Sunday Morning Moans From Southwest London...

Well they say 'start as you mean to go on' and as regards the day, I certainly have. Actually, let's back up to yesterday morning when my sister left for a few weeks in Florida (leaving her extremely naughty and extremely un-house-trained puppy 'Daisy' with us for the duration). Yesterday was horrid and rainy day and Jay had a car coming to pick him up at 2:45pm to deliver him to Heathrow where he was flying out to Chile for a week.

At 2pm I realised that this year I was going to be soley in charge or signing and posting our huge batch of specially ordered Christmas cards (Jake did the artwork at school and we had them printed up especially). At 2:10pm I realized that Jay wasn't going to have enough time to set up my laptop to the keyboard and mic so that I could make some music while he was away. At 2:15pm I realized that a section of our terrace fence had blown off in the blustering wind and was lying forlornly in the street below...and there it would stay. At 2:20pm I noticed that some of our light bulbs around the house had burnt out and so asked Jay if he could replace them before he left as we need all the light we can get in London in December (kind of necessity when it gets dark at 3pm these days). This request turned out to be a huge mistake.

At 2:45pm as we wait anxiously for Jay's car to turn up, he was swearing and cussing up a storm, perched precariously on a kitchen chair and trying valiantly to re-adhere our light fixture back onto the ceiling after it had come crashing down and blown a fuse throughout the first level. Eventually at 2:55pm the cabbie rang and Jay (eagerly, I couldn't help notice) jumped down and grabbing his suitcase yelled, "Just get in an electrician...you don't want to be in darkness all week!" Indeed.

To top things off, last night I had promised Egg an "Mama and Egg sleepover" in the 'Mama-Dada Bed'. He was not to be dissuaded, even though I was craving a hot bath and some alone time. So we put Dumpie to bed, who was utterly and totally affronted at such blatant favoritism, and he proceeded to scream and wail his dissent for the next hour or so. I can't imagine what the neighbors thought.

Eventually I got Egg settled after a little treat of his favorite Ben & Jerry's Phish Food ice-cream, and had just climbed into bed myself when Dumps woke up and started wailing. This continued on and off for the next few hours until I stormed downstairs, picked up the tear-stained, hyper-ventilating monster and brought him upstairs to sleep with Egg and I. Not only did this not succeed in settling him, but he managed to wake Egg up and then the two of them spent the next hour or so (bear in mind this is the middle of the night) giggling, pulling my hair, poking fingers in my ears, my nose, and turning the overhead spotlights on and off...and on and off again...and generally creating an atmosphere in which it was virtually impossible to sleep. I slowly but surely lost the will to live, and sometime in the early dawn I grabbed them each under an arm and deposited them unceremoniously back into their beds and forbade them to get up.

Next thing I know it's morning, and as I crept downstairs I noticed their door ajar and discovered that their room had been trashed. Everything was everywhere and it looked like it had just been used to film a scene from 'The Exorcist'...complete with mad crayon graffiti on the walls. Even the bed and cot had been moved halfway across the room.

Downstairs it was much as I expected. Chairs had been pushed up to the counter, cupboards had been plundered and my entire jar of drinking straws had been cut up into tiny pieces and lay scattered throughout the downstairs like confetti.

Things just went from bad to worse as I discovered that Daisy had deposited poo poo under the xmas tree, as well as several small puddles of dog wee throughout the house. Nonetheless I packed the boys off to watch morning cartoons, and busied myself clearing up the worst of the mess. Sadly we had to give the carol service a miss this morning, but given the state of affairs and my worsening mood, this was probably for the best. I can't imagine a lot of "fa-la-la-la-la's" exiting forth from my mouth this morning...more like "f___f___f___f___f___'s".

In an effort to get some perspective and take a break, I typed up a cathartic blog only to lose it in its entirety just as I was about to post it. (Although no great loss to the literary world, it was simply another nail in the coffin of my day.)

At any rate, the hours have passed rather predictably and with a blunt edge. Juice has been spilled, crumbs have been scattered randomly yet thoroughly throughout the vicinity, tantrums have been flung, ornaments have been hurled off the poor tree, and Daisy continues to use our home as a giant litter box. In between I have ferried the boys over to the cold, windswept and nearly deserted playground, and had a narrow escape with Daisy nearly dashing into oncoming traffic as I was bent over trying to untangle her leash from the pushchair wheels for about ten minutes in the bitter cold.

When I finally succeeded, I looked down and noticed that the leash, my coat and indeed my hands were covered in milky white street vomit, for that is where we had had the misfortune to stop. Pretty much sums things up...