down stairs and I tell her to hurry up and brush her hair. "But I have!" she wails. More tears when I grump about her inability to look after her own hair, despite having had her hair cut so that all she has to do is brush it. "And what are you going to do at Grandma's?" I lecture her every day about having to brush her hair during the day, but she never does.. (The other two were never this hopeless with their hair!)

When they all finally tumble out the door (running late, luckily Sideshow Dad is leaving at the same time...) I breathe a sigh of relief.. and make a beeline for the computer, cradling a cup of coffee.

I'm not sure if I'm the ringmaster (and doing a very bad job of it) or just the straight 'man' for the clowns.

.... Next session begins at approximately 3.30pm.

Meantime I have pre-trip washing and ironing... Thankfully the sun is appearing - it was looking rather glum out there for a while this morning, and I was about to start ranting about where my 'fine' forecast was. I just had the brilliant idea of leaving the kids' beds for one more night (after so many, what's one more?) - I can do their sheets in the few days they are not here next week! Pure genius.

I expect that with the packing panic tonight, and blast off scheduled for the morning, that I won't be back blogging till Tuesday. Enjoy your break!!

Labels: daily, kids, parenting