I’m having one of those evenings when I feel as though I’m most definitely losing at the whole parenthood game. The tedious bedtime battles continue and the longer the battle goes on for, the more wound up I get. Honestly, it’s like being a negotiator in one of those Hollywood hostage scenarios – I try every tactic I’ve seen in the films until one of them works. Pacifying. Ignoring. Engaging. Comforting. A combination of all four.
Some nights are fine – minimum hassle – but tonight has been particularly testing. I’ve had to hide behind a wall and shout-swear silently whilst kicking things. It doesn’t help that I’ve been away for six days and everything is a little bit out of sync. Angelica has a bad cold, I have a hormonal headache that could fell a rhino, Ted is particularly averse to putting his head down and going to sleep… Anyway, I didn’t mean to start on a bum note, but sometimes you have to vent! The amazing thing is that I missed them so, so much when I was away (it was a physical pain in my chest, I’ve never been away for longer than two nights before) but now that I’m here, sitting on the top landing with one foot inside Ted’s door (don’t ask) I can’t believe I didn’t make more of my evenings away. In that I didn’t actively appreciate them, like ooh, I’m going to dinner and I’m not so absurdly knackered I want to just lie down in the stre...