That's ok, I really wanted to spend more time with you!

Against my better judgement I put the sleeping toddler in bed before the big boys were in bed.

Yes, they all share a room.

Yes, that's pretty novel.

That's right, we are kind of crazy, but the mortgage repayments are a pittance and I can sleep easily at night...unless the children are doing as children sometimes do and disturb my sleep, but that's another post!

Anyway, yeehaa! Sleeping toddler! How heavenly that I could do stories without being headbutted and/or climbed on and off and on and off and on off of the whole time!

As B1 and B2 were going to bed I foolishly say: "Be quiet so you don't wake Mr 1."

In Fouryearoldboy that translates to: stage whisper even louder than your regular speaking voice, require extra reading material which you should definitely drop rather loudly, muck around with your big brother and generally make a pain of yourself in order to wake the sleeping babe.

Mission accomplished!

And you've made mum irate too, good job!

Believe it or not, half an hour of sleeping is PLENTY for a toddler who has only managed a half an hour nap all day and been completely crabby for 99% of the afternoon/evening. It's party time!

I sat with Mr 1 patting his back, willing him to go back to sleep.

Nuh-uh, things to do, things to touch and see!

I snuggled him, nuh-uh, I am toddler let, me mischief!

I'm without other adult company tonight, so my night was going to involve a movie which my husband would not watch without complaining, a date with a hair removal device followed up by stinking the house out with some nail polish. Instead my date is with the folding and this...

It's for his own safety...I can't strangle his cute face very easily back there.

Sigh.

Well Played Arsenic Hour. Well Played.

"Play outside for 10 minutes, I'll get you some dinner after that."

The problem with housework is: no-one does it while you are working outside in the yard. This, was paticularly the case this evening as dinner time approached and my kitchen resembled (some kind of witty analogy which I'm too tired to think of now.).

Anyway I've fobbed the kids off for 10 minutes and am wildly scrubbing vulcanised cornflakes off breakfast bowls when I hear the unmistakeable wails of an "I'm-really-hurt-this-time" boy. 

Mr 4 is injured. It's something to do with his toe and the dog and the trampoline, but between the wailing and the tears and the snot..."here, just pop it in this sink full of cold water".

Mr 5 is wanting to know if it's 10 o'clock yet, if it's food time yet. Mr 1 is climbing the kitchen bench and picking up everything in sight. 

 "Would you like breakfast for dinner?" I ask while googling 'injured toenail treatment' and removing Lego from the toddlers mouth.

"YES!!!" Is the cry of ecstasy....so nice to know cornflakes beat practically anything I cook.

Anyway, I'm dumping cereal and milk into those bowls I just cleaned and Mr 4 is screaming at me because it's been longer than 2 seconds and I'm clearly not coming back. 

Inspection of the wound reveals a jagged tear down the centre of the nail. Dr Google suggests cut off the jagged edges, band aids and Panadol...easy. Except I said, we need to cut it off...What kind of idiot says that? CUE ONE WAY TICKET TO HYSTERIA-LAND.

That's ok, I've got lollipops, and look that doesn't even hurt when I use these special scissors, does it?!

Here, have a cool bandage too and you want sprinkles on your cornflakes too...no problem!

Sugar saves the day again...now, where's the secret stash of Emergency Chocolate for mum?!

It Never Just Rains

My alarm went off as it does every weekday at 06:30. This morning though, I woke up with that seedy I-must've-had-a-big-night fog in my head and aches in my body. Unfortunately, no big night here and I can't even blame the children for keeping me up. I didn't need to argue with myself very much about cancelling my run and proceeded to reset my alarm for 7. And then 7:30. And then I snoozed it one more time before Boy 1 woke me up to get his breakfast.

Now, when Mum is slow off the mark, everyone else it too. That meant that Boy 2 and Boy 3 were both still in bed at 8:30. Even through the fog I can clearly see that Boy 1 is not going to make it to kinder on time so I ask Mr Awesome if he will take him. Surprisingly he says that's no problem (he later tells me that he didn't realise he had to sign him in and stay there until they opened up...I thought it was a bit too easy getting him to agree). Anyway, this arrangement means I have no car at home. No biggie, I'm planning to dose up on pseudoephedrine and paracetamol, I can walk the 800m to Mr Awesome's workplace and get the car on the way to kinder pick up.

Now, Boy 3 is having a lovely nap when my "Don't forget Boy 1" alarm goes off. That means I have to wake him up. And put socks and shoes on him. And a jacket. And pop him in the pram. And of course it's raining so I have to hunt down that rain cover I have for the pram.
Finally I'm ready to go. Out the drive with my giant rainbow umbrella; Boy 2 beside me with gumboots and super annoying, hardly-used-for-rain, more-for-accidentally-hurting-people-with kid umbrella; and Boy 3 in the pram. Why is the pram continually heading towards the gutter? Oh look! A flat tire! How wonderful and I have no time to fix that . Never mind, it's only flat on the bottom (boom, boom!). I can press on, it's really not that far.

"Mum, mum why are you going so fast?" Says Boy 2
"I'm really not going that fast 'cos I can't control this crazy pram!" I kindly reply through gritted teeth. I've closed my umbrella by now. It wasn't doing much anyway, it was that sleety rain that seems to just hover in the air and make you wet no matter what!

So I'm arm wrestling my way down the street. Not the foot path, there is none, we're on the actual road and I'm fighting with my pram like it is one of those possessed shopping trolleys and suddenly it feels lighter somehow. Oh look! There's the good wheel. ON THE GROUND BEHIND ME! "You've gotta be kidding me!" is all I can think.

"Boy 2, do you think you think you could pop the wheel back on for me?"
"Oh yeah! Sure thing Mum!" Is his I'm-only-too-happy-to-help reply.

So I'm balancing the pram on the flat tire, trying not to tip Boy 3 over while Boy 2 attempts to pop the wheel back on. He lines it up with the hole. "Good job". He pops the end in the hole. "That's great! Now push it in"
"Ok!" He says. Then he stands up and starts kicking the wheel! He's kicking and kicking but it is doing bugger all because it's not straight, so I need to do it myself. I get it in, but I can't get it to lock in (no doubt why it fell off in the first place...better get Mr Awesome to look at it), never mind, we're very close now.

 We finally get to the car and I've got minus 5 minutes to spare! I've become "You forgot me mum"! I get Boy 3 out of the pram and he chucks a wobbly. The floppy I-will-not-make-it-easy-for-you-pick-me-up kind which turned into the rigid you-will-not-bend-me-into-the-car-seat kind!

When we finally get to the kinder I do the perfectly legal "you guys can just wait in the car while I quickly get Boy 1" move. Boy 1 is very happy to see me but is a bit disappointed that he's not going to get to read a story now...Guess it doesn't matter if I'm little late next time!