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Is it wine o'clock yet? The trials and tribulations of getting through the day as a working mum.

How are the summer holidays working out? We're three weeks in, and I have managed to not yet request a prescription for valium. Only because I couldn't get to the doctor even if I wanted to, because the whole school break has been spent in a stationary car, attempting to get to the beach, visit friends, or go to Argos for a gaudy lilo that'll burst 10 minutes after it's blown up. And not a stationary car with the soothing tones of a Radio 4 play while I snack on stuffed olives and drink a frothy coffee, naturally. More a stationary car with I Am The Music Man, Old MacDonald Had A Farm, and The Toothbrush Song on neverending repeat because the two-year-old screams insufferably without this specific mega-mix, while sat among bits of old Danish pastry and sticky patches of spilt apple juice.

The highlight of the six hour and 15 minute journey home from visiting a friend who might as well live in Tibet because we'd get home sooner, was my son being so desperate for a wee that he screamed like he was being beaten with a sharp stick for an hour, at a time when Keele Services felt further away than Saturn. His five-year-old bladder could cope no longer, so an entire wee happened and he sat in it for over an hour, after which we stopped for a soggy, overpriced cheese salad bap, and he got changed into the only other pair of shorts we had with us, which he'd also wee-d in earlier because he'd been playing with his friend and going to the loo would have taken 25 seconds of frisbee time away, but at least they were drier than the recently wee-d in pair.

Then we spent PS2 on a Bob The Builder ride that moved half an inch forwards and backwards and made even the two year old go, 'Seriously, how lame is this?' (at least that's what her face said) before getting back in the car and pointing at planes some more ('That one is going to England, Mummy.' 'We're in England.' 'No we're not, we're on the motorway,' etc). Honestly, I'm practically Joan Collins mooring up her mega yacht next to P Diddy in Monte Carlo, so glamorous is the way I travel these days.

Name: Lara Kilner

Lives: A northerner in Brighton

About me: Mum to a shouty five year old and a fast-moving two year old. Along with going to work and getting annoyed with my husband for leaving his pants on the floor, there isn't much time for anything else.


Train trips where they lean over the chair behind and pull an old lady's hair, or throw bits of soggy rice cake at an unimpressed goth.

Bus journeys where they stare non-stop at someone who hates kids, then make it worse by pointing at them, and laughing hysterically.

Car journeys when they ask if you're there yet as you turn out of your own road, and your destination is 179 miles away.


Are we nearly there yet? I need the loo are we nearly there yet?

Pictures: Getty.

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Title Annotation:Features; Review
Publication:Sunday Mirror (London, England)
Date:Aug 7, 2016
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