I don't understand

how no matter what time I get up on the days I am working we always seem to be running late.

Always.

So much so that we can be getting ready to go somewhere on a Saturday and I will be buzzing around, as you do, looking for shoes and bags and whatnot and Master 3 will say "Are we running late?"

Odds are the answer is yes.

So all the minis went back to school today. It was eventful.

I'll give you the background. Master 3 only recently turned 3. In turning 3 he had to move rooms at daycare. He didn't really like this so much. He and three other little boys are in a little bit of a "crowd". And the other three little boys were not moving room. By now at least one has, but that is not really the point. At that particular time, when Master 3 was going to move rooms, he was doing it without his 3 little mates.

He was not happy.

To be honest I don't really blame him. Don't get me wrong, he always had a great time in the new room, but his mates were still in the old room.

So cue today. A mere 2 weeks following his change of room.

They have changed his room. Not him personally. The entire pre-kinder. So instead of being upstairs they are now downstairs. In what was the kinder room. So essentially Master 3 and Miss 4 have switched rooms.

My, wasn't that fun? Yes. No. No it was not.

Because then Miss 4 didn't want to stay in the new room because it wasn't the kinder room. Master 3 was in the kinder room, and she wanted to be in that room. Not the pre-kinder room.

Oh yes. It is that complex in the mind of young folks.

So anyway, I had to leave them both in a state of less than supreme happiness, which I hate. I abhor it in fact. And every time I have to leave them like that a little part of me dies inside and I always, ALWAYS get a tear in my eye.

And still have to drop Miss 5 at school.

So we get to her school and walk into her classroom and her teacher says "Who is this??! What is YOUR name? We don't even recognize you anymore!!" And Miss 5 says "It's ME!!!!" and runs around ensuring everyone knows that it really is her and she is back.

She missed a week. A whole week. That is an eternity in the life of a grade prep child.

She forgot her library book too. At least she only left it in the car. Not like the time she forgot her hat. And it was at home. And, funnily enough, we were already running late.... But I went and got it for her because I didn't want her to not be able to play outside. I have done worse.... When I accidentally put her in the wrong uniform one day (full winter uniform instead of sport uniform) I came back from working in the city, brought her uniform to her, and then went back to work in the city. 2 hour round trip.

You wouldn't have done it?

Maybe not. But she had been at her new school all of a week and I just didn't want her to feel "different" any more than she probably already did. And she is my baby. And I hate that she is upset at any time. And to be honest, if it was me, I would want my mum to bring the right uniform for me.

That is the best part about my new job - I am literally 4km from her school. So if something does happen, I can be there in a flash. I just adore that. Because she, and my other two babies, are my world. I do love my work, but it is so far behind in priority than my family.

Anyway, I digress, just for something new.

Big day at work, good to see.

Then pick up the mini folks from the new rooms and all was good so it would seem.

All was good on picking up Miss 5 from school.

And then we get home. And I dare to say it is Miss 4's day.

Well, Miss 5 had a dramatic episode. To say the least. Probably my favourite part of that was where she knelt down on the grass, bum in the air, just as a car drove past, and at almost exactly the same time as Master 3 tried to get something from Miss 4, unsuccessfully, and cracked a massive tanty. Right there. On the street.

I love it when that happens. When as soon as we get home, 1, 2 or all 3 lose their minds and start screaming, or hitting, or throwing themselves around madly.

And I just will them to get the hell inside so at least the neighbours don't see.

I'm sure they've seen.

I'm sure they've judged.

Meh.

And so the night was a night. Tantrums were had, pocks were treated with cream, and reading was done.

And they all went to bed. Eventually.

My eye is twitching.

It does that sometimes.

And the number of times it does it is directly proportional to the number of meltdowns, tantrums, episodes of toy-throwing madness that occur in a day.

Coincidence?

Oh yes. Coincidence. Suuuure it is.