My son had a major meltdown at his school assembly yesterday because I was five minutes late.
Because I wasn't there when he had to say his line, he refused to say it, Lucky's daughter saying it for him.
When I arrived he came up to me and cried and cried and cried.
"I want you mummy, don't leave me mummy, take me home mummy."
He didn't want to go back into the playground, didn't want to go back into class, didn't want me to go to the school association meeting later on. Major Meltdown I tell you.
"It's been a hard week for him," said his class teacher, whose support I needed because my son was clinging onto me like a baby chimp.
A hard week yes. His dad bought him home late on Sunday and unfed so by the time I cooked my son a meal it was way late and he was shattered Monday when I picked him up from school (a text row followed that with the Foca telling me I was 'playing a blame game' and me telling him 'I don't have time for that.')
My son hadn't wanted to come home to me. "I wanted to stay with daddy," he said Sunday night. Ouch... "I know, all this is very hard for you. In an ideal world what would happen?" "In an ideal world you'd be together mummy."
I was five minutes late to assembly but last week I didn't turn up to the Open Day at all. An afternoon to look at all his work, I hadn't written it down on the calender and slept through the appointment.
He didn't think I'd come, that's why he clung. Neither parent was there, that's where the tears came from.
He would have refused to go to Beavers had I not said I was helper outer that evening.
All better for now, we've talked.
I bashed out the guilt at Boot Camp.
I've got to get with the programme. I can deal with the pressure from the council and be a mother to my child.
I can I can I can I can I can I can I can I can I can I can I MUST.