What a day!
After the lengthy discussions on the way to school with Monkey Boy about the joys of searching through poo and the best places not to leave LEGO men, I return home. Chippie is fast asleep in his pram. Not uncommon.
What was uncommon, however, was that he then slept for the next two hours! Woo hoo. Except I was totally unprepared for it and didn’t make the most of my work time, which I usually leave until the afternoon, when he has a “decent” sleep. Relatively decent. Not text book decent or remotely like the 11 month children of many (not all) other mothers. I stupidly thought that he would also have this relativley decent afternoon sleep.
He woke in time for lunch, ate, then set about pulling my office apart, again, whilst I attempted to sit in on a webinar to improve my business. He then scaled the makeshift barrier we’d rearranged to further prevent him getting to the remaining LEGO men, landing face first on the other side (and with perfect timing for me to capture it with the camera).
I was overwhelmed by the need for something warm, chocolate and gooey, so whipped myself up a MUG Cake, ate it straight out of the MUG, attempted on several occasions to return Chippie to his cot for a sleep, which he flat out refused so attempted shower instead. I hopped in with him in sight, hopped out several times to do things like remove all toilet paper rolls from his reach and close the lid of the toilet. Find he has managed to locate a stray roll, suck in it, unravel it, tear bits of it off and fling them around the room, and eat other bits, to which he pulled a face. I roll my eyes and tell him, yes, toilet paper does taste like crap and remind him why I wanted him to avoid it.
He replied with a cheeky grin, ripped off more bits and flung them around, too.
Shower had, clean (yay, clean!) clothes donned, and I pick him up to attempt another sleep, which he clearly didn’t feel he needed. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t even look like he wanted one. I just wanted him to have one so I could do something productive. He promptly sneezed, leaving a sizeable splodge of snot in my cleavage. I seriously debate the merits of changing my top, and sit down to do some writing while he takes off with my To Do List … quite possible to eat or hide in some obscure spot never to be found again.
I give up, go pick the kids up from school, organise Grumpy to take Chippie to soccer with Godzilla, complete one large job that I’m fairly sure was on the List as I started it earlier today, deplore the fact that I miss out on the satisfaction of ticking it off, make dinner, timing it perfectly so that it is ready when the others get home from soccer and have ample time to do the “What’s for dinner? I’m hungry, I want to eat something. Can I have [insert name of food here and repeat infinite times with a different food item inserted at each “no” given by mummy]?”, cry, have a tantrum about having to wait for food, eat dinner, have baths, dress Chippie in his jarmies, let them all play a bit before bed and, finally, wonder where the hell Chippie managed to find himself some dirt to eat.
I did think, at first, it was from some MUG cake I’d inadvertently dropped on the floor earlier, but was pretty sure I got all that (and ate it).
No, on closer inspection, it was definitely dirt. Far too much of a weird day to even contemplate where he may have found it, so I just put him to bed …