Yesterday I was getting on with the boring tasks which seem to make up the bulk of my life these days when the phone rang. It was Jay.
"Aw Nis, you have to get down to Egg's school. They just rang and said that he's soiled himself."
"What?! Oh No!" I moaned, and quickly hung up the phone and scurried around for a change of clothes, wet wipes and whatever remotely relevant products I could find within reach. I raced out the door and minutes later was somberly directed towards the kiddies' toilets where my first born stood 'shittily' defiant and without remorse, inside the stall.
He neither appeared terribly bothered (either about my horror stricken face OR the small group of children who had gathered at the bathroom door and were staring in fascination at their newest classmate, trying desperately to break past one of the teachers - a kindly woman named 'Val' - clad in elbow length gloves and staring pityingly at me.
Looking me straight in the eyes she asked, "Is Jake toilet trained?"
I affirmed that yes he most certainly was, but she didn't look convinced. Apparently this had not been a simple case of a wipe job gone wrong, or even the typical 'load in the drawers' scenario. Nope. Jake had soiled first himself, then proceeded to 'soil' - manually - the two sofa's in the reading area, several unfortunately placed toys, and the entire inside of the toilet stall including the toilet itself.
Now you'll recall that we had a similiar incident involving our fecally-fixated Egg when he was but a mere toddler, and of course it was at home...behind closed doors.
This time however we had an audience, and crouched down on all fours, derierre escaping my skinny cord hipsters, my humiliation was complete.
It was not fun. It took a long time. Eventually I conceeded defeat and had to bundle his filthy lower half into clean clothes and slink out of there with as much dignity as I could muster. I was mortified. I still am.
Only a few weeks into his new school and already he's established himself as something of a character. Will the children remember and tease him mercilessly? Will he turn into a maladjusted adult with psychotic leanings...citing early childhood trauma as a cause? Will he forever be labelled as 'Poo Boy'? My poor little Egg. Saying that - if he pulls this stunt again there will be big trouble. Not only will he be boycotted from any decent school within a five mile radius, but I shall be forced to stop baking my beloved homemade bran muffins (of which it transpires he partook of yesterday...possibly more than one?...oops).
Wednesday, 30 January 2008
Tuesday, 29 January 2008
WE'RE BAAAAAAAAAACK!!
Ok Y'all, BIG apologies for being so quiet and absent for so long. In cyber terms we dropped off the face of the virtual earth when we moved and the phone company found themselves flummoxed with the straightforward task of appointing us a telephone number and hooking us up to broadband (a task they do about 10,000 times a day around the country).
At any rate, late last night around midnight we went LIVE once again, and I find myself maniacally typing away at my laptop whilst uploading new software and keeping half an eye on Egg and Ollie (who are wreaking havoc next door in the front room - last i checked Ollie was emptying the fireplace of coal and Egg was playing guitar with eyes glued to his favourite telly program 'The Night Garden')...oh well.
We've only just recovered from a very hardcore couple of months. If you've been following our trials and tribulations you'll know that in November we started packing up our old flat in preparation for the house move 1st December (which also coincided with the day that we were to fly to India for a two week holiday). Well we pulled it off (though it wasn't without casualty in the form of Auntie Ba who got deathly ill afterwards for ten days likely due to the nonstop childcare, lack of sleep, any nutricious meals and the insanity that comes from containing two stir-crazy monkeys 24/7 with no let-up.
At any rate, a week after we got back from India (which itself was very pleasant thank you very much) was Christmas and all the chaos which ensues as a result, and of course both boys got very ill with colds, and passed them onto the rest of us - my poor Dad taking the brunt of it (and who has only this week recovered from the nastiest virus in history).
Nonetheless Christmas was lovely (spirits helped on by copious amounts of champagne and the usual gluttony) and just after New Years we saw the arrival of my lovely in-laws who made the trip to see our new place and be here for Auntie Mo's wedding the first week of January. It was the first time we had ALL four grandparents in London at the same time and was nothing short of exhilarating for little Egg and Dumpie.
Auntie Mo being 'Auntie Mo' she swanned through the whole lead up to the wedding whilst the rest of us (mostly Auntie Ba, my mom and myself truth be told) killed ourselves trying to get everything sorted in time. It all came together beautifully on the day though - with Auntie Mo looking like a movie star of old in her glamourous silk gown and the rest of us yet again fuelled on by champagne and unbelievable amounts of delicious food. Weddings...what's not to love?
So you see, here at the wrong end of the year (or the 'right end' if you're an optomist and have someone in mind for cuddles on the approaching 14th of Feb) I find myself just beginning to settle into something which resembles normality (not for the average person of course - for me).
So much has happened in the past month that it would take a novel to contain it all, but suffice it to say that my little terrors have reached new levels of deviousness and inspire more fear than is healthy in me most days. I remember when I used to save up funny anecdotes to blog about...but these days it's more about editing OUT the bits that are too horrid to mention or too numerous to recount.
I shall leave you with a personal disaster which I still have not recovered from and which just about sums up despair of the toddler years I'm currently experiencing....
Last week I was cooking dinner and Egg was helping me with little clean up chores. The last thing I remember asking him was to empty out the bin in his upstairs bathroom (a lovely huge room with a large bathtub, toilet, bidet, and separate shower). Big mistake. Twenty minutes or so later (or maybe half an hour?) it suddenly dawned on me that it was quiet. Too quiet.
I ran upstairs and only then did the soundproofed walls give forth the sound of rushing water and as I appeared on the landing I saw a soaked one year old Dumpie slosh out of what appeared to be a swimming pool and onto a waterlogged hall carpet and disappear into his bedroom. I screamed.
Inside the bathroom was Egg, trouser legs rolled up, wading through 4-5 inches of water carrying a garbage bag in his hand and trying to pick up all the floating toys and debris swirling around the bathroom.
Words cannot describe my despair/anger/anxiety and without thinking about it I grabbed a huge container and started heaving bucketloads of water back into the bathtub like a maniac - trying in desperation to get the water level down before the ceiling collapsed (a very real scare if you saw what kind of water volume we were dealing with!).
Intermittantly I was frantically speed dialling Jay and Auntie Ba - hoping for a soundboard to vent and also advice on what to do when you find yourself wanting to wring your childs neck and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Jay raced home and arrived about 45 minutes later. By that time the place stank of mildew, our lovely new dining room table below was covered in water, the ceiling stained a hideous brown and spreading, and I was livid and in shock.
A week later the ceiling has still not dried completely, our lovely new home smells like an abandoned old cottage by the sea, and day after day the monsters are plotting and succeeding in tormenting me - their poor mother - in new and delightfully ingenious new ways.
Long live the blog...it just might be the thing which saves my sanity in the long run. Instead of locking them up in a cupboard like 'Flowers in the Attic' I will simply escape here to my laptop, pop a few happy pills (must look into getting some sort of a prescription) and smile idiotically while the walls fall down around me. Literally. Happy New Year all :)
At any rate, late last night around midnight we went LIVE once again, and I find myself maniacally typing away at my laptop whilst uploading new software and keeping half an eye on Egg and Ollie (who are wreaking havoc next door in the front room - last i checked Ollie was emptying the fireplace of coal and Egg was playing guitar with eyes glued to his favourite telly program 'The Night Garden')...oh well.
We've only just recovered from a very hardcore couple of months. If you've been following our trials and tribulations you'll know that in November we started packing up our old flat in preparation for the house move 1st December (which also coincided with the day that we were to fly to India for a two week holiday). Well we pulled it off (though it wasn't without casualty in the form of Auntie Ba who got deathly ill afterwards for ten days likely due to the nonstop childcare, lack of sleep, any nutricious meals and the insanity that comes from containing two stir-crazy monkeys 24/7 with no let-up.
At any rate, a week after we got back from India (which itself was very pleasant thank you very much) was Christmas and all the chaos which ensues as a result, and of course both boys got very ill with colds, and passed them onto the rest of us - my poor Dad taking the brunt of it (and who has only this week recovered from the nastiest virus in history).
Nonetheless Christmas was lovely (spirits helped on by copious amounts of champagne and the usual gluttony) and just after New Years we saw the arrival of my lovely in-laws who made the trip to see our new place and be here for Auntie Mo's wedding the first week of January. It was the first time we had ALL four grandparents in London at the same time and was nothing short of exhilarating for little Egg and Dumpie.
Auntie Mo being 'Auntie Mo' she swanned through the whole lead up to the wedding whilst the rest of us (mostly Auntie Ba, my mom and myself truth be told) killed ourselves trying to get everything sorted in time. It all came together beautifully on the day though - with Auntie Mo looking like a movie star of old in her glamourous silk gown and the rest of us yet again fuelled on by champagne and unbelievable amounts of delicious food. Weddings...what's not to love?
So you see, here at the wrong end of the year (or the 'right end' if you're an optomist and have someone in mind for cuddles on the approaching 14th of Feb) I find myself just beginning to settle into something which resembles normality (not for the average person of course - for me).
So much has happened in the past month that it would take a novel to contain it all, but suffice it to say that my little terrors have reached new levels of deviousness and inspire more fear than is healthy in me most days. I remember when I used to save up funny anecdotes to blog about...but these days it's more about editing OUT the bits that are too horrid to mention or too numerous to recount.
I shall leave you with a personal disaster which I still have not recovered from and which just about sums up despair of the toddler years I'm currently experiencing....
Last week I was cooking dinner and Egg was helping me with little clean up chores. The last thing I remember asking him was to empty out the bin in his upstairs bathroom (a lovely huge room with a large bathtub, toilet, bidet, and separate shower). Big mistake. Twenty minutes or so later (or maybe half an hour?) it suddenly dawned on me that it was quiet. Too quiet.
I ran upstairs and only then did the soundproofed walls give forth the sound of rushing water and as I appeared on the landing I saw a soaked one year old Dumpie slosh out of what appeared to be a swimming pool and onto a waterlogged hall carpet and disappear into his bedroom. I screamed.
Inside the bathroom was Egg, trouser legs rolled up, wading through 4-5 inches of water carrying a garbage bag in his hand and trying to pick up all the floating toys and debris swirling around the bathroom.
Words cannot describe my despair/anger/anxiety and without thinking about it I grabbed a huge container and started heaving bucketloads of water back into the bathtub like a maniac - trying in desperation to get the water level down before the ceiling collapsed (a very real scare if you saw what kind of water volume we were dealing with!).
Intermittantly I was frantically speed dialling Jay and Auntie Ba - hoping for a soundboard to vent and also advice on what to do when you find yourself wanting to wring your childs neck and on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
Jay raced home and arrived about 45 minutes later. By that time the place stank of mildew, our lovely new dining room table below was covered in water, the ceiling stained a hideous brown and spreading, and I was livid and in shock.
A week later the ceiling has still not dried completely, our lovely new home smells like an abandoned old cottage by the sea, and day after day the monsters are plotting and succeeding in tormenting me - their poor mother - in new and delightfully ingenious new ways.
Long live the blog...it just might be the thing which saves my sanity in the long run. Instead of locking them up in a cupboard like 'Flowers in the Attic' I will simply escape here to my laptop, pop a few happy pills (must look into getting some sort of a prescription) and smile idiotically while the walls fall down around me. Literally. Happy New Year all :)
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