Well, quite literally, today I feared for my life when I narrowly missed being fatally whacked in the head by the ten pound weight which came hurtling down the stairs, having been heaved by my uber-strong two and a half year old.
Poor Eggie didn't fare so well, as he was subject to two remote controls to the head, ending in tears and a not-in-the-least-contrite Dumpie casually admitting to the assault.
I do not know why, but today was probably the hardest day of parenting I have yet experienced. Eggie is somewhat apprehensive about his 15 strong birthday party tomorrow afternoon (like I'm not) so perhaps he was acting out as a result. Dumpie on the other hand turned into a 'Dennis the Menace' type character, meting out disasters one after the other, so much so, that just as I began to deal with one, another, even more urgent situation would present itself.
He refused to have a nap today, so that might be one probable cause of his absolutely diabolical behaviour all day, but I do remember thinking, "Take a deep breath...do NOT commit child abuse...you WILL regret it...honestly you DO love these children...and no, they are not monsters inhabiting your previous children's bodies..."
The day started with tears and high drama when Eggie point blank refused to dress up in the medieval costume the husband and I had furitively constructed between cups of coffee and with not two threads of creativity between us. Quite literally. An old MTV t-shirt, turned inside out, arms cut off and a big messy red cross scribbled on front, paired with one of my silver belts and a poorly constructed tinfoil crown, does not a proper knight make.
Fair enough. Still, in the end he looked okay....the piece de resistance being my shield made from yet more tinfoil and an old pizza base. Truly. Moments later on the way to school the crown and the shield flew into the road and one of them got run over.
You see his school had a medieval parade today and the street was hosting a summer carnival. So it was with much bemusement that Dumpie and I found ourselves joining the parade by accident to march in the glaring hot sun, waving to equally bemused onlookers as I hoisted my incredibly heavy toddler son a few paces behind my mortally embarrassed five year old.
Anyway I'm off to bed. The house has been cleaned and decorated within an inch of its life. True to his word the husband completed all the tasks I emailed to him in list form today (no nagging dontcha know). My only mistake was not to add more tasks to the list.
I can tell you that I was not terribly amused when half an hour ago having not stopped for a moment all night, I took yet another load of rubbish out to the curb. I just happened to glance across at the wine bar opposite, and lo and behold, there was my husband casually sitting at a table sipping a cold ale and reading his book.
He's lucky I love him. That's all I can say.