"I Won't Be Coming In Today"

Right now I'm breathing a sigh of relief as I sit at the kitchen table sipping a mug of extra-strong Italian roast cappuccino (which my husband so kindly left for me before cycling off to work...what a sweetheart...it's that kind of care and consideration that makes you love your man). Anyway, currently I'm relying on two little men ("Big Cook & Little Cook") to keep MY two little men at bay. The jumping, leaping off sofa's and screaming I heard earlier has subsided and they appear to be firmly ensconced in their cartoons - which is great. I rang Egg's school earlier to say that he wouldn't be coming in again. Truth be told he probably could handle it, but his cough is still bad, he's only 4, and I obviously come from the breed of mother with pushover tendencies.

I am however dreading the rest of the day because I still have my killer toothache (which shows no signs of going away, and which my dentist seems unable to diagnose) and it's worrying me greatly, and because for some reason Egg, when he's ill, gets EXTREMELY hyper and runs around like he's on speed or something. I swear, at one point yesterday he appeared to be foaming from the mouth and I literally couldn't get him to sit still for a moment to talk to me. (The fact that our cleaning lady was witnessing this chaos was just an added bonus. I can only imagine what she thinks or tells others about us sometimes.) Of course Dumpie is delighted to have his partner in crime back in the homestead, and will not only copy what he does but try to out do him in terms of naughtiness in order to gain his approval. If this means making a kitchen avalanche of hundreds of markers and crayons, so be it. If it means taking black marker and scribbling on our pristine white walls, then so be it. If it means shaking a carton of juice and spilling it over both their heads for amusement, then he will consider his punishment well worth the hysterical giggles it elicits from his older brother

Speaking of older brother, Dumpie just padded into the kitchen in his pj's, demanded not one but two oranges and then toddled back out to the front room. As I have witnesses many times previously, he has already taken up his role as 2nd sibling with willingness and efficiency, and will happily do Egg's bidding - especially if it involves food or snack procurement. So likely Egg has nudged Dumpie and said something along the lines of, "Dumps, go and get us some oranges..." and Dumps has grunted his agreement and come to do his bidding. Of course, this sometimes backfires as if the snack is too yummy to resist, it is not uncommon for Dumps to take the long way back and hide out in the dining room to finish off both snacks before turning up vague and empty-handed. Little scamp.

Yesterday as I was getting them ready for bed, Egg turned to me and said, "Mama, I was a good boy today wasn't I?" I paused, thinking about how to phrase my answer without scarring him for life (I mean you can't exactly say, "No Egg. Today was utter hell. I had fantasies of fleeing you all and wanted to tear my hair out and cry for a million years and fear my life has disappeared amidst a mountains of dirty nappies and plastic toys!"....can you?) So instead I said, "Well for the most part you were Eggie." He seemed to accept this, then came back with, "Well Mama, if you forget about all that craziness in the afternoon then I was a good boy wasn't I?" I had to agree with that. If afternoon hours constitute say 11am-5pm then yes, he was a rather good boy.

On that note, I'd better be off. No doubt as I sit here quietly typing away on my beloved Macbook (which bears all the marks of having been tampered with on multiple occasions...the blue electrical tape holding together my power cord where it's been chopped in two places...the gammy 'f' key which has had too much orange juice spilled on it to be well and truly functional anymore...the bottom right-hand side which has had the plastic covering picked at...) the boys are busy staining my expensive soft throws with bits of sticky orange, and wiping their sticky fingers across our 'dry cleaning only' cushions.

My time is up. This twenty minutes constitutes all the 'me' time I am likely to get today. I wish I could call in sick for myself...only I don't know who I would have to address that call to.

"Hello? Yes, this is Natasha speaking. I'm afraid I won't be able to function in any normal capacity today. So I'm just ringing to say that I shan't be coming in. I shall frankly be lying in my supremely comfy king-sized bed, attacking the growing pile of library books I never have time to open, and might even indulge in a soppy rom-com later today if I fancy it. Okay? Thanks ever so much for your understanding. Bye-bye."