I started off the day being such a great mother, writing nice notes for my kids and putting them in their lunchboxes. They were even nice notes, saying “I love you” and things like that.
Well, only that. Godzilla asked me to do it. He’s asked me lots of times, and I had a spare couple of minutes. So I did it.
And off we went to school with the usual amount of chaos. And the day was the usual amount of chaos.
I had to do grocery shop – yet another! – and off Chippie and I went. To a new place, so had no idea where anything was. We did, however survive, made it home and commenced the unloading of groceries from the car. Made more challenging by a little boy who has learnt to escape through the front door and crawl really fast up the street to the corner. Thanks to his adoring brothers. Grumble grumble.
This, apparently, is hilarious, as is a fully-laden-with-groceries Mother chasing her baby up the street, judging by the faces of passers-by.
It’s then off to swimming with the kids, where they fight and bicker instead of changing into their bathers, and Chippie crawls into the baby pool fully clothed. I roll my jeans up and follow him in, where he’s having a fabulous time splashing and giggling and crawling in deeper. A regular at the pool, and known by a majority of staff there, the lifeguard walks to the edge of the pool and starts chatting to him. Chippie has decided, over the last few days, that he doesn’t like anyone else talking to him, and began crying, as he sat, fully clothed in the middle of the baby pool.
And just in time for the next wave of parents and children to come through for the next session of lessons, causing lots of sideways glances at the scenario in front of them. Chippie pulls himself up and hugs my legs tightly, leaving me wet from the hips down, I pick him up, hold him at arms length and attempt to strip him down of his wet, one size too small clothes, and carry him back to our ‘stuff’ past sniggering, smirking parents.
Find Monkey Boy missing from his class, have mild panic until teacher informs me she put him up to see how he’d go. Turns out he’s blitzing the rest of the class and has basically been lazy “coz it’s easy and I can swim better than anyone so how come I have to do what she says?” Coordinator tells him he’s going up and staying up. Hooray.
Make it home, and, as with all “activity after school” days, have to remind repeatedly to get ALL their stuff out of the car. They walk in with nothing, so they’re sent out again. I look out the door to find that:
a) neither of them have got their stuff out of the car, and
b) Monkey Boy on the garage roof.
I’m not deluded. I knew we’d get there eventually. I just thougth I had another year or two up my sleeve before this date. He waves at me and says “So, do you think Daddy will be impressed with me?”
Was that a hint of sarcasm in his voice? Surely not, he’s 8.
“Oh, yeah, real impressed,” I reply. Sarcastically.
“Mu-uum. I was being sarcastic. That was sarcasm, young lady!”
They then thank me for their notes in their lunchboxes. Godzilla cries, because he can’t find his. Monkey Boy tells me he ate his one.
“Because it was in my lunchbox!”
Chippie cries. And smells. Really bad. I strip him down, grumble at the fact that the person who used the wipes last didn’t refill it, and find one left. Use it as best I can – no chance of opening another pack whilst holding legs of poo covered baby – clean him up, and get poo on myself. And nothing handy to clean me up.