"Play Date Desperation"

"Mama, you have winks?" Dumpie asked this morning as he stopped outside the loo and stood solemnly surveying me. (For those of you who don't know, this is the name the boys use to refer to their wee bits of manhood...)

"No Dumps, only boys do, like you and Eggie and Dada", I said, bemoaning the fact that I had chosen to wear skinny jeans and was having trouble pulling them up.

This apparently wasn't a satisfactory enough answer, so Dumps came in for a closer look, hands behind back, bending over forward like a bemused gynecologist to inspect my nether regions at closer range.

"Dumpie, stop it!" I said, trying to gently push him out the door, "I told you Mama doesn't have a winks!" Urgghhh, is there NO privacy in this home? And how on earth can my day turn out alright when it begins with a frustrating argument with a belligerent toddler about whether or not I have a penis?

I am so exhausted today. I don't know whether it's because I still have remnants of that horrible mouth infection filtering through my bloodstream and infecting every organ and cell, or whether it's just because I feel entirely snowed under by my behemouth 'to do' list.

I have a keen Pakistani kitchen fitter incessantly ringing me to bully me into making my mind up about a desperately needed refurbishment for our rental flat, a 5th birthday party to plan for Egg next month with at least 14 of his classmates (oh dear), some new songs which need some creative tweaking, 'play dates' to arrange for several of Egg's friends who we owe a return visit to, and the monstrosity that is the boy's giant built-in closet which has been screaming for attention for months now.

Currently I am trying to survive a play date. Having pulled out all the crafts and activities we possess (buying me about 20 minutes tops) I have resorted to letting Egg, his little friend, and Dumpie throw cars down the stairs - further demolishing the delicate plaster on our walls. It doesn't help that after everything I suggest Eggie yells out, "Boring!" provoking a copycat yell from Dumps, "Boring!" Earlier I caught them all outside on the terrace throwing several of our possessions over the edge of the terrace (typical) and 'sword fighting' with long bamboo sticks.

The problem is of course that Egg takes after his father somewhat and has been known to just wander off and get so preoccupied with his pocket Nintendo that he forgets his friend is over and now sits bored and abandoned in the hallway by themselves (sorry by the way to all those mates of my husband's who have been left bewildered in our front room when he has wandered out never to return...engrossed in his computer and oblivious to the fact that he has left wife and well-meaning friend in a state of polite but awkward silence).

It doesn't help that Dumpie expects to be included - the fact that he's only two hardly the point. Moreover, he becomes rather possessive of all toys when someone new is over and after rudely demanding the object, if not appeased will simply rip the toy out of the unsuspecting child's hands and run away. I end up tense for the whole 2.5 hours, tearing my hair out trying to amuse and appear amused...wondering what on earth they are going to tell their parents about our shambolic household when they get home.

Bring on the teenage years I say. Listening to loud music, monosyllabic muttering and general disdain for parental figures is A-Okay with me as long as they stay in their bedrooms and leave me in peace.

I stare longingly at the half bottle of wine we didn't manage to finish last night, but realise that assuming the little boy doesn't have any obvious wounds when his parents come to pick him up, the last thing I want to do is start the rumour wheel at school running, with me labelled as a drunkard.

Though saying that, I imagine it would have the effect of stopping play dates altogether...Hmmmm...