In which I shout too much

It should have been such a simple, perhaps even pleasant day today...Three children at school for the morning. I sat down to write a looooooong essay on abuse and vulnerability (fun) but Miss T refused noisily to have her morning nap so I spent an hour with her sat on my tummy, hitting me in the chest and forcing me to name, repeatedly, all the characters in her 'In the Night Garden' book.

Receive not unexpected phone call about Custard's behaviour at school mid-morning. Refuse (politely) to collect him early. On collection, he informs me that he has had a nice day, but they took away his shoes when he was on the naughty chair.

Me: Why?

Custard: Well I was kicking the teachers.

Me: Well it seems like a jolly good idea to remove your shoes then.
Make mental note to do that myself in future.

Return to school later with three children in tow, to collect FHB. Lose Custard. Lose my temper. Shout a lot. Custard is returned by a teaching assistant- he has been out on the main road. Realise I am a Bad Parent.

One hour later we are at the swimming pool. FHB shuts Miss T's fingers in changing room door. Much screaming. Takes me too long to notice what has happened as I am trying to find Custard. Extremely lovely lady offers to get me an ice pack. Her husband commends me on how well I'm doing with four children. I feel like a fraud.

Feed bored children sugary stuff, defeated.

Collect Mouse and deposit FHB in pool. I bend down to kiss Mouse and apologise for shouting at her. She headbutts me. I now have a fat lip and a baby with two purple fat fingers.

Spend next half hour trying to alternately ignore and reprimand my children, who are now climbing the dolphin bin. Mouse tries putting her head in it but says it smells. I roll eyes and try to pretend they are not mine. Meanwhile, Miss T pours bottle of squash over herself and her buggy. I strip her and she sits shivering with an ice pack, her legs covered in a wet towel.

On the way home Custard and Mouse have a discussion about whether she is his girlfriend or he is her boyfriend. I quash conversation by informing them it is not really allowed and one day they will want to kiss Other People. Cue a noisy round of  'BLEUUURRRRGH'. They do make me laugh these children of mine.

I leave the computer open to my essay and hear FHB reading aloud. Feel I should stop him, it is not a child friendly essay. Then hear him wondering why I am writing about A Bus. Smile to self.

As I write they are running an obstacle course around the living room. One is climbing the door jamb, another is about to fall off the coffee table. The cat is eating the remains of their dinner. I should intervene...

x