I replace the ‘f yous’ with – ‘boc boo, boc boc boooooos’ you see, I pretend that he is singing about chickens,

Unfortunately, our favourite song at the moment is (turn away dad) actually entitled ‘f*ck you’ by Gnarles Barkley. Unfortunate title for PG rating reasons. When it comes on in the car in the morning, I am instructed to “turn it up, mummy!” which I do, I cave in to the peer pressure…….and hurriedly sing along in my loudest singing voice EVER, with the biggest, slightly scary smile on my face, swaying in my seat, replacing the ‘f yous’ with – ‘boc boo, boc boc boooooos’ you see, I pretend that he is singing about chickens, and they genuinely (I think, although they are always looking at me with vague and slightly disbelieving faces) think it is in fact, a song about chickens!

Do you know what? I am sat here, having just made myself a hot chocolate (doubled up on the recommended choc quantity too) and chowing down on crisps. Well, when the husband’s away, and all that. All on my tod I reckon I deserve it, I need something to keep me going whilst in charge of all this lot after all….! Unbelievably, it is still raining, getting in the car proves amusing. The drill is as follows; I look out of the front door with my hand up- kids wellied and raincoated up- “wait, wait, wait for it….NOW!, GO! GO! GO!" I scream at the troops, they sprint as if their life depends on it. We make it to the car and quite often I- “sh*t, f*ck, sorry kids, forgot the keys, pull back, PULL BACK!” we retreat, and I start the whole process again, keys on my person this time. I am dreadful with losing/forgetting things. I tidy non-stop, I think that is half my problem. I have ‘special places’ where I put things. I remember thinking at the times I do it, “ this is such a random place to put (ie the keys) that I am bound to remember…..” and funnily enough, I never do. I rarely ever find the things ever again, as indeed, yes, the place I put them was so entirely random. Suffice as to say: anything that goes missing in the house, I am without doubt, the culprit. No ‘innocent till proven guilty’ in this house. Straight up, ‘guilty’, me, always. Even when I really am not. It reminds me of the time last year, before we got our 7 seater (a total necessity btw with all this lot), we needed to go out, highly and lowly we searched for the keys, 3 days later, when we had turned everything out and not left the house, literally, still no show. You can imagine how angry my husband was, at me! I really was so sure this time that it wasn’t me though. We had to have the car towed to the garage, the key series replaced at a vast expense. Whilst the car was in the garage, we asked them to give us a rough estimate on some work that needed doing, turns out it was more than the car was worth, and we had to write the car off, after having paid for the key replacements, the towing etc. That night I decided to change our bed sheets, and pling! The car key falls on the floor as I lift off the fitted sheet…….but you see, ha ha, it wasn’t my fault after all!

I am pretty angry at my chickens at the moment, I don’t mind saying, well I hear they can’t read so….. I have been nurturing them for over a month now, loving them, welcoming them, building them homes, protecting them from kids/animals alike, and I still, still have no eggs. It feels a little weird being angry at chickens, but all the same, surely that’s what they are there for? Tomorrow’s another day, as they say, now I’m off to bed, what a day………!