Thomas is incredibly aerodynamic.

You wouldn't think it. But he is. And this particular Thomas is rather weighty too, being that he is a "pushing" engine.

And when said aerodynamic Thomas projects himself in the direction of an infected chicken pox lesion, well, let's just say tears follow. Many tears. Hysterical tears. And the comment by Master 3 that "It has jam on it." "That's blood little man. You drew blood." Blank stare.

So today was one of those days. They happen fairly regularly.

After having had the kids returned to me this morning after staying with he who rarely has them stay, enormous cuddles followed. And then the obligatory how is everyone, did you have fun, what did you get up to, and, of course, how are the spots.

And that was when I saw it.

It. A hideous, horrific, almost sickening sight. Miss 4's tummy pock was obviously infected. Largely. And so the first thing I did was to phone the clinic we had attended on Friday night to ask if it was okay for me to bring a handful of diseased children there. They agreed and said they would isolate us again, and off we went.

So we got there. Bundled into isolation but hang on a tic.... there is someone in there.... just wait in the hall..... "Mum, I'm hungry"... whip out a meusli bar for everyone..... get bundled into a room that was previously locked.... meusli bars are finished and in God's name why the hell did I not bring more food???? What. The actual. Insert swear word here.

I can tell you that keeping a 5, 4 and 3 year old entertained in a doctor's office is far more difficult than you would imagine. Aside from the obvious boredom, this doctor's office had a veritable myriad of drawers and cupboards, all of which contained things that small children should not touch. Ever.

And there is a computer. Yes, it was turned off. Following on from Master 3 expertly "typing" on the keyboard whilst attempting to do a full 360 on the swivel chair.

Twice a doctor walked past and said to us to be careful of the plastic mat which was broken, and then some minutes later in rocked the receptionist to remove said plastic mat.

And then children decided to hide behind the bed. And under the desk. And behind the bed. And under the desk.

And then Master 3 hid behind the bed, stuck his head up and, red faced, announced quite loudly "I'm doing a poo. Right now."

Thanks little man. Really.

"It's coming."

Great. I'm overjoyed.

And so in addition to attempting to restrain the children from removing everything from everywhere and essentially trashing the office, it was now being filled with a pungent odour that was getting stronger and stronger. And stronger.

And it was around then that Master 3 spotted a sultana on the floor, reached over, picked it up and said "Look!" and just as he was about to place it into his mouth I leapt across the room, as though I was the bodyguard putting myself between a bullet and its intended target and the sultana was flung to the ground.

Good. Lord.

And so it was nearly an hour before we finally saw a doctor. It was the same doctor we had seen on Friday night thankfully, as Miss 4 is not so fond of doctors.

So we all had a turn. Miss 5 went first. She has chickenpox. Fever. General stuff. No drugs.

Then me. I am on shingle watch. No drugs. I'll live.

Then Master 3. Still has an ear infection. Also chicken pox. Still on antibiotics. All good.

Then Miss 4. Tricky one. She wasn't too impressed. Again. Fabulous. But the doctor was great, made her feel as relaxed as anyone that wasn't me or the kids could make her feel, and I convinced her to lift her t-shirt to reveal the spot, and she did. And yep. Drugs. As you do.

So we got out of there, went to the chemist, and I bribed the kids with lollipops. Who cares. It worked.

The day was a long one. I think it is fair to say that.

We made 10 or so t-shirts. Made in that we bought the t-shirts and with stencils and fabric paint went hell for leather.

Note. If you are painting using stencils, don't put the t-shirts down to dry and forget to remove the stencils. They will stick. And you will then spend an hour, four hours later, with a pair of tweezers trying to remove the cardboard. Unless you wisely outlaid that bit extra for plastic stencils.

Note to self: Buy plastic stencils.

So we got through. Eventually. Not without Miss 4 hiding under the bed for 20 minutes screaming hysterically. Because I was cruel. Heartless in fact. I, wait for it, asked her to wash her hands.

I know. I don't know what possessed me. But I did it. And I'll do it again. I, well, maybe I am just without feeling. Who knows.

I got her out eventually. And washed her hands to boot. I'll chalk that one down as a massive score for the day.

It is so good to have my babies back though. Hugely "full" day and all. I love them to bits. They infuriate me wildly at times. At times I just can't let them go because I just want to keep hugging them. I love playing with them, rolling around and laughing and carrying on, as we did for much of the day, in between the dramas.

And even though I complain that they are in my bed most nights, not having them there felt almost wrong.

I do enjoy my time away from them. Because, well, it helps make the time I am with them easier. But I'm so so glad they are home. Even as I act as mediator while Master 3 rides Miss 5 who accidentally falls on Miss 4 and then it becomes a game of stacks on and who can make the most noise, they belong with me and I need them.

They complete me. My three.

And life is most certainly never dull.