Mum's the word

Consciousness hits me in the face and I gasp for breath but all I can taste is lavender. Youngest Child is holding a lavender bag over my nose and mouth to wake me.
By The Newsroom
Published 23rd May 2010, 13:06 BST
Updated 23rd May 2010, 14:12 BST

"Morning!" she bellows, as Eldest Child appears. "Lemsip or tea?" he asks.

"Em, tea please." What's going on?

"Happy birthday," he says, handing me a DVD of The Wire. Cool.

"Oh yes, it's my birthday" I say.

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"No it's not," says Youngest. "It was yesterday. You missed it."

"I think I know when my birthday is."

"I think you don't." She stomps off to check the calendar.

Meanwhile Middle Child appears. He's been for a jog! At 6am! This is the child gifted an alarm clock by his despairing teacher.

"Happy Birthday!" he says.

"Yes, it is her birthday," confirms Youngest. "The calendar was wrong yesterday. Anyway, don't come in to the kitchen mum."

I hear her chat as they do whatever they're doing. "Another birthday. How much longer do you think she'll live?"

Oh no – the clatter of pans, the sizzle of sausages (which I've been off since uncle's naked butchers' calendar) – they're making me breakfast. Eventually the door is thrown open to reveal… sausage sandwiches. On white bread, with ketchup.

"What a treat!" I say, feigning delight. "Eh? Those are for us!" says Middle Child. "For cleaning the kitchen."

And so they have. Sunlight bounces off the granite-look plastic and I'm dazzled. By my kitchen and children.

• This article was first published in The Scotsman on 22 May.