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Isn’t it awful when you just know its going to be “one of those days”? Right from the moment you wake up, and blearily survey the sight of your youngest leaping around on the bed next to your poor, addled head, you just know it.

It’s even worse when you’re right. And I was absolutely bang on the money with my guess this morning. It’s only 11 o clock, but it already seems like centuries ago that I woke up. Ugh.

It started with problems with the website. That was the first ‘tearing hair out’ moment this morning. Combined with existing stress over difficult client that I’m working with (freelance writing), who seems to think its ok to pay $1 per 100 words then expect everything to be done yesterday.

As I was attempting to juggle dealing with these issues (at 8:20am), DB1 came strolling up very gently, and placed a hand on my arm. It felt a bit strange, a bit powdery, but at that point, I didn’t make any connection.

‘Mummy,’ he said quietly. ‘I think you need to come and see what DB2 has done.’

‘Oh no,’ I muttered wearily. ‘What has he done?’

I knew the answer before I even got a response, as I surveyed the smear of bread flour that DB1’s hand had deposited on to my skin. The bread flour that I had thought was safely pushed to the back of the unit, for me to cook later. Obviously not quite as out of reach as I’d thought then.

I exhaustedly allowed myself to be pulled into the playroom by my son and surveyed the damage.

In summary – DB2 had emptied out an entire kilo bag of bread flour on to the floor. Yet somehow, it seemed to go beyond just a flour emptying. If I hadn’t been able to rationalise that such a thing wasn’t possible, I would have more speculated that a bomb, filled to the brim with flour had been left in the middle of the room and then allowed to detonate.

The carpet was a snowy mess of it. The futon sofa was covered. The cushions, completely whitened. The toys, barely visible under the heaps of it. It was everywhere.

I don’t feel I need to explain at this precise moment in time how utterly, completely pissed off I was. Especially as this was at EXACTLY THE SAME TIME AS I WAS DUE TO TAKE DB1 to PRE-SCHOOL. I duly shut DB2 in the ‘naughty porch’ (yes, yes, we know its normally a ‘naughty step’, but he won’t stay on it, so we have to physically restrain him in a porch) and frantically tried to hoover up the worst of it.

After dropping DB1 off to pre-school, I thought I’d take DB2 to the library. Perhaps the heat was getting to him, I speculated charitably. Perhaps a nice cooling read in the library would help.

Hmm.

The visit to the library simply consisted of this.

1) DB2 running out the door repeatedly, to the point where I ended up having to do a rugby style take-down on him to stop him legging it out of the entire building and on to the road.

2) DB2 throwing books off the shelf.

3) DB2 nicking toys off the other kids there, who, to my distinct envy, were sitting there quietly playing.

The piece de resistance though, the real cherry on the cake, was his parting shot; after I’d given up and tethered him back into the buggy.

4) DB2 seized a 6ft tall cardboard display, containing DVDs, and pulls them over the floor. About 100 of them. You can imagine the scene. I’m sure I don’t have to paint too vivid a picture. The stunned silence that suddenly falls on the room, as the deafening clatter of huge amountd of DVDs tumbling to the ground finishes. The disapproving looks from the other mums. My red face as I attempt to scrabble desperately at the DVDs to get them back on the stand as swiftly as possilble.

I left, still red faced, and made it about ten minutes down the road, before realising that DB2 wasn’t wearing his hat anymore. The swearing started at about this point, as I remember.

So yes, we did the usual ‘retracing of the steps’, trying to discover where the f*** the damned hat was, with me thinking ‘please don’t let it be in the library, I don’t want to have to go back in there etc etc.’

Of course, that was precisely where it was. After fifteen minutes searching, I found it, stuffed in between two books, on a shelf. Thanks DB2. Thanks a lot for that one. And yes, the same mums were still there, still giving me disapproving looks.

‘It’s not my fault!’ I felt like howling. ‘He’s completely out of control…there’s nothing I can do!’

Anyway. All that had happened by 10am. Impressive, eh!

As for fasting – my goodness, it is a struggle in the heat! I thought it would be easier, as I’m quite a lot less hungry normally, when its hot. But I’m finding it tough not to get really shaky and exhausted by the end of the day. Argh!

However – we discovered a very tasty meal last night that is very well suited to fasting – beef tomatoes stuffed with rice, emmental and mushrooms. Apparently only 250cals per tomato. Result!

It’s dead easy – just slice the tops off the tomatoes and scoop out the insides, chopping them into small pieces. (keep that bit)

Then cook some rice, and at the same time, fry a chopped onion and some chopped mushrooms for about 5 mins. Then add the innards of the tomatoes and reduce down (about ten mins, which should tie in nicely with the rice being ready.)

Mix the rice in with the tomatoes, onion and mushroom, add a tsp of paprika, and about 80g of grated emmental. Mix it all together, stuff the tomatoes with it, then wallop in the oven for 15 mins. It’s very very tasty!

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