While Eyjafjallajokull, which I hope I have spelled properly but cannot pronounce, continues to spew ash into an already carbon-rich atmosphere, I have been having my own last-minute, post-holiday panics and explosions. I exploded all over the boys, and ended up making a chart for them to collect (and lose) computer-time minutes for chores (and wicked deeds). I have had minor surgery ('tied my tubes' as much discussed previously), and am feeling sort of constipated, which is probably why I'm writing such long sentences.
Sean is supposed to fly in on Friday morning, and if Eyjafjallajokull tries to prevent flights at that time, I will personally go up there and kick some Icelandic Volcano ass.
Meanwhile, I am really trying to get a newsletter funded, published and printed in a month's time, and I'm looking for 'Real' freelance writing jobs that pay money (any suggestions, websites, gratefully appreciated), have been parenting three boys on my own for over two months (ooohhhh, they need their daddy on Friday!) and have a list of things to do which keeps getting longer: cross off one thing, two pop up. That's the problem with holidays, you spend two weeks having fun and then go 'OH MY EXPLODING VOLCANO GOODNESS!' Because the emails, and the stuff, and the volcano ash which is coming in and sneakily ashing everything, you know.
Tomorrow I might write something sensible, as would befit a Real Freelance Writer. For now, you can visit GNM Parents, and read some sensible advice about how to get kids to sleep in their own beds, and why it's not a disaster if they don't.