I need wine.

I am gagging for a glass of wine. I can imagine the sound of icy cold pinot grigio or chardonnay or to be honest any damn thing being poured into a glass. The first sip. The cutting coolness of it. Aah. But it's Tuesday. That's a day of the week. Not the weekend. And we're not supposed to be drinking during the week because

a) it costs too much
b) it's fattening
c) you're not supposed to have a million units of alcohol a week. Something to do with gout and liver disease.

So we have supplemented wine for tea. In my case, rooibos tea. And quite frankly, caffeine free tea is not a very satisfactory wine replacement.

I know that if I don't have any wine tonight, tomorrow morning I will wake up feeling clear headed (well as clear headed as anyone waking up before the birds can feel) and I will have the warm glow of satisfaction that I didn't succomb to what are worrying alcholic tendencies.

But it's been a not brilliant day. Not awful mind, just a bit out of sortish.

Firstly, I'm definitely having a career wobble. I shouldn't be surprised. I have one about once a month (hmm, I wonder what the cause could be?) I am my own worst critic and the slightest thing tends to make me question my abilities. Right now I am grappling with the 'do I scale up or do I stay small' dilemma. Both have pros. Both have cons. Both require me to remove my butt firmly from the fence which I've become quite comfortable sitting on.

Secondly, I have two small boys. Yes, I may have mentioned them before. Today, the younger son was apparently tired. Very. That means an awful lot of completely irrational behaviour coupled with loud yelling. And that's just me... ba boom. But the older one wasn't on fabulous form either - and given he currently sports a black eye from his younger brother head butting his cheekbone - he looks more thuggish than usual.

We had the fight over who was going to have the orange cup, for something new and completely different. Then we had the fight about who was going to play with which of the 4,000 plastic cars we own. Then we had the fight about who had said 'Snap' first. Son 1 hasn't quite mastered the art of losing so playing a game like snap is dangerous ground. Then son 2 refused to go for a pee. And then promptly peed his pants. Then I had to get dinner going and son 2 wanted to help. By that read, I peeled the potatoes. He used the peeler to lacerate my cookery book. I chopped the potatoes. He 'helped' by putting them into the pot of water .... dropping them from about 15 feet up so that the entire kitchen was drenched by the end of it.

Broccoli, a firm favourite in our house, became the world's most evil vegetable during today's dinner and son 2 also refused to eat the mashed potatoes he had helped make. For pudding, I offered yogurt. Cue major screams as yogurt doesn't include ice-cream or chocolate. Finally resigning themselves to boring old yogurt, they proceeded to fight about who was going to snap the tubs apart. Eventually the both pulled, ripping two of the tubs in half resulting in a yogurt explosion and cries of: 'That one's oogy. I don't want that one.' Obviously. So much for Gordon Brown saying not to waste food. Does the man have children? Real ones?

Anyway, I could go on about bathtime antics and the fact that the younger son caused the older son to smash his head into the toy box just before bed, but I won't. Because I'm going to go get some wine. I'll pretend it's Saturday. After all, it's Wednesday tomorrow which means I'm not working. Hurrah.