SAHM

... as the Americans call it or Stay at Home Mum as we Brits prefer . That's what I am . I'm trying to think of an alternative translation of those initials. Maybe - Sanity Altering Hateful Menopause might be more appropriate.

So, the dust has settled on the unpacked holiday suitcases, the flip- flops have been consigned to the cupboard under the stairs until next year and the school term is in full ( ish ) swing. That means one thing ... homework and lots of it. I know a lot more about the negative effects of tourism on the human geography of the Inca Trail in Maccu Picchu than I did last night and I also now realise that not sending in the rugby kit on a Wednesday was a BIG no-no. I have been conscripted to bake cakes for the Autumn Fair next weekend ( hurrah ) but have had to stump up a large wodge of cash for a French trip next Spring term ( boo ) .

School life has a momentum all of its own, punctuated by lesson-free half terms, peppered with the odd piano lesson or latest free-time whim and  sleep-in weekends. Talking of which, my new most hated newspaper article is the one where childless couples talk of Saturday Brunch at the Savoy and lazy Sunday lunches at Boutique hotels, followed by labrador walks and country pubs before heading home to London to park their Porsche in their Mayfair Mews. Don't these people realise what they're missing ? What self-respecting Sunday night would be complete without a search for the elusive PE kit that's festering in the bottom of a muddy sports bag , a row about undone homework and a scrabble for an empty shoebox and a green ( must be green ) pipe-cleaner required for Monday morning's art class ?

So my new acronym for SAHM could be ... Sunday Always Heralds Mayhem.