Auntie Ba and I were just chatting, and it was with some regret that she admitted that she wishes that she could allow me to go off for an afternoon and get a manicure, or tell me to get lost (in a good way!) for a few hours while she watches the boys. But that is SO not going to happen. As a 'second mom' to the boys I can't imagine anyone loving the Egg and Ollie more, yet even she has admitted that they are (and I quote) "too hardcore" to handle solo these days.
Okay, I admit it, they are out of control these days. Whether it's because they are boys, or because they're both rather precocious, or are genetically programmed to cause maximum familial disruption...I can't be sure. They have seemingly unlimited energy and either use each other as climbing frames/punching bags or they double up and cause twice the havoc in half the time (they can dismantle a nearly full fridge in under two minutes...or flood a room in less time than it takes to answer a phonecall).
Trauma of the day occurred in a busy department store early evening, where Dad had gone to buy some new beach towels. Once again I found myself in the footwear aisle (clearly shoes are a bad omen for me) but this time it was Auntie Ba's muted screams which alerted me to the fact that a giant puddle of pee was collecting between Egg's legs. Yep, due to the fact that public toilets often have hand dryers and they are on Egg's top 5 most hated list (along with lizards), he didn't bother to ask one of us to take him to the loo - he just took matters into his own hands (well not literally, but close enough).
I had to buy some shorts for him to change into, and we had to curtail dinner plans and go to Pizza Hut for a take-away pizza. While waiting for our Deep Dish Veggie Supreme Egg and Dumps begged quarters from Grandpa and went mental on the gumball machines conveniently located inside. Even when the change ran out they persisted in climbing on the machines and peering up into the candy slots and rattling the levers until Dumps actually got some candy out of one without any money. Is 17 months too young to get him started on the slot machines?
Anyway, i'm too shattered to moan anymore tonight. It's after midnight, and though I relish these boy-free hours late at night, the sweet temptation of my head hitting the pillow is too much to resist. Around 6am i'll be awoken by Egg, who will in turn wake up Dumpie and feed him snacks in the cot, tossing them over the side, until I am alerted by screams or just anxiety-inducing periods of absolute silence (even scarier) at which point I will drag myself up and begin the hassle of breakfast, wherein I will try and reason with two toddlers that breakfast cereal is the ideal way to go as opposed to powdered donuts.
Dumps will throw his first item of the day off the balcony and I'll trudge downstairs in my polka-dot boxer shorts (now a common site I'm sure) and retrieve some mangled toy or important possession of Grandpa's and wonder, in the words of David Byrne, "How did i get here?"