Yesterday, I awoke with a niggly throat, but last night’s efforts set the scene.
Monkey Boy was in the foulest of feral moods – due to extreme fatigue. A week of midnight readings (despite protestations by Grumpy and I) and a full day out on Sunday, followed by another late night reading session, and he was in fine form.
His main issue was that our preventing him from watching TV after telling Grumpy to “SHUT UP” and telling his younger brother he was a little shit was just totally unreasonable and unfathomable. He should be allowed to watch it and we are just nasty parents.
And he is not tired at all!!!!
Grumpy and I were not so miffed at that as how to deal with the reading thing – something we both love to do. And it’s not that easy to put into place disciplinary measures for a kid doing something good!
Argh! “They” never warned us about this.
Star charts to promote good behaviour I get, but to prevent good behaviour, I’m struggling with how to implement a system.
Anyhoo, after several hours of unrelenting tantrum – because obviously he was in the right and there was no reason he shouldn’t be allowed to watch TV, other than the fact that we really, really hate him and that’s why, I made my way to bed. Still tired from the “Fun Family Day” two days ago.
Yesterday wasn’t much better.
Oh, its just cemented why a ‘day off’ is good in theory, but not necessarily in reality.
My throat, niggly yesterday, has become full blown hurty. My head is stuffed up, I can’t swallow or breath and I want to lie in a coma for a couple of years.
The kids refuse to cooperate with my suggestion of scrambled eggs on toast for dinner. Slightly more complex than my normal suggestion of WeetBix, but the 1 litre of milk we have left is frozen, and if we use that up, it means I’ll have to leave the sanctury of my house – and pyjamas – and get some more.
Grumpy chose an appropriate time to ring and say they need more customers for dinner, but given everyting tastes like blergh at the moment, and flavourless blergh at that, I decline. It would also involve me leaving sanctuary of jarmies. Not an option.
Eventually talk kids into “macaroni napoli”, consisting of me cooking the pasta and warming up a tin of crushed tomato, and helping self to scrambled eggs on toast.
Next time Grumpy talks me out of a day of work and into a day with the family, I think it needs to be held entirely at a day spa, prefereably one with sound proof walls so I can have a proper facial, and not one consisiting of meat pie contents and snot being wiped across my cheek.