One of my children, the youngest twin, has, we recently realised, fallen prey to the dreaded family disease.

I had hoped he would be free of it. I inherited it from my mother, who has suffered, not very silently, for many years, but I had hoped that I wouldn’t pass it on to my children, that they would lead happy, pain-free lives.

But no. It seems that was too much to ask.

Twin B has Hypochondria.

And not just any old case of Hypochondria, his is chronic.

I feel for him, really I do, for I have lived with it my entire life. In the old days it was manageable, but now that the Internet has made self-diagnosis so easy, I spend my days trawling around the web to see what my symptoms might mean.

Mostly it is (drops voice to whisper) cancer. Whatever is wrong with me, I am convinced it is always cancer.

Many years ago I was talking to a fellow sufferer and I explained my symptoms.

‘I think,’ I said finally, my voice laced with fear. ‘I have prostate cancer.’

She burst out laughing, but I was deadly serious. The humor didn’t last. As soon as she told me I had no prostate, I changed my diagnosis to colon.

A couple of weeks ago I decided I was either developing MS, or Lou Gehrig’s Disease, neither of which are great. Tingling fingers, muscle cramps. I knew what this was.

I took myself off to the doctor who listened patiently, then sent me for a load of tests. When they phoned to say I was absolutely fine, just slightly deficient in Iron, I didn’t believe them.

‘Can you test my thyroid again?’ I pleaded. ‘I know it’s not right.’

And now my son has the disease, and because he is six, and charming, and a drama queen, he has the school nurse wrapped around his finger, and I am now receiving calls from her on a nigh-daily basis.

‘He has a terrible rash,’ she tells me. I get there and it’s a red dot.

‘He says he has a dreadful headache,’ she says. ‘He really must see a doctor.’

Even my doctor is now rolling her eyes when she walks in the room and sees Twin B, grinning away, sitting on the bed.

All I can do is thank God he’s not yet able to trawl the internet…

Dune Road out today, and another fun-packed day. Taking Eldest Daughter to buy glasses this morning, then off to twins scavenger hunt at beach. Cooking more vegan chili for my unwell friend, painting deck if rain holds off, attempting to find time to wash my hair in preparation for tonight’s reading at Westport’s Barnes & Noble.

Oh, and I may scribble down some notes on the new book.

More thoughts on love, from me, on www.wowowow.com.

Today woke up to news Mini-me was sick, and her father was dropping her home. Panic, as phones were off and I had been upstairs, and hadn’t heard anything. No sign of Mini-me, who had instead been dropped off at friends. Jumped in car, ran to friends, collected Mini-me.

Came home, did online interview for Writer’s Forum. Checked messages.

Noted that all paint on deck is peeling, and we are holding small gathering to celebrate book launch on weekend. Normally would ignore peeling paint, but film crew arriving tomorrow to film me for documentary and potential series, and PEELING PAINT WILL NOT DO.

Run to paint store with slivers of paint from deck to match, and leave them there. Pick up food at Trader Joe’s for dinner, including sushi for Mini-Me, who seems to be feeling fine now that Tylenol has kicked in.

Mini-me and I have lunch, then crawl into bed together to watch children’s television shows. I marvel at how good either Drake, or Josh, look since losing vast amounts of weight. I don’t know which one he is, I just know he’s thinner.

Jump out of bed as twins get home early from school, and we all decide to paint deck together. I stop when I see them. Twin B has a mohawk, but not a spiky cool one, a peculiar thuggish kind, that will hopefully be coming off soon. Twin A has what can best be described as a pudding bowl. Am thinking they need a new barber…

Three sleeping babies, one peculiar haircut…

They do not understand about painting within lines. This is understandable, as they are six. I, however, go to other side of deck pretending what I don’t know can’t hurt me. Realise halfway through that paint is wrong color. I can no longer simply touch up, but have to re-paint in entirety. Thought so overwhelming to me, I wash all paintbrushes and come inside, hoping for shot of energy tomorrow.

Pick fresh cilantro for chili for tonight’s supper from garden. For first time ever cilantro is gloriously happy in garden, and growing like a weed. Good thing, as weeds are growing like weeds too, and I’m hoping the cilantro wins…

Read article about me in Westport News that I had missed. Mini-me told me about it. Am pleased with both article and picture.

Check computer, and Barnes & Noble have Tagged me in TV interview. Watch in horror, as they filmed me from my bad side. It is significantly worse than good side. I am mortified. Also, they did hair and make-up in room with no mirror. I am sure they did great job, but I think I look weird. Note to self: never go on television again without looking in mirror first. Will say that adored Molly Pesce, interviewer, and all people I met that day. Was fun, even if I look like hell.

Start making doctor’s appointments for all Smalls. It is camp medical form time, and we need to update.

Make dinner for Smalls. First make veggie chili for Beloved and myself, put aside enough for us, then add organic chicken for meat-eaters. Should have added turkey, but couldn’t find organic stuff today so did chicken instead.

Twin B announces he hates Chili and will not be eating. ‘One bite,’ I say, and borrowing from my friend The Potter, add, ‘if you don’t like it, you can’t have ANY MORE.’

He dubiously takes one bite, and nods enthusiastically.

Other Smalls wolf down entire bowl.

Here is recipe:

Chili (serves around 6-8)

Veggie chili

3 tablespoons olive oil
1 green pepper
1/2 large white onion
2 cup baby carrots
3 cloves garlic
1lb minced chicken/turkey
1 teaspoon chili powder
2 teaspoons ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 teaspoon Jamaican allspice (or any other kind, I just happened to have that)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1 teaspoon paprika
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1 large can of diced tomatoes
2 small cans kidney beans
1 small can black beans
Dash of Worcestershire sauce

Chop pepper, onion, carrots and garlic in blender, then gently saute in olive oil until soft and flavorful (about five minutes)
Add all spices, stir in.
For vegetarian chili, omit the meat step and carry on, but if adding meat, add it now, and keep stirring and turning until meat changes color.
Add all beans, making sure you rinse them well in colander beforehand.
Add tomatoes, and dash of Worcestershire sauce.
Bring to boil then turn down to simmer and cover, leaving to simmer for around 30 minutes. The longer you simmer, the better the flavor will be.

Meat-eaters paradise…

Serve with sour cream, fresh cilantro, guacamole and shredded cheese.

It is now 6.06pm, and the day is not nearly over, but this was a taster.

And if you haven’t already pre-ordered…

GO OUT TOMORROW AND BUY DUNE ROAD AS SOON AS IT BECOMES AVAILABLE…

I’ll be at the Westport Barnes & Noble tomorrow night (Tuesday 16th) at 7pm.

Hope to see you there!

I haven’t discussed the animals for a while, so I thought I’d fill you in.

Three weeks ago Barney, our big grey and white cat, went missing. Barney was three and a half years old, and the star of our family. A great big handsome male, he would walk down to the bus stop with us in the morning and roll around at our feet waiting for his tummy to be rubbed. He was very much an outdoor cat - would cry at the door begging to be let out, and although I know there are dangers everywhere, it seemed more cruel to keep him confined. Particularly because when we got him we were living in the country, and he was used to being outdoors.

When he disappeared, we put up posters, and a few days later a neighbor phoned with the sad news that he had found Barney, seconds after he had been hit by a car. This kind man had wrapped him in a blanket and waited for the police to come and pick him up.

So last weekend, just for fun, we went to the humane society. It wasn’t our fault that they just happened to have an adorable little kitten with thumbs… Yes, that’s right. He has an extra paw, making him look as if he has mittens. He is fluffy, and fearless, and funny. We brought him home, named him Felix, and now he and Boots - our other kitten from the humane society - are inseparable.

As for Baron, he is still prowling around the garden putting off the postmen. Although, the UPS and Mailman now come armed with dog biscuits, and Baron has developed the Pavlovian response of leaping with excitement as soon as either of their trucks pull in the driveway. Unfortunately a 120lb Doberman leaping around with excitement is nothing short of terrifying, and these poor men have taken to cowering in their trucks as they throw Baron the proverbial bone.

I’m wondering if this might help ease their fear. It had me crying with laughter this morning and I may have to try it out…

Sometimes, when I’m in a Very Bad Mood, I rant for a bit on places I shouldn’t be ranting. Namely, ahem… my blog, facebook, and twitter.

This is the downside of being technologically connected. In the old days, if I was in a bad mood, I could just shut myself away for a bit, have a hot bath, read a good book and wait for it to pass. Now I feel the need to vent, and it’s only when the bad mood passes and I go back and read what I have recently posted, that I realise I should have just thrown the computer out the window and dived in the bath.

Now eating humble pie (sugar-free), and apologising if I offended anyone with my small rant on end of year school celebrations. I am hoping I get out of bed on a different side tomorrow…In the meantime, I am turning the faucets on NOW!

(For those still interested, here is original blog. Apologies to SAHM’s who may be taking offence. I am not irritated with you, I am irritated with the system that does not fairly cater to all…)

June rolls around, my busiest time of the year, with books coming out simultaneously in the US and the UK. I am flying here, there and everywhere to give book talks, am doing publicity, have a film crew out here next week filming for a pilot, and at the same time, have four children finishing school.

Someone recently wrote that the entire US school system is predicated on the mothers not working. I’d love someone to explain this to me, particularly as I like to think we are all living in a post-feminist world…