When I wasn't accepted into the then Rusden College's Literature and Drama Teaching course (I think I'm showing my age here) I saw that Year 12 English teacher as some kind of prophet.
Years and years and nappies and bottles of milk later, here I am, a stay-at-home-mum. I did become a teacher, worked in primary schools and as a teacher of the deaf, and became a so-called 'expert' in the acquisition and development of language (take that Mrs English Bitch) and despite the piece of paper with the squished red university stamp I'm here doing time at home with 5 kids and sometimes wondering how the hell I can get an early parole.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kids. I do. But they do my freaking head in. So in order to maintain a degree of sanity I present to you my rantings of a mad woman and the head spinning logics of children who demand I cut their milk.
|Me with #5, Scarlett.|