My days usually begin by being smothered by a giant soaking wet pee nappy, as Dumpie climbs atop my head, bouncing up and down yelling 'WAKE UP MAMA WAAAAAKE UUUUUP!"
Egg climbs in on the other side with his stinky 'Bacon-the-bear' and begins earnestly asking all manner of questions....some mundane and random and some totally heavy and existential. At some point they grow bored or hungry (or both) and take off downstairs to get themselves some breakfast (unless of course they get sidetracked by whatever 'treats' we may have foolishly left within reach).
They are currently obsessed with taking their vitamins and Dumpie in particular seems to have a worrying fascination with anything pharmaceutical. At the first sign of a cough or even just a sniffle, he'll come racing up to me with the (thankfully childproof) bottle of children's 'Calpol' (ibuprofen), demanding I dose him up good and proper right there and then. Even if he's not sick but Eggie is, I am forced to give him a teaspoon as well or God help me.
The potty training continues to be a resounding UNsuccess...though tonight I had the pleasure of watching the boys stand in knee deep in bubbles during bathtime and wee on each other. The water turned yellow and I turned green. Urggghh. Remind me why little boys are so great again?
Tomorrow our new cleaner starts, which is great news, for try as I might (and i do - for HOURS each day) I can simply not keep this place up to scratch. I blame it on a mostly testosterone fueled household and more dirty pants than I know what to do with. Our washing machine kind of works at the moment and kind of doesn't, which basically means that I can either add another task to my ridiculously long 'To Do' list or I can continue to cram our laundry baskets full until they explode. I'm doing the latter.
Tonight I've put the boys to bed five times already, and just now I've heard some toys come crashing down the stairs, so better make that SIX and counting. Dumpie continues to chant, "Want own bed like Eggie's" over and over (.....and over) and I suspect that until we get him one he's going to continue pole-vaulting over the side of his cot and potentially do his robust body some irreparable damage. At the moment he's favouring the option of jumping into Egg's single bed to go 'Meepming' (sleeping) together, and I don't have to tell you what a bad option that is.
My mouth is still a mess (I almost made it through without mentioning it), and so all I have to look forward to tonight is a mango puree and some second-rate telly. Actually, 'The Apprentice" is on so at least I can let off some steam by shouting at the idiotic half-wits competing for a £100K a year job in the real world.
Ahhh...the real world...remind me - what is that again?