05 May, 2017

The struggle is real.

So, this morning both kids were up at half five.  This in itself isn't exactly noteworthy, as it's happened frequently enough in the past that we're pretty used to it.  What is worth noting is that this morning, apparently I lost my ever-loving mind.

The kids were both dressed, provided with breakfast, and playing nicely together (for a change), so I decided in my ill-timed optimistic state of mind that I'd pop upstairs and get started on one of the myriad jobs I'd set for my morning sans bratlets.  I got stuck in sorting through bits in the bedroom, feeling massively productive and accomplished.  This should have been my first red flag.

The occasional shriek from downstairs notwithstanding, I motored through the sorting and made quite a dent in the chaos.  I ruthlessly tossed out stuff that had been hanging around in the bedroom for goodness knows how long.  I cleaned surfaces, chased dust and cobwebs, put things in their rightful places.

That's when I heard the elephant ascending the staircase.

Said elephant this morning was hers truly, the Madam, and the tidings she bore were not exactly auspicious.  In her delicate paws she clutched the cheery red lid of the toy teapot that inhabits the bratlets' play kitchen.  In the cheery red lid of the toy teapot was a puddle of blue goo.  Said blue goo turned out upon further inspection to be toothpaste.

I'm sure you can guess how quickly I made it downstairs to inspect the damage.  Damage there was.  Not only had the boy beast put toothpaste in the teapot, he had also been in the sink in the bathroom.  The tap was still running, and the puddles in the floor showed exactly where he'd been as his feet (now without the socks he'd been previously wearing as he'd soaked them during his travels) had left trails for me to follow.  With a towel, of course.  He'd poured water in every available container he could get his hands on.

It took me a solid twenty minutes to clean up the carnage he'd created, almost exactly the amount of time it had taken him to make it in the first place.  I'm still pretty sure it wasn't worth the tidying spree I'd managed upstairs, and I'm pretty sure I won't attempt it again anytime soon.

Lessons learned?  I can't turn my back.  I can't look away.  He cannot be trusted.

Le sigh.


17 April, 2017

I ate'nt dead.

It's been a while.  Like a year and a half while.  I know, believe me, I know.

Mostly, it's been a case of.. well, a case of this.


The Dervish.  The Whirlwind.  The Destructor.

The Dude.

From emptying any container of any liquid he finds on any available surface to attempting to drop a deuce on the playground in Black Park, the kid keeps me on my toes.  He's not done any permanent damage (yet), so I guess I should count my blessings.

The She Beast, you know, this one...


... she's doing remarkably well, considering.  There's still high drama should She be crossed, but school is going swimmingly and she's growing up at a terrifying rate.

Himself is still kicking as well, working his usual magic for the companies in whose financial pies he waggles his fingers.  Plus, he's becoming quite the silver fox, so bonus points for yours truly.

My life is about par for the course.  Hands full with bratlets, serving as parent governor at Madam's school, working Saturdays at a local barbershop since just before my last post on here, catering the occasional job, winding down my role with the NCT after over five years volunteering.  I'm trying to decide where I go next, as in September the manchild starts school (and where did that time go??) so I'll have time to work properly again.  Work at what?  There's the question mark.  Guess it's time for some serious planning.  I'll keep you posted, hopefully in less than a year and a half this time.