My Tuesday started off at midnight when I still wasn’t in bed. I’m crocheting a beanie for Rainbow Knits and I finally sussed out how to attach the rainbow as part of the hat. I meant to have an early night, too, after spending most of yesterday feeling dizzy and lightheaded from lack of sleep (thanks, sleepless Midi Minx). Still, by 0045hrs I was in bed.
At about 0115hrs, Midi stumbled into bed. I was too tired to shift her back to her own bed, even when she thrashed around, so gave The Boss a shove to make enough room for me to sleep on my side like a sardine, then passed out.
It started going downhill properly at 0255hrs. I’d rolled over in my sleep to give Midi a cuddle and rolled over onto a massive, cold, wet patch. She’d peed herself and not woken up. Arrrrgh! Stand to! Stand to! The Boss dead-armed a dripping Midi to the bath to shower her down; I stripped the bed. Although we still use a waterproof undersheet in case of kid accidents, Midi had fragged the (newly-laundretted) duvet. Double argh! So Midi snuggled into her nice, dry, warm bed while me and The Boss huddled under a random collection of kids’ spare blankets. In cotbed size. I may not be a whale anymore, but I’m a bit longer than a cotbed.
Maxi came trilling into the bedroom around 0600hrs, chirping about wanting help attaching her fairy wings to her outfit. I don’t think she understood my slurry words, but she sure got the underlying message and hotfooted it back to her bedroom with a screech. Which woke up her youngest sister.
Mini then woke up again around 0720hrs with huge stinky poo leakage and bright red nappy rash. Great. Still, after she calmed down (around half an hour after cleaning her up) I got on with giving her a more leisurely breakfast than normal. Except she upended it all over the floor. As an encore, she tipped her beaker of milk s-l-o-w-l-y down her front. Then sat there looking smug. And expectant (would Mummy say any more cool words? Would she shout? Would I finally get my own way and not have to wear this stupid frilly dress?)
While I was away trying to find something to mop up the mess, the cat came bounding in and splashed through all the mess on the floor. She didn’t bother giving it a lick, just danced around in the slop for a bit, then legged it, leaving a long trail of mushy pawprints behind her.
Sod it – most of it could wait till after the school run. I put the kettle on for the second coffee of the day. Just as I was raising it to my lips, Maxi yelled from the living room, “Daisy Cat’s pooed on the carpet!”
I honestly looked round for cameras. This has got to be a joke, right? Someone’s doing all this to get a good laugh at my reaction, yes? No. Luckily The Boss discovered last week that the little dustpan makes a brilliant carpet scraper. And it wasn’t cat poo – it was cat vomit. Daisy had barfed her entire pouch of Felix ‘Shrimp and Plaice’. Whiffy…
I think the local road workies must have got a message that my eyes were whirling in opposing circles this morning and cleared off just in time – if any of those fat layabouts had blocked my path (and the accumulated 6 stone weight of double buggy with flat tyres and turning circle of the QEII) this morning, I think I’d have vaporised them with a single look. Instead the stupid sods had blocked all the pavements entirely with far too many massive signs helpfully pointing out the unmissable-roller-coaster-like RAMP across the road. I think I may have torn a stomach muscle or 3 manoeuvring the double buggy onto the road and back around all the stupid signs.
I decided not to go swimming with the girls this morning after all*.
*To be fair, I decided that last night when Midi was running a bit of a fever, had a runny nose, and was so out-of-sorts that she’d been bitten at nursery by the local thug. On a normal day he’d have been felled with a single Midi swipe before his teeth had touched her skin.