Up before the rest of the household … which is actually a lie of sorts, because, truth be known, I was awoken by Chippie who then fell asleep on my bed with his foot wedged firmly up my nose, so I got up while he and the others were asleep.
The day was reminiscent of a Wacky Wednesday, only it’s Monday and that’s just confusing. Days shouldn’t fuck with the minds of mothers like that.
It started with my MUG and a technical issue that made no sense and made me not want to wake my children so I didn’t have to yell at them about getting ready for school this morning. Although, being Monday, I was always going to be yelling re the school thing.
In fact, just having kids, regardless of the day, and you’ll be yelling re the school thing.
Weird, illogical technical issue sorted, then it was onto Vegemite sandwich prepartion and leaving for school. Time up our sleeves and we still managed to be out the door late and shoeless, Godzilla insisting he had put his shoes away – just outside his bedroom door, as away as we’re ever going to get them, so have stopped worrying – but they were “not where I put them away”.
No, they were lying in the middle of the loungeroom floor where he and everyone else had been tripping over them all morning, but he was unable to find them. Anyway, he hadn’t lef them there, someone else had taken them from where he put them away and left them in the middle of the floor.
This “someone” appears to be doing this daily. In fact, they seem to be doing it all day, as in the shoes are always there despite Godzilla and everyone else tripping on them and insisiting they are “away where they live!” It’s getting rather annoying.
Eventually we’re out the door and off to school, then back to collect the cherubs and commence my afternoon from Hell, where I head to school, back home to stuff faces and collect snacks, DS and gymnastics uniform, ditch them at gymnastics, head off to collect Chippie and spend another hour in a large factory watching seriously amateur gymnastics and a fickle toddler who is unable to decide if he wants to eat a banana or stuff it between the gaps in the chairs then throw it across the room when he’s told off for that, then have a tantrum because I prefer he not eat the semi-consumed banana off the toilet floor.
Back home, dinner, bath, bed and locate a pen stuck to the wall halfway up the hall.
With no explanation …