I have decided to amass an emergency fund. Reality of my predicament hit when the people carrier came back shiny, undented and requiring payment of the excess. I do not have excess funds in my bank account, so have had to reassure the children that you can survive without food for 14 days. They remain unconvinced. I now have a total of £68 in my bank account. It really is a sorry state of affairs.
On a positive note, the third party insurers have rushed through a cheque and so the children will only have to survive for the five days it takes to clear. With frugality in mind, I coasted to school in Bradford on Avon. The flashing in car petrol counter told me that there are 14km until empty, so I should get one more school run out of it. I feel like a student.
It feels as if my life is going full cycle. When I was 17 and had left home, 'It' never had enough money to visit me. I used to have to give him £2 in petrol money just for him to prove his love. It set a pattern - he did what I told him and if he didn't, he wouldn't. Perhaps it should have occurred to me that if I was having to pay someone to visit, then perhaps I was deluding myself.
I had a compliment today. Apparently I am a determined woman with a fearsomely intelligent. I am now best friends with the person that said it. Since he was not offering me a job, I thought that it could be a good time to point out that I was rather good at cleaning. He said that he couldn't take the abuse. It seems that I can't even get a job cleaning. This is what children do to you. Forget about your southern aspect bosom, your bottom, or your sanity - when you realise the penalty is that you can't even clean someone else's mess, it does make you ponder the decision. Perhaps I could clean if I promised never to speak.
Child Two was issued with an educational statement this week. It was as worthless as anticipated and took over a year to get. That is the thing about bureaucracy, it takes forever to gain nothing and tells you what you already knew. The should give me the job, "Can your child read?" I would ask, "No" would be the reply. "I guess they need help then" would be my response. All done and dusted within a matter of moments. Still, the reality is that if you take a year, then you have a years worth of saving in your pocket. The other reality is that they ask "Can your child read?" and you reply "No" and they say "That is within our expectation of normal" and you go home and cry.
Tomorrow is D-day for the teenager. An interview at Bristol Grammar. Finally, after years of misery in a school that annihilates really gifted children - he has a window of opportunity to turn his life around. So desperate to go to a school where they actively encourage learning that he has even taken the polyester blazer wearing on the chin. I am praying that he is offered a place. i am also praying that the fact that I only ever go to church for funeral, wedding or Christmas day will be in my favour - I can hardly be accused of abusing the request system.
So, one child that is too bright, one that can't spell and two more that are showing signs of equal quirkiness. Is it really to much to ask for a normal life? All I ever wanted was a picture book family, every one happy, winters around a roaring fire, family breakfast, happy children. Let me see so far - dysfunctional and then broken family. I guess I have really screwed up.