Move away from the chocolate

I've been in a bad mood for the last couple of days and I'm not entirely sure why. It goes deeper than the usual PMT induced rage, I know that much. David and Mac (both of whom have done nothing out of the ordinary to annoy me) are living on Amber Alert - David keeps buying me chocolate and Mac has been drawing pictures of me with a permanent frown and steam coming out of my ears.

It's a general feeling that nothing is going right, frustration that the holiday wasn't as good as I thought it would be, being generally irritated by everyone and everything and the knowledge that my baby, my angel, my gorgous bundle of gorgeousness is starting primary school soon and soon will be dodging away from hugs, escaping kisses and won't let me call him Mackenzie Muffin for much longer.

So I've decided to vent. And where better but here where I know I'll get sympathy and understanding from lovely people and.....oh, oh, have I mentioned that I'm emotional? I cried at Mamma Mia on Friday night at this and Charlie had to go and get more napkins from the popcorn concession to stem the flow of tears. Actually, I also cried in Pizza Hut beforehand when a new waitress who was being shadowed by a colleague dropped an entire deep pan Farmhouse on her way to the first ever customer. Charlie, who works in a hospital and knows about these things, has diagnosed minor depression. What?

"You've got a lot on, Mac's about to start school, Amelia is about to descend on you, you're letting Marjorie Stewart dictate your life AND you're coping with PMT without the aid of wine gums - it's to be expected" she said as she waved her glass of Blossom Hill at me. I had to agree with her.

Mac and his obsession with primary school is wearing me out - it's almost as if he can't wait to leave me which I know is irrational but I can't help it. "It's not as if he's going up the Amazon" David keeps telling me and then rounds off each "soothing" comment with snippets from when Matthew first started school that don't really help. We bought his school uniform on Friday and he was so excited about it he wanted to keep it on until Daddy got home, which he did. David and I shared a moment on the doorstep as he was coming in and I was going out (Charlie has to have a drink in her hand by 6pm each night or she goes into meltdown) and my last instructions - "Go and take it off now and get into your jammies" - were answered with a heartfelt "Yes mummy, don't be late home!"

I got home at ten to ten to a sheepish David. When I went in to kiss a sleeping Mac goodnight I discovered him still in full uniform, including tie. "He wanted to keep it on" was the unhelpful comment. I seethed all night and woke up on Saturday morning to a tantrum of epic proportions. I finally wrenched the uniform off him at just gone twelve after threatening that he couldn't go to football wearing it. He and David departed and I spent the afternoon alternately crying and stomping about. Both came home happy and Mac hasn't mentioned his uniform once since. Which probably means he won't actually wear it now for fear that I'll shout and try to drag it off him.

My mother in law has hijacked a surprise few days away - David's boss has got a cottage in Fairlight which is just outside Hastings and I'm so jealous. However, Boss Man is lending it to us from Thursday of next week and for the whole of Bank Holiday weekend, not because he's a generous, caring individual because he's not but because he and his wife are going through a bitter divorce and, as he says, "if you're there, she can't be". Still, I'm not complaining. Or I wasn't until Amelia invited herself along. She rang while I was mid row on Saturday morning so I couldn't actually give a toss about it and just said "Oh for God's sake do whatever you want to do" before throwing the phone to David but, of course, I do now and am silently stewing. She, on the other hand, keeps ringing to ask if "they" have got bed linen there or does she have to pack her own.

On top of all this, Marjorie Stewart is, as Jane Opposite would put it, "getting right on my tits". She seems to think that I'm her Right Hand Woman in the fight to keep Belinda Hall off of "our" territory. I found out quite by accident when I bumped into Belinda last Wednesday in the chemist and she icily responded to my "hello!" with "Are you sure you should be talking to me? Your General might not like it". Ruby Over The Road filled me in on all the gossip - Marjorie is planning a full scale assault and will stop at nothing to ensure that The Avenue doesn't fall into the hands of "anyone unsuitable that doesn't even live in The Avenue" and I've been touted round the neighbourhood as her Aide De Camp.

And the wine gums? I realised I had an addiction to them when I panicked on discovering that my secret stash of the marvellous Maynards confection had fallen pray to the recent heat and had gone.....funny. Really panicked and rang David to insist he bring some in. So I've gone cold turkey. The Time Of The Month is not the best time to do this but I have to be strong. If Amelia passes just one comment on my need to have a packet about my person - or worse, asks for one - I may just have to push her off a cliff.