ain't all that easy.
But then there are days when the kids just get along that bit better than usual, no clothes go astray and things just tend to flow well.
This was not one of those days.
Not by a long shot.
The day began at around 4. Or 5. Or who the hell knows when. All I know is that the birds heard Miss 4 come into my room and said "Seriously? This early?"
So into bed with me she hopped, as has become the norm of late. And later. And a short while later, as the sky changed hue by a minute amount such that it was obvious that daylight was a mere 'that would have been enough more sleep' away, the chant began. "Can I have breakfast?"
"Not yet, go back to sleep baby." I didn't even open my eyes. Or move.
One minute goes by.
"Can I have breakfast?"
"Not yet miss, go back to sleep."
"But I'm huuuuungry."
"Five more minutes."
"Hmph." *rolls around jumping up and down so much with the carry on that I was actually physically moved off the mattress*
One more minute passes.
"Muuuuuuum". It's Miss 5. Oh joy. Let's get everyone involved.
"Fine, I'll get up."
And the breakfast is made, well, poured into bowls, but not before the obligatory fight over who gets which bowl. And note to self - get bowls that are all the same colour.
So we finally get through all the morning stuff, I'm ready for work, kids are all dressed, Miss 5 is in the toilet, again, as she does, and we are literally about to walk out of the door when I hear a cry from Master 3. From the kitchen. And I go in and he is saturated. He has picked up my coffee mug, which I had filled with water, and proceeded to tip it all over himself. And got a tad bit of a fright in doing so.
So we strip him off, redress him, then out the door.
And of course it was windy last night so daycare is blocked off due to down trees. Fabulous.
But we get there. Eventually. And Miss 5 goes to the holiday program, and I go to work.
And then it's time to pick them up. And I had no warning. No warning at the pickup as to what would follow. For I picked up these children, who looked remarkably like my own, and brought them home. However once they exited the vehicle, I didn't recognise these, these, urchins. They were the devil incarnate. Between vacating their seats and exiting the vehicle something had possessed them. And it was not pretty.
The tears began before we even made it to the front steps. And when we came in the door it only became worse. And there were screams, and yelling, and throwing of fists willy nilly.
"If you don't settle down you can go without dinner."
Heaven. Forbid. Food is quite possibly the thing on which they place the greatest value in life.
Settled. For approximately 7 seconds. And then it began again.
And continued.
(Miss 4) "I'm going to be police when I grow up."
(Master 3) "Noooooo!"
(Miss 4) "Yes I am"
(Master 3) "No, don't, don't put me in jail."
(Miss 4) "I will"
(Master 3) "NOOOO!!!!"
(Me) "Don't put your brother in jail"
(Miss 4) "I will if he plays with guns"
(Me) "He's not going to play with guns"
(Master 3) "No I'm NOT going to play with guns"
(Miss 4) "Well if you do I'll put you in jail"
(Master 3) "NOOOOOO!!!!"
And repeat.
I couldn't wait to get the dinner on the table just to have them put food in their mouths to stop the noise.
And then the fighting again, once dinner was finished. And clawing. Yes, blood was drawn. And names upon the naughty list were placed. And I couldn't get these little urchin children into bed fast enough.
And even then it wasn't over.
(Master 3) "Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum"
(Me) "Yes"
(Master 3) "I don't want to go to bed"
(Me) "Well that's a bit of bad luck mate, because you're already there, and it's bed time"
(Master 3) "NO!"
(Me) "Yes. Good night. Love you."
And off I walk.
And repeat.
(Miss 4) "I want socks"
(Me) "I beg your pardon?"
(Miss 4) "I want socks"
(Me) "I beg your pardon?"
(Miss 4) "I want socks"
(Me) "You can ask properly"
(Miss 4) "I want socks"
(Me) "I beg your pardon?"
Repeat. Ad nauseum.
She does not have socks on.
I have a very large glass of wine.
Give. Me. Strength.
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