Heads you win

That was some week. But, it's my birthday today and I can breathe a laden sigh of relief as half term is upon us and I've time. I had the pleasure of a lie in..well, almost (the workmen are arriving at 9am instead of 8!) and awoke with the children's shouts of excitement at my 44th birthday and the 'surprise' (hidden gifts, cards and chocolate treat) that had been orchestrated by my beloved. Aaah! To be honest, I'd rather forget the fact that I'm the wrong side of 40 and concentrate on my rare lie in but I played the game and the girls were as happy as if it were their celebratory day!

My body simply aches with fatigue and stress such is the load I carry during the week as a senior member of staff at a large London prep school.

My dream job ...truly. A hop, skip and jump from the front door which enables me to push past the heavy Victorian doors (with even heavier bags) minutes away from being reprimanded for being late (and I usually drive!!).

You see having two daughters with beautiful, soft woolly hair means that it takes more than a couple of quick brushes to make my beauties escape potential playground ridicule each day. The girls sense the build up to the torturous daily routine and fight to be the last to endure the physical pain and wretched head twisting and tugs at the strands that have been miraculously woven and knotted during the night's slumber. "No not me, Alex first!" shrieks Erin as she dashes across the breakfast room with terror and wilful determination etched in her eyes. Meanwhile, Alex has suddenly remembered that she has some homework to complete and simply cannot be disturbed or Mrs Lowe will be most displeased with her efforts. Meanwhile the clock's ticking, I'm sweating and my mobile trills with another message from a sick member of staff who's unable to work today. So, it's 8.00am and I have to comb my daughters' hair (no, sorry, I mean gently caress their African heritage tresses), encourage attention to detail with last minute homework, book a supply teacher to arrive in school in 30 minutes from goodness knows where, get dressed, apply make up that I can't find (bathroom is being refurbed) and eat breakfast. Then sprint to school to arrive looking like the calm professional that I'm employed to be. Is it any wonder that I've resigned?