Its difficult to know what to write in a blog. Today is a day, where even though I have been active since 6 am, I am finishing the day exactly where I started. But with superglue on my teeth.I have the luxury usually, of a couple of child free days a week, where Rachel goes to her dad, and I am spared identifying with sisyphus, trying to get the most mundane tasks done with a two year old in tow. My dire financial situation means that this week, this isnt the case. We started with sorting stuff out for the ebay sale, which is hopefully going to prevent me starving to death next week. By the time Rachel was wearing my wedding dress, a pair of stilettos, several necklaces, and proudly declaring she was a queen, common sense informed me that this was a task best left till those precious hours after bedtime.The realisation that the house I never stop tidying, was possibly in the kind of state that would warrant my old colleagues paying me a visit with serious public health concerns, and concerns about Rachels welfare, led me to the very unwise decision that I could clean it today.Cue a discussion with a two year old stating that she was the best person to tidy her own bedroom, and teh threats of temper eruptions, which make Naomi Campbell look zen, resulting in(as battles of wills with toddlers often do) my defeat, and Rachel going off to tidy said room. The ominous silence that fell over the house, while she undertook this task, was used gratefully by me, to transform my disgusting kitchen into something that one would not be afraid to cook in. THe excited squeals of ‘mummy I finished’, accompanied by a sinking stomach, and the realisation that all Rachels clothes(clean and dirty) were in her tent, all her dolls house furniture was now in the bath, her books were helpfully spread over the top floor of the house(you will be able to see which one you want to read for stories mummy…), and a dubious wet patch, was noted, with the explanation that the baby doll had weed on the floor, and she couldnt have possibly done it, because she is a big girl who uses the toilet now. The question of why there was shredded toilet paper all over the bedroom floor, was met with incredulous looks, as she explained patiently that it had been snowing.Happy that despite two hours of activity, the house was in exactly the same state as it had been when I started, I felt that a trip out was necessary. As my financial resources are..ahem limited, a trip to the housing benefit counter(conveniently placed in the library, next to the kids section) and a trip to the post office beckoned. RAchel clearly felt that the dusty old post office was not a place for children, and every time we neared the front of the queue, she legged it, in the style of Roadrunner- meaning said place in queue was lost, until this process had been repeated 3 times, and a woman sensed my impending nervous breakdown, and kindly let us in front of her.Trip to housing benefit office(helpfully contained in the library) was much better- Rachel was very patient, and explained to the tired overworked looking woman behind the counter that she should ‘smile and be kind’, and that ‘the book corner was much better than this bit of the library’. I am not entirely sure that this, while amusing me greatly, didnt lead to said woman, refusing to take my payslips, as there was nothing on them which showed that they were anything more than printouts from home..A 40 minute walk home(5-10 minutes max-without child), had to include a visit to the baby ducks(which have now grown into adult ducks- a fact which led to a distraught little girl complaining that we have LOST the baby ducks, and that I should get them back), a reassurance that we were in fact walking the right way, and it would not be more fun to walk backwards. A short shoulder ride(no mean feat in 3.5inch wedges! I can tell you!), and a squiggly wiggly snake purchased from the ice cream van, in a vain attempt at bribery.Which led us to the dolls house. With Rachel showing me that she had a coat hook that had fallen down, and a request that I fix it. Go get superglue- try to unblock nozzle with my teeth- end up with mouth full of superglue. Actually, thats a lie. Just the front two teeth, and the tip of my tongue. Someone on Twitter informed me that superglue had been developed to close wounds in the Vietnam war, and I have a feeling, I will have something that feels like a plastic crust on my teeth, and tongue for a good few days yet…The two hours of overtiredness, which followed that, I have blocked out, in a vain attempt to prevent post traumatic stress disorder. And here we are, chilled out, in front of Dora the Explorer(who shouts A LOT), in a semi tidy house, a library book defaced with a picture of me, that I think has more merit than Tracy Emins recent offerings. THe tasks to be completed today, still await, and I would quite like to eat chocolate and drink tea.On the upside, I learned today that queens ‘do jumping and eat sweeties’, that greenbeans are in fact dolls bogeys, that I look like one of the monsters from ‘Where the Wild Things Are'(the third jumping monster on the left from the second page, after the wild rumpus starts..), and that the invisible crocodiles that live outside our house, are in fact very nice. She has eaten 3 meals which were in some way healthyish, and I have managed to convince her to brush her teeth at least once.. I now get the pleasure of reading the three stories I intend to read, and the two or three that she manages to wangle out of me.To those of you who think this sounds like a dull, arduous day- I have to say, that this is my favourite kind of day. Nothing much happening, nothing much doing, and just chilling out with a short girl with blonde curls, brown eyes, and a fiercely unpredictable temper. (Who is at this moment licking my shoulder and laughing).