Ah, Monday morning.
Three lunches to make what with Chippie at family day care again, walk kids to school, delegating task of taking Chippie to day care to The Grumpy One, brisk walk home and a session in the Wii … that’s three jobs down and it’s just gone 9.30am!
Am doing well.
Sit down to do some uninterrupted work when am interrputed by a phone call advising me there seems to be a technical issue that needs dealing with. Tend to that in between doing the work on my To Do List.
Still one car down, Grumpy reminds me I need to take him to work just after lunch, have a Tantrum on the Inside as am now getting really pissed off with the interruptions to my day. And am feeling quite tired due to Chippie’s continued lack of ability to sleep through even for one night.
Ditch the Grumpy One, grab a shower while I can as have no idea when I may get another opportunity this week, then it’s off to school pickup; home for shovelling snacks in faces, gymnastics, grab Chippie, back to gymnastics, prevent Chippie from wandering into car park, throwing magazines in the bin, emptying the bin and disctracting the girls class who are attempting to master the beam.
Home, where I get to whip up a meal, the two older boys speaking at some extraordinarily high volume, then getting increasingly sillier and sillier until, after several polite attempts to get them to shut the fuck up, I yell “WILL YOU STOP?!” causing Godzilla to cry, but not run away as I had his arms gripped firmly in my hands and think I’d managed to convey that message directly into his face. My yelling also causing Monkey Boy to become the World’s Best Behaved and Most Helpful Kid. Quite possibly the Universe’s.
Again ponder the need for me to get to this particular state before they will actually listen and do what is asked of them.
Dinner consumed and we have an hour to get organised before having to pick Grumpy up at work. Kids all tossed in bath while I scramble to get at least another 10 minutes done from my To Do List (tomorrow is going to be a nightmare, so am getting done what I can!), kids out of bath, Chippie runs off naked and starts playing with the Lego Star Wars set up on the hall stand.
(Placed there carefully by Monkey Boy after a conversation that went remotely like this:
Me: Please don’t put them there, the Lego is to stay in the toy room.
Him: But I just need to build a base.
Me: Fine, but no there, go build it where it is more appropriate.
Him: They need a base somewhere.
Me: Not THERE! I don’t want frigging Lego all over the frigging house and Chippie will get it and eat it and then you’ll be upset and want me to look through his poo and just build the bloody thing in the toy room!
Him: Chippie won’t get it …
… and so on…)
I’m attempting to locate appropriate bed-wear that will actually fit Chippie when a distraught cry comes from the hall, followed immediately by “Chippie jsut did a wee on my Snow Trooper!”, Godzilla giggling hysterically and yelling “He did a pee – hehehehehehe – he did a pee” and Chippie then wandering around saying “pee, pee, pee, pee, pee”.
At least he’s now saying a few words. I was starting to get worried.
I mop up the spillage, head back to his bedroom, hear Monkey Boy yelling “Oh, god he just did a fart!”
I reply with “Bring him here quick and get a nappy on him. Quick!”
To which Monkey Boy says “He just farted, again! AARGH!! He just pooed. It got me. There is POO ON ME!” and I turn to find that Monkey Boy