Your children, my children and responsibilities

Well the school hols are nearly over and in the air I can feel mixed emotions: some kind of relief that I won't have the pressure of trying to manage all the extra activity on my meagre levels of energy --which are almost at rock bottom now ; some kind of guilt that I feel some relief; some kind of ache that the little monkeys wont be around all the time; some kind of fear and trepidation from the little monkeys because they are going back to school ...and in the case of girl monkey to a new and bigger school.

Having children is such a mixture of instinct, love, your own upbringing, the social pressures of the time you live in, your own childhood. It's like a trifle made with fruit cocktail: it looks lovely and is in layers but there are also bits of fruit which are difficult to stomach and digest (in my case that would be those ghastly little grapes that you only ever find in fruit cocktail).

You may remember the dear soul who asked if my partner was my carer in the most toe curling manner some weeks back. For much of this holiday she has been about and around and so have her children. She doesn't actually live here but her mother does and so she is often nearby with her children. Quiet often her children are here with her mother and without her. Her mother is elderly and disabled. Her mother has her own problems. The woman herself has her own issues. She will also do anything to find other people to keep an eye on her children because she has her own 'issues' and simply cannot cope. We feel a certain sympathy for her...and a certain anger that she will sometimes find all sorts of ways to offload her children. They have spent a lot of time here this week: their grandmother has been away and so their mother has been house sitting and hence her children have been with us more than her.

There are two children: a girl who is diligent and quiet and a good friend to my daughter. She is also already at the school my daughter is about the attend and will help her to settle in. There is also a little boy who is a tiny little ruffian with the naughtiest smile who is a little gem but can be very irritating as he knows no boundaries ! (though often, even when he's been naughty, you have to put on your best stern face because you really just want to laugh and/or give him a cuddle!)

Last night an example of his mother's concern and care came to light.

All the children had cycled up the road to play. They all cycled back at tea time and our two stayed here because their tea was ready. The little scrap wanted to stay for tea too but we have been feeling that we must occasionally put our foot down and encourage his Mum to give him his tea herself, so we phoned her and said W. is here and is his tea ready ? No she said. W. says he wants to go back up the road then ..but he will be alone because our two are staying here to eat. That's OK she says...he'll be all right. We think...will he ?....how much responsibility do we/ should we have to take ? No, on balance, he probably will be OK. He's not our kid and it's not for us to judge.

Five minutes later the clouds gather and it looks like it will pour with rain. We phone 'Mum' and say W is still up there and it looks like rain. You really should go and get him. I can't leave the dogs on their own she says. We raise our eyes to heaven and debate what to do. We're sick of taking responsibility for her kids and shepherding her but we like the kids and feel sorry for her and them. We know the only way to get people to take responsibility is to hand it back to them so we decide to let her get on with it and start to eat tea.

Two mouthfuls in, the phone rings. It's 'Mum'...she is almost hysterical. W. has fallen off his bike and cracked his head open. Someone has seen what happened and brought him and his bike home in their car ... His head is bleeding and she doesn't know what to do. We down tools and utensils and partner ( a trained First Aid-er) goes up and takes a look. It's a tiny cut, but as is the way with scalp wounds there's loads of blood. Partner cleans the wound and advises Calpol, lying down and a close eye for the next half hour. Mum was going to phone for an ambulance and is puffing Lambert and Butler all over him.

Half an hour later Mum phones and W is OK. Drama over.

Should we have let him stay here when they came back for tea. Should we have gone to get him when Mum said she couldn't leave the dogs. How much responsibility do you take for other people's children, for other people's mistakes, for your own ?

What would you do ?