So I’m totally winning at this domestic goddess stuff. I say winning… maybe it depends on your perspective. The kids are fed and clean, the house doesn’t smell too bad and there’s only 2 loads of laundry to get done… That’s a win right there. 

The other side of the coin – I’m losing at parenting. However you look at it, I’m failing. Big fat, failing failures from here to there, from can to can’t. Failing. 

The last few days have been a rollercoaster. I tend to stay away from here on my worst days as no one wants to read the daily crap I have to go through. I post up what I can, sometimes I can make it interesting or funny or something. Other times.. there’s no way of turning it from a big chunk of shit into anything else. You can’t polish a turd. And sometimes that’s mine and my children’s life. It stinks but there it is, we make the best of it.

Back to yesterday. The 10 year old does a runner. Jumps out the window as I’m locking doors, anticipating the runner but not quite getting there quick enough. She’s gone for an hour. Her brother finds her and brings her home. I have to physically restrain her while her big brothers empty her room. It’s down to basics again. Bed, lamp, table. Nothing with which to harm herself or anyone else. She’s out of control. Biting, kicking, hitting, clawing, scratching, hissing. 

She gets shut in her room. For her safety, and ours. She’s kicked the 3 year old, booted him in the side, pushed over the 6 year old, attacked every other brother and I. Four hours and numerous reappearances, (we can’t just leave her no matter what) screaming the whole while, me getting screws that’s she’s managed to prise out of the bed slats off her, she’s scratched her face so it bleeds, she’s attacked me every time I go in, banging the wall, pulling her hair out, kicking the bed, floor, wall, window, she’s sat on the windowsill “entertaining” a group of boys, trying get them to help her, I’m scared she’s out of her mind, no calming down, no chilling out, just anger and utter, utter madness. 

4 hours. I go up. I take a drink up. We give her pyjamas, tell her to go to sleep. We open the door and put some drawers in front of it. Open because this is not a prison. Drawers because I’m worried for our safety. 

Hell on Earth is your child losing whatever faculties they have. I’ve seen the doctor, we have an urgent referral to CAMHS. That’s it, that’s all the help they could offer. 

I’m failing. 

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