Our day commenced with a Chippie-style tantrum, whereby we have a tantrum over something unfathomable; I think, this morning, it was because I allowed himself to feed himself, whereas the Grumpy One feeds him.
So then I attempted to feed him, because I wanted him fed, and that was the wrong thing to do. I realised that when he screamed some more at me. Then he was pushing his highchair tray, so figured he wanted out, except that he grabbed it quite firmly and pulled it back when I tried to remove it. Oh, and screamed some more. Then he reached out for his drink, screaming, so I passed it to him so he screamed again and threw it at me.
And then I screamed “USE YOUR FUCKING WORDS!”
I know he has some.
I got him organised for childcare, now in deep Pit Of Guilt because by this stage, the only reason I wanted him to go was because he was seriously pissing me off, and not for any other reason than that. I’ll use the excuse that it was raining for driving there to drop him off, but a part of me can’t help but think it was because I wanted to get rid of him sooner, rather than later.
I did suggest to the staff that should he continue to be so upset (of course, he wasn’t when I dropped him off and stopped crying within .7 seconds of me leaving the room) they could call me. I didn’t mean it. It was a token comment so that they didn’t think I was a bad mum and that I really did care.
Home we go, where the kids are instructed to do one more job in the toy room so that it may actually be played in and I took a Very Important Business Call that went “yes, yes, of course, I’ll send that to you now, will you please shut up and move away from my doorway, yes, it’s emailing now and I’ll get the other documnet to you asap, no, serious, bugger off and play somewhere else!, and what else do you need from me? Excellent, I’ll add that to the list – WILL YOU PISS OFF AWAY FROM MY DOOR AND GO AND PLAY ELSEWHERE – and get it to you by the end of the week. Thanks.”
I had chosen for a quiet afternoon, perhaps some MarioKart with the kids and some quiet time. Planus Interruptus was put into place when the kids called a friend to come for a play. They did ask me, however they did it at a moment when my mind was otherwise occupied and I stupidly said “sure, go for it, just leave me alone for a bit”.
Two hours later, two more boys are dropped off at my door, I’m making a cup of tea and offering biscuits we don’t have. Mum has something to do, so am left alone and may continue to ignore the children. They played really well together – the Other People’s Kids coming over phenomena is nowhere near as bad as it’s made out to be.
Of course, there are Other People’s Kids who perpetuate the “myth”, thereby un-mything it (or is that reinforcing it?) and I just don’t allow those kids to be invited. Monkey Boy did request to invite one over, but I did tell him that he can’t because he misbehaves too much and I’m just reinforcing the “you’ve been naughty so you can miss out on playing with your friend”. Except, of course, he doesn’t know this so I did let Monkey Boy know that he could ring him and say “I want to invite you over, but Mum said you misbehave too much so you can’t come”.
He refused. Damnit.
Other Kids picked up after distracting my kids for quite some time, Grumpy returns home and we wander up to collect Chippie the decide to go the long way home to burn off some energy the kids have pent up all day. Chippie opts to have a full on tanty in a laneway, so we hide around the corner, causing an old Italian may to climb his fence and have some very hard to understand words to Chippie and freak out a bit at this kid left alone in a laneway.
Another lady walks by and checks he’s ok, after spotting us and us suggesting she do so, and Chippie is faced with the prospect of having someone else talk to him, or returning to us. He ups, walks and parks himself against a wall, still tantrumming.
Eventually we make it to the video shop, where he picks up and runs laps, giving appearance of little shit, but not actually being one a la pulling DVDs of shelves and throwing them around. Am happy to let him keep running. And laughing. They have a special on where we can choose 8 DVDs, where I am the only one suggesting it is stupid idea, and Grumpy and kids start collecting. I am allowed privilege of choosing one of my own. Given I am exhausted and can’t remember any of the DVDs I’d actually like to see, I wander around checking out titles hoping one will spring out at me, whilst Monkey Boy chooses about 17 he’d like to see and approaching me frequently to say “how about this one?” until I explode and say “I’d really like to watch something that doesn’t suit kids, if that’s ok with you?”
It wasn’t, but Grumpy chose one for me anyway, that I’m not particularly interested in seeing.
Home we go, dinner had and it’s bath time. I could really use a long soak in a hot bath. Encourage older two to have a shower becuase “euwwww, your hair really stinks! Hvae a shower and wash it!” It doesn’t, but I don’t want my bath interrupted.
Bad enough that I have Chippie in there with me, till I can call out to Grumpy to collect him, top it up with hotter water and nice, non-kid bubbles and essential oils and just … soak.
Grumpy does come in. Carrying a towel. Not Chippie’s. He also appears to be maked. And now appears to be getting into the bath as well!
Shower completed, the other two hop into the bath with us, and I’m wedged, with one boob pressing against the cold side of the bath, someone’s foot appears to be wedged in my bottom and my other boob has someone else’s elbow jammed into it. It hurts! I can’t feel one leg … nor even tell where it is, and the water is going cold.
I can’t get out!
My long soak in the bath has turned ito Bathus Horribilus.
Eventually, I am able to slither my way into sitting position, causing a toppling of bodies, much splashing and squealing, then I extract myself from torturous situation and don my warm jarmies. Chippie licks water from side of bath, which has, thankfully, relatively recently