It's Wednesday and I'm moaning.....

I've never liked Wednesdays - never. Even as a child I hated them with a passion - they're a "nothing" day (and I had double maths and single history on a Wednesday at secondary school). They're middle of the week, not quite Thursday with that "oh it's Friday tomorrow thank God" feeling, nor Friday with that "ooh, it's the weekend tomorrow!" vibe. When I once mentioned this to David he looked at me for a good few seconds before saying "well, of course Wednesdays aren't Thursdays or Fridays - that's why they're called Wednesdays." Grrr.

The reasons for my grumpiness today are as follows:

I got very little sleep last night thanks to the sleepover. Far from wearing the boys out at Keston Lakes, I succeeded in only wearing myself out to the point of exhaustion. Ben decided, at tea time, that he hates baked beans. I know for a fact that he loves baked beans. Mac therefore decided he hated them too. I stood staring at the plates of sausage, mash and baked beans and tried not to scream. Both boys weren't tired at their bedtime (8pm on non-school nights) but were over-tired by five past. As a result of this, giggles could be heard emanating from Mac's room along with "kabooms" and "bangs" as they played some sort of game that involved Ben using a very bad American accent and the need for me to pretend that they were both invisible. David, predictably, slept through it all.

Breakfast this morning was far more imaginative than they usually are. Ben eats porridge for breakfast and, knowing that Mac won't touch the stuff, Rosie thoughtfully provided some for me. Mac stuck to toast and regarded the thick gloopy stuff suspiciously. Ben created towns and roads in his porridge bowl, aided by a few handily placed blueberries. We dropped Ben home at just before 12noon and Mac misses him already. I told him that he'd be spending the whole day with his big brother tomorrow and he was quiet for about ten seconds before asking me if tomorrow could be today. I know how he feels.

Before we left the house, I opened my emails and found out that Gibbon Road post office is one of those earmarked for closure - this is ridiculous. That's my closest post office, ever since they closed the one on Nunhead Green. Chuntering madly about Government officials not taking a blind bit of notice about the local community and the fact that elderly people now have to go miles in order to find a post office, I waved my hand out in irritation and knocked my cup of coffee everywhere - the keyboard has only just dried but the "p" and the "l" are sticking. Ben learnt some new words too - was rather concerned that Mac paid little or no notice to my outburst. Am a dreadful mother/responsible (!) adult.

On our way back from Ben's I turned left to go round Nunhead Green, past the Sally Army HQ, on the one-way street to Kirkwood Road. And got stuck behind a belching refuse cart. Now, I know these gentlemen have work to do and are doing us all a service by not leaving us to rot in our own rubbish but they have no sense of community. There were at least three places that they could have pulled into but no, they stood in the middle of the road as I fumed behind the wheel. "Be with you in a minute love" one said to me as he wielded a green bin. Five minutes later I managed to pass them. By the time I got home, steam was coming out of my ears. And found Ben's overnight bag sitting in the hall where I'd left it.

Still. Am feeling better now after my moan. Mac is already "bored" and wants to "do something exciting like making a cake, please, canwe-canwe-canwe, pleeeeeeeeeeeease mummy". I can hear him rummaging around my cake tin cupboard exclaiming "cool!" in a bad American accent.

Ben must have left it behind with his PJs.