mothers on the verge

So, we're back after a gruelling six-hour drive yesterday from France to London, livened up by Alpha's effing and blinding, plus a few memorable incidences of him displaying his "naughty finger" (as Firstborn calls it) at passing motorists. Why is it that human beings of the male gender are incapable of driving for longer than 20 minutes without having a tantrum and abusing the drivers of other cars? Quite exhausting. The exploits in the back seat undertaken by Firstborn and the Small(er) One paled in comparison.

What a crappy week last week was. Seven days of stress-puppy annoyances all rolled into one nasty big fat week. I am aware that a lot of my posts recently amount to a little more than a mega-winge but so far January has been one big downer. Every year to date I have somehow managed to escape the dreaded January blues. In fact, I kind of dismissed it as a media construct, a psychological hype of a most plastic nature. I guess I was wrong. This angst-ridden January has been handed to me on a moody platter to teach me a lesson - 30-something years of overdue gloom come home to roost. But the outlook is brighter. By the end of the week it will be February and surely a magical mood change is in the offing. I hope so. I really do hope so. I am starting to bore myself.