Make it to school, drop off cupcakes for entry into Godzilla’s class’ show day competition, swear a lot at the teacher, head over to Monkey Boy’s class room to find Chippie and find out what I’m supposed to be doing for the day.
Handed a 4 inch thick folder, complete with phone numbers, list of students I have (my own – damnit, I asked for some good ones! – his bestie and 3 others who I’ve had nothing to do with before) and a map of the Melbourne Show and vague instructions on what we’re supposed to be doing.
Placed into groups to wait for the bus. Our’s is 20 minutes late, we get to the show at 10 and just in time for it to start to rain. Before we even get into the gate, one of “my” kids starts complaining and asking why we can’t go on the rides. Then why they can’t get showbags. About 936 times in the 36 steps it takes us to get to the entrance.
Watch some pig diving, and head off on the walk around the show, with a horse lover, and animal hater and 3 boys, one of whom is still asking why we can’t get showbags, when can we go on the rides and not getting the fact that he is really beginning to piss me off.
Wander around a bit more, looking at various animals, rolling eyes at conversations involving words like “horse’s bum” and “ball sack” and “udder” – apparently an uttterly (or udderly – hahaha) hilarious phenomena.
The rain continued until we found somewhere for lunch, sat and ate, I, out of desperation, purchased a coffee that cost something like $800 (for the small) and which was utterly disgusting. Very disappointing.
And not good for the kids, one of whom thought the baby lambs were gorgeous, one still hating animals, another still asking about show bags and rides, and the other two talking about penises and other, equally uproarious things.
After threatening to lie on floor and throw a very loud, arms and legs flailing type tantrum if I was asked one more time if they could get a showbag or go on a ride, he let up for about 15 seconds before starting again.
Took them to see the chooks and other fowl. Mostly in the hope that the fowl would be louder than the kids, and quite possibly less foul, and would drain out there incessant annoyingness.
Although close, the kids still managed to be louder, one racing off here and there because the chooks/ducks/turkeys were “so cute”, another couldn’t stand them and Monkey Boy stood in front of a rather large and noisy turkey, copying it’s noise and it answering back. This kept him and bestie entertained for a few minutes, with 5th child asked if we could go on a ride now.
Thankfully, the chooks drowned out my very loud and frustrated scream, and we left, because it was nearly time to leave. And I really, seriously didn’t want to miss the bus back to school.
Half an hour till bus time and the skies, which had been dripping all days, opened up and dumped on us, just to make sure we really were wet.
Boys went feral and started wresting, in puddles and under drippy roofs, until I pulled out the mum card and told them we would walk back to the start and they could sit in the rain for half an hour while we waited for the bus. Must have done it well, because they didn’t argue (except for “I wasn’t doing anything, and can we go get a showbag now?”) and stopped immediately.
Make it back to our groups meeting spot, in time to meet the bus, only to discover it was’t ours and had to wait half an hour before ours turned up. The door on this 1950’s model, painted white so as to pretend it wasn’t really one of those yellow 1950’s busses, was too small to fit the pram in, so I let the driver manoeuver it in for me.
Made it back to school just after the bell went, ensuring I missed absolutley everything about Godzilla’s show day at school. Still bucketing down, I have to get kids, pram, bags and a term’s worth of Godzilla’s papers and artwork to the car without getting it wet.
Race off to swimming lessons, where Chippie was saturated before we even made it in the door. Thankfully, he was so tired he wasn’t interested in going in, and I did get the opportunity to change him. Including the nappy he’d been in all day, as he hadn’t been out of the pram.
Got partly changed myself, for my meeting, friend rings to say she’d been caught up and organised to pick her hubby up, take him to where she was with her kids, drop mine off, grab her and off we go.
Make it 5 minutes late, get wet racing in, get wet coming out, drop friend home, she races in to get my kids so I don’t have to get Chippie out of car. Monkey Boy can’t find shoes, Godzilla upset about something.
Eventually make it home, grabbing takeaway on the way, managing somehow to not get wet, eat, throw kids in bath, get them in bed and contemplate bath myself … discover am too tired to even be bothered.
Not a good sign.
Switch everything off, climb into bed … something I’ve forgotten but can’t remember what?
Crawl, begrudgingly, out of bed and write up note from Tooth Fairy. Read over it, can’t decipher it, fix up typos and print it off …
Stagger back to bed and …zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz