Tablecloth displacement

The tablecloth is a hit. People come round and exclaim: "OOH! What a lovely tablecloth." Then they brush their fingers across its surface and express surprise that it is plastic. "And how practical!" they coo. My neighbour has bought one too in a fit of tablecloth-envy. Hers has funky green apples on it. I am a trendsetter!
There's only one small problem. I bought it to disguise the paint, biro and scratch marks decorating the table. But after two weeks in situ the tablecloth is starting to bear all the signs signs of small people itself: paint, biro and scratch marks. The tablecloth bears this marginally better than the table did because the trendy floral design merges with the scribbles so that you hardly notice them. It really *is* all a metaphor for my life: however hard you try to make your life wipe-clean, it's just too difficult to remove the stains. Best just disguise them a bit with some pretty patterns.
Actually, talking about the tablecloth endlessly is really all just displacement activity. Have been suffering acute case of BadMotherItis brought on by 20 month old refusing to walk, three year old refusing to potty train and six year old refusing to let a civil word issue from her lips. Of course, each of these things is entirely my fault! I was too distracted to notice that Ava was nearly two yet still getting from A to B on her bottom, dragging one leg underneath her and thus weakening it (a course of physio and possibly a leg brace now beckons, the thought of which makes my eyes go watery every time). I was too lazy / distracted / exhausted to spend my weekends putting my three year old on the potty every 15 minutes and now have precisely three and a half months to resolve the issue before he is refused entry to school. I was too soft on my six year old and I am suffering the consequences. Must Try Harder. Must Try Harder.
And, breeeeeeeeathe!