"How was your day?"

Being seventeen, I'm getting to that point where I look back at younger versions of myself and think, "Why did I do that? Why did I say that? What made me think like that?". I was very different two years ago to the way I am now. This is a strange feeling. It produces almost an alienated nostalgia, because I know it's my thoughts and actions I'm looking back on, but I don't understand them.
I've decided to write a book. I doubt it'll be hugely long, but it seems an interesting and fun thing to do. I'm entitling it, "How was your day?" because it's one of those questions that lots and lots of people ask, when in truth they really don't care a lto of the time. It's a cursory thing, like a nod or glance in the direction of someone you don't particularly like, but have to get on with for whatever reason.

Today I went to visit my cousin. She is much older than me, I think about forty or so. No, she's older than forty. She has three children, two of which are aged eight and ten, and one who is in her twenties. The one in her twenties has just had a baby (twelve weeks ago); it's a lovely baby, a boy called Alfie. He likes to stand up on people's laps, with help. I met him for the first time today, and fed him and changed him. He's a lovely baby, quite agreeable if you keep him entertained. He's chunking out at the moment.

Anyway, after having met baby Alfie, I went to the cousin's house. The younger children still live with her. They don't get on at all; they were fighting, yelling, and every time they got blamed for something, they'd burst into tears. They had no respect for their parents. This is difficult for me to watch. At one point, the ten year old was doing homework, and the eight year old came and broke it ( a paper chain with various words on, it was quite a clever exercise). Sam is the eight year old, Jessie is ten. Jessie yelled at Sam, understandably, but he just kept going. Eventually, in front of his father, I yelled at him. I tell you, it really gets the adrenaline going when you realise you're yelling at someone else's child in frant of that person. It was uncomfortable, but necessary. I think my words were something like, "Sam, I am nothing to do with your parents and I know that, but you can't go about ruining Jessie's work. It's nothing to do with you whatsoever. It's not your class, it's not your work, it's not your subject. Leave it alone."

Good job on my part? I think so. Jessie got her homework finished, Sam was told off again for trying to ruin it, (he did this twice) they both threw stuff and broke stuff, and cried. They are ten and eight. I agree with their father. I wouldn't be able to stand it for much longer either. They need to be separated, preferably by miles and miles, for a large number of years. Until they both grow up to the point where they can handle themselves, because right now, I'm not going back to that house again. For a long time.

So, I was being driven home by the family (all four of them arguing around me). I had this urge to speak up and say, "You know what? This is bullshit. This is bloody ridiculous. Why are you letting your children fight like this all the time? This is five-year old stuff. They're not growing up, they have no manners (If you've ever seen a child shew with his mouth open while talking, let the food fall out of his mouth, look down, laugh, pick it up and eat it again then you can begin to understand). Just be more firm."

I know it's difficult, parenting and all, but people need to put in more effort. Face it- if you want children, you're going to be quite poor. You'll not have a lot of free time. You'll always have to be there.

Both my parents work full-time jobs. They're not together. I barely see either of them. We don't really talk all that much. Please, if you're going to have children, spend time with them. I am so lonely at home, if I have a problem I never get to talk to my mum about it because she's not here. When she is here, there are others here too. I always try to ask her, "How was your day?"... The easiest way to make conversation with someone is to get them to talk about themself. The point I'm trying to make is, mum, I love you, but I'm fucking tired of being so far down your list of priorities.