Why I don't post much

Or

What happens when you have two kids

We met my brother in central London this bank holiday weekend. He's quit his job and is celebrating by bumming round Europe. And I mean bumming. I've mooted the possibility of us all going to Sicily, which was a plan earlier this year. But being my brother, he has yet to make any firm decision on what he wants to do. But he has downloaded several Lonely Planet guidebooks for free as they were offered up during the Ash Cloud crisis.

So we are all dithering. Alex has suggested we not fly which, I think, is sensible. What would be even more sensible of course would be to get a move on and book some lousy tickets to go somewhere, anywhere at all. Sicily is quite a way away without a plane. So perhaps we'll consider San Sebastian again, even though the beach is not quite as nice as it would be in Sicily. And there'd be much less gelato.

I've mooted other places: Corfu, because we both grew up reading Gerald Durrell. But if it's all strip lighting and nightclubs and not even a hint of the countess and her snipe on toast, what then? Who needs ash in the air if it's just like sodding Enid Blyton and the reality of east London in the late 90s. Anyway you still need to fly.

Paris Disneyland ticks all the right journey boxes. Several colleagues who made their way back overland (I think the last one arrived today) after being stuck abroad said Eurostar was making particular effort to be nice to them - probably to counter the stuck-in-the-tunnel PR over the freezing winter. Izzy would be delighted, the rest of us slightly less so, I imagine. Although I suppose we could always head out to somewhere else in France after the event.

He's currently staying with an old friend, so one of the problems is that she's been to the other European countries quite a lot. I've also suggested: Spain (though I really would rather not go again having been twice, reasonably extensively in the south); Morocco (I wouldn't take the girls I don't think but it should be lovely otherwise); and Turkey (ooh Turkish delight, pide and lamacun).

Alex isn't keen on Turkey for some reason - probably because he's also been twice. And I suppose Morocco is really just a little much for the babes. From what little I recall of the souk in Marrakesh, lovely as it is, the pram wheels would get stuck in mud and mule dung quite quickly.

Where else? He's suggested Croatia (but I think that's a bit like Italy only a bit more expensive).

Another thought is Jersey - again for the Gerald Durrell connection - but Alex thinks it would be too boring.

So here we are dithering some more. If we don't end up going on holiday I am definitely going to buy that ridiculously expensive bike that turns into a pushchair to compensate.

Anyway one long digression later: my brother asked why I don't post much on the blog any more. The answer is because there's no time really and I'm exhausted each night. If I don't fall asleep before having washed up it's a good night for me.

And the one day a week off I have - currently Wednesday - I find too depressing to spend indoors as the girls just move from messing up one room to the next in minutes. So we go out, out, out, where I don't have to cook, deal with the unwashed dishes in the sink, and just about manage to stick in some laundry and hang it out to dry, between leaving the house and returning for toilet breaks.

Well and, to be fair, now the weather's nice, it's actually quite lovely being out as well. Having switched my days off to coincide with Izzy's buddies from nursery also being off, we have for the last two weeks hung out in parks with the others and it's nice to see Izzy just running around having a good time with her friends.

Last week I topped up a giant bubble wand with some bubble mix and that kept them going for a good 15 minutes if not more. Roz also has baby buddies we meet up with so it's all good.

See it's midnight now and I need to sleep otherwise I will be extremely short-tempered tomorrow once the girls get up. Roz will wake for a feed around 6.30am and, if I'm lucky, go back to sleep. Only Izzy will toddle into the room and start bouncing around on the bed at about 7.15, irritating both Roz and I. So at about 7.30 I'll drag myself up as it will be less annoying than trying to sleep with both girls clawing at my face and telling me to get up.

The jostling for position on my lap continues to this day, with both of them trying to piss the other off. Roz will lean over and shove Izzy off, quite forcefully. And Izzy does things like sit on one lap, then stretch her leg over to the other, while taunting Roz with 'I can sit on mummy. But you're not. You aren't sitting on mummy, Roz.' And don't think Roz doesn't understand.

All it takes is for Alex to join in: 'But where does daddy sit? How come I don't get to sit on mummy too?' and sometimes I wish someone would tell me to get to a nunnery too.

Oh and Izzy had her first ballet show this weekend. Two hours spent on tying her hair into as neat a bun as I could manage and hanging about at dress rehearsal; one finger pricked with the back end of a needle when trying to sew straps securely onto her new shoes; then another two hours putting on the costume and makeup and waiting for her turn on stage. Three minutes on stage. Admittedly dead cute. Then one more hour watching the rest of the dance class go through their performances. Just about - really just about - worth it I guess.

More than one person's asked what it's like having two children. The good thing is: you don't have time to worry about stuff like that. Everything just happens. And when you're not wiping down the floor for the third time ... it's pretty good.