It's raining, it's pouring...am I the only one who cares?

I hate the rain. I don't just find it mildly irritating, or even very annoying, I actually hate it with a passion. My whole mood is reflected by the grey, miserable cloud covering everything.

Take today. Its the first rain we've had in what?... weeks I guess. It wasn't a lot of rain, it drizzled rather than poured, and had stopped by about 930am. But it's ruined the day for me. I'm feeling really down in the dumps, and have reverted back into 'winter mode'- curled up on the sofa with a mug of tea. All I want to do is sleep, and wake up again when the sky is blue and the sun is shining. When I'll have a lot more patience with my children and my husband. I am blaming my husband for today's rain as he keeps moaning that he has to water the garden. He is therefore solely responsible for this, and any subsequent rain we get.

Irrational I know, but I can't help it. I really do hate the rain. I just wish my children did too.

But it doesn't seem to bother them in the slightest. This morning I was not happy because I didn't have the car, so we had to walk to school. I apologised to Presley about this, she looked at me like I was insane and said "It doesn't matter Mummy, we'll only get wet." This is true, and that is the problem. I hate getting all wet and soggy. Feeling the drizzle on my face, splashing through puddles and then having to dry copious raincoats and covers just gets me down. I actually loathe going out in the rain so much that I have seriously contemplated not taking Presley to school on several occasions owing to inclement weather. I only still do because I know she'd never let me hear the end of it if I didn't.

Orson hates the raincover on the pushchair... not because he doesn't like being shut in, but because he thinks the feel of rain on his face and hair is hilarious. He nearly combusted this morning when I said it was raining. he had his Buzz lightyear wellies on and was standing by the front door holding his raincoat, and had an enormous strop when I told him he was going in the pushchair. I don't have time for him to walk to school anyway, let alone stopping every few yards for him to splash in a puddle. The rain cover was kicked off at least 5 times on our journey this morning. I wouldn't bother but Chester is in the back of the buggy and looks mildly perplexed by the feeling of rain, and I don't want a wet and soggy baby with a cold.

Presley insisted on sandals for school. She is in 'summer mode' and so won't hear of going back into her shoes, and was disgusted with me for wearing jeans today instead of shorts. She seems to have developed a bad case of selective hearing again, as my shrieks of 'Don't jump in the puddles in your sandals' went unheard. How odd.

When I stop and think about it rationally, my phobia of rain could be described- at best- as slightly silly (at worst- downright idiotic.) On very wet winter days, when the kids are climbing the walls after being shut in all day, I'll sometimes bite the bullet and take them out puddle jumping. The joy on their faces as they leap up and down soaking everything within a 10ft radius always makes me realise that I should have taken them out earlier in the day, rather than staying in waiting for it to stop. Children just don't care if they have water in their wellies, or if their hair goes frizzy, they love the fact that there is pools of water everywhere for them to jump in and over.

When Presley was just 3 we had a run of lovely spring weather. I was very pregnant with Orson at the time and trying to do as many special things with her as possible before I was due. I promised her that we would go to the park for a picnic. The day was arranged, I took her to the supermarket and let her choose whatever food she wanted for us. The day came, and after weeks of warm sunny weather, we woke to see that it was grey, wet and miserable. I sadly told Presley that we couldn't go, that we'd have to have our picnic at home instead. She broke her heart and begged and pleaded with me to still take her. I gave in. She always has that effect on me. We donned wellies, raincoats and gloves (it really was that cold) and off we went.

I hate to admit it but I was glad we did go. We had a brilliant time. The entire park was deserted apart from the hardiest of dog walkers. We had all the play equipment to ourselves, and we ate our picnic in the bandstand. Yes, we were soaked to the skin. Yes, we had very wet and cold bottoms from the swings and the slide and yes, my hair looked ridiculous. But we were happy. Presley still talks about it now and always says what fun it was. And it was.

It has to be said though, the best bit was getting home and curling up together with a mug of hot chocolate.

But we did dry out... eventually.

Questions... who knows the answers?

One thing motherhood brings with it is endless questions.

Questions the children ask; "why?" and "whats that?" being the current favourites of Orson.

Questions other people ask; "Does that little girl over there belong to you?" My answer usually starts with "Why, what's she done?" before I admit to actually owning her.

And questions we ask ourselves "Should I have let them do that?" "Can I afford it?" "Why are they being like this?!"

To some questions the answer is a simple yes, no or because I say so. But other questions seem to me to have no answer. I have attempted to list some below. If anyone can come up with a definitive answer, or just a witty retort please post!!

1. Why do small children see nostrils and nappies as the ideal places to store small objects?

2.Do any other TV channels exist during the day other than cbeebies or playhouse Disney?

3. How do children instinctively know when you have a headache, and choose then to unleash their noisiest behaviour?

4. Do you think the creators of Thomas the Tank Engine knew all small boys would end up saying 'F***ing Roller' instead of Fat Controller? Did they do it just to embarrass hundreds of parents?

5.How do you keep a straight face when your 5 year old tells you she wants a hamster and wants to call it faggy wanky????!!!!

6. Why does the phrase "keep the sand in the sandpit please" mean the complete opposite?

7. How can you serve a meal up one week and have it all eaten, yet serve it up again another week and no-one likes it?

8. Is there anything children won't do for the promise of sweets/cake/chocolate?

9. Has the naughty step ever worked for anyone? I put mine on it just so I get a couple of minutes peace.

10.Is Mr Justin Tumble actually human? Why do small children either love him or loathe him? There is no middle ground. He is the marmite of children's TV.

11.Why are purses, kitchen cupboards, handbags and makeup bags an endless source of fascination?

12. Are all girls born with an attitude problem?

13. How do kids stand in the paddling pool or sea shivering and turning blue, but still refuse to get out, telling you they're fine?

14. Why- when you've just told the nice old lady in Sainsburys that yes your children are good most of the time- do they either have a tantrum, pick their nose or start fighting with each other?

15. Does every wash load have to contain at least one odd sock? I'm sure they were all pairs when they went in...

16. How many times is it possible to fake laugh at the joke "Why did the chicken/goat/elephant (delete as appropriate) cross the road?" "To get to the shop to buy chicken/goat/elephant food"



17. Does anyone else laugh when their children fall off furniture? To me there is something quite hilarious about Orson falling off the back of the sofa.

18. Is it considered acceptable to go and do the weekly food shop with baby sick on your shoulder and chocolate smeared on your trousers, and to hum 'Bob the Builder' whilst pushing the trolley?

19. Does anyone else love the park because they get to have a go on the equipment with the kids?... No? Oh. Just me then.

20. And, does anyone else like to hide in the laundry basket to scare the kids as they come upstairs? No? Oh dear. I need help.

Chester

My lovely Chester. What to say? He's small. He's sick a lot. That's about it.



Not really. OK, so his full name is Chester William Paul Fuller. William is my Dad's name and Paul is Mark's brother. Chester arrived early, on 22nd January this year. The others were two weeks late, he was ten days early. I was not ready. In my head I had nearly 4 weeks before the baby came. The sledging and constant trudging up and down to school to take Presley to the toilet may have had something to do with his early arrival, but anyway I was immensely proud of him. When we arrived home reality set in. Presley had told her class she would bring him for show and tell. So he was born on the Friday, Monday morning I'm showing him to a class of 4 and 5 year olds.

Its funny how one (seemingly) small addition to a family can make such a huge difference. Chester is very sick, and so gets through an average of 2 complete changes of clothes, 2 sets of p.j's and about 8 bibs a day. Couple that with Presley's clothes and it will come as no surprise to hear that I do 3 loads of washing a day minimum. Then there's the feeds. How can I get 3 children washed, dressed and fed and all be out the house for 8:30. when a small person is stuck onto me? Chester did the school run in his pyjamas for over a month. Looking back now, those first few weeks were insane. I had also agreed to do a play, so was rehearsing 3 times a week for that. I would feed Chester, drive like a madwoman to rehearsals, then drive back as quickly as possible to feed him again. (Glad I did it though 'cause the play was flippin fantastic!)

Chester quickly understood that we don't do night waking in our house, so however mental the days were we did all get a good nights sleep. And then suddenly, you're out the other side. One day Chester found his thumb and a security blanket. He's been virtually mute ever since! He does cry when he's really rattled about something, or when Orson sits on him but generally he is good as gold.

Everyday is wonderful with Chester. I love looking at his little un-assuming face. So wide-eyed and completely relying on me to feed him, keep him warm and to protect him. In fact, I love so many things about him that I couldn't even begin to list them all! The way he puts his hands on either side of my face and tries to kiss me, the way he bounces up and down with happiness when Mark comes home from work or how he squeals with excitement when Presley or Orson play with him... I could go on and on!

He is growing up so fast, he's only 5 months but can nearly sit un-aided, and is on 3 solid meals a day (GP's advice to try and stop the sickness. It hasn't worked!) I looked at him feeding this morning and thought If I breastfeed him til 9 months like I did with the others, that only gives me 4 more months. And that makes me sad. But then there is so much to look forward to, the first word, the first steps and so much more.

This our party of five... now its time to begin our journey together through life. It won't always be easy, and there will be times when we may resent each other or feel like the odds are stacked against us. But our deep love for each other will keep us together. May the good times always outweigh the bad.