But, you see, the problem is that I keep thinking that change is easy and inevitable.
It isn't.
One can easily get stuck in some crappy rut where it's very difficult to crawl out again.
I sincerely thought - and please don't call the authorities now because I'm clearly displaying a severely below average intelligence and should not be mothering any children - I sincerely thought that we would all be different when we moved to the new home.
Had all my hopes pinned on this.
And with 'different', I mean good-different, not bad-different.
Meanwhile back at the ranch though, Son#1 is slowly but surely turning into a responsible, kind and enjoyable boy, whilst Son#2 has turned into - and I'm trying to be kind and fair here - Satan.
Yesterday, his litany of sins included: Scratching a new DVD beyond recognition - on purpose, breaking a wooden stool (ahem, on purpose again), chucking rocks at the windows and at his brother, swearing several times and had to eat soap (old school mothering, not effective yet), breaking two toy cars, sticking his tongue out and screaming at me several times, leaving a nice clean-up job for me in the WC although he's perfectly capable of using it like a big boy, not following a single instruction thrown at him. Not one.
Needn't even add that he did all these things on purpose.
I'm sure that even Anton LaVey himself was kinder to his mother.
Anyway, Son#2 was sent to bed with a few red bum cheeks. Mother was put on a wine-drip, and calmed down eventually.
I spent the evening looking at photos from our great holiday in France last year in the summer, hoping to feel kind and loving again.
And finally, I did.
Even gave the little demon a kiss good-night.
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