Once again we were alerted to the disaster by Egg who entered our bedroom clad only in Thomas the Tank Engine briefs and nothing else. He looked mildly concerned but resigned as he informed us that there was a 'big problem' which was actually a 'disaster' downstairs in the kitchen. When pressed he admitted that all of the 'coffee chocolate' (ie. my gourmet cappuccino sprinkles), peanut butter and raisins had been eaten, and that he had tried to clean up but had lost the cloth in the sinks garbage disposal unit.
That was the trigger of course that had me leaping out of bed and downstairs where I came careening into the kitchen to find my almost 2 year old sitting atop the counter, covered in chocolate powder, peanut butter smeared in his blond wispy chicken fluff hair and grinning from ear to ear. I carried the giggling little gnome straight upstairs to Jay, deposited him in his bedroom and told him to keep them up there until I could change the kitchen from disaster area to something resembling normality.
With such a great start to the day it goes without saying that things could only get worse...and they have. After five major clean-ups of the kitchen (I refuse to continue counting for today on the grounds that it will make me too depressed and feel marginalized as a 'domestic slave' and cliched feminine object of pity), two loads of laundry, and homemade oatmeal raisin muffins concocted, my day has gone from lame to...lamer. To make matters worse it has been an utterly horrible day outside and much too wet and cold to venture forth with two hyperactive and bored little boys.
My dental visit yesterday has (as I had pessimistically but accurately predicted) left me with MORE pain in my mouth and luckily my sister donated two extra strength but expired mystery painkillers which she obtained in her travels in Southeast Asia sometime in 2002. They have been some relief. But then, so has the half-bottle of fine rioja I imbibed last night waiting for my work burdened husband to return home.
Now of course it is dark outside, the children have trashed the front room (I know this from not having gone in there but seeing that one of the sofa's is now in an entirely different position and blocking the entrance...not a good sign, and right up there with the frantic outbursts of giggles issuing forth from yonder, which fill my lethargic heart with dread. Jay of course has been on his computer all day preparing for a big presentation he has for work next week in Sweden. My one half-hearted plea for him to spend a little time with the children today was met with a barely audible murmuring about putting roofs over ones heads and all that. It was enough to send me fantasizing about seeking out our largest saucepan and whacking him over the head with it much like a reinactment of a 'Looney Toons' cartoon caper scenario. Having calmed down a little while later I ressurected this particularly shameful fantasy when my husband casually mentioned that he shall be attending SOLO a big all-night birthday bash of a mutual friend in a few weeks time.
When I pointed out how unfair this was, he said that he had been asked all the way back in June, and that if I wanted to come, much like Cinderella, I had to find a babysitter (one that would be happy to stay here all night and possibly through the next morning, with no criminal record, who our children would feel comfortable with, and not terrorize with their kitchen hijacking antics). He and I both know that to be highly unlikely, and so with a dejected air I have retreated to the space in which I fruitlessly spend most of my waking hours scrubbing, scouring, wiping, mopping, sorting, loading, etc. to console myself with some temporary peace. (He is in the dining room which is next door to the front room and therefore first point of call for the disaster which awaits us in the front room where the boys have been 'playing' unsupervised for over half an hour...). Ah well, nothing that a homemade rice krispy square can't fix.