A day to write off as a bad experience.

And then it was Sunday…

Having had a bad night’s sleep on Saturday, with a little visitor (“Mum I’ve had a bad dream”) arriving at some unearthly hour… I woke to face the day.

It was dark, gloomy and raining.  A good analogy for my mood. 

No 2 child arrived and the fighting broke out.

“I want to cuddle the dog.”

“There’s no space.”

“He hit me.”

“For Beeps sake…  It’s SUNDAY MORNING.  GIVE ME A BREAK.”

“Can we have pancakes?”

“I don’t want pancakes.”

“SHUT UPPPPPP.”

Right.  There was homework to be done.  No 1 comes in sobbing.  He thinks he’s left wallet and all £30 savings in the park.

I nearly let rip.  Why?  How would you do such a stupid thing?

“It was in my pocket, so I took it out because we were playing with the water bombs.  And I think I left it there.”   He sobbed.

OK.  Get your clothes on.  Go and check in the park.  Obviously, there is another delay in GETTING THE HOMEWORK DONE!

No 2, feeling a sense of solidarity, decides to go and help look in the park for the missing wallet and money.

After a fruitless search of the park, No 1 comes back to the house, having had a brain wave. 

“Mum, I think I know where I left it.” He says.

And yes.  There it was, somewhere obscure in the bedroom.

And then, everything starts to cheer up.

“Come back… I’ve found my wallet.” No 1 shouts to No2, who is still looking around the park.  “I’ll buy you some sweets.”  He continues.

I sigh with relief.  Glad to know that my child isn’t as daft as I had thought he was – and that his generous spirit had returned!

Having got dressed, I went downstairs.  I went into the kids playroom to see what was going on.  Well, it looked like a bad day in Beirut. 

The day before, they had had friends round.  The very friends they had been making water bombs with.  Only, as well as making water bombs, it transpired that the little ones had decided to make mud pies.  They had been ferrying water from the downstairs toilet to the garden.  Muddy footprints and water trashing the carpet along the way.

In addition, they must have taken every game and toy out of their boxes.

I hit the roof. 

“If you want pancakes today, you’d better get a grip and tidy up this mess.”  I shrieked.

All this, and I hadn’t even got as far as putting the kettle on.

“I don’t want pancakes anyway.”  Repeats No 1.

“I do.” Says No 2.

Well, I’d promised pancakes. And pancakes it was.

The kettle went on and as I steeled myself to crack a few eggs for the pancakes, the howling started again.

“Mum.  We’ve LOST THE DOG!  She’s broken the railings on the balcony and she’s disappeared.”

Two sobbing hysterical kids stood before me.

I endeavoured to stay calm and not just pack my bags and leave home!

I went up to the balcony to discover that not only had the two dogs poo’d absolutely everywhere on the balcony, but had destroyed the railings between ours and our neighbours house.  Shit and mess everywhere!  Literally.

I could feel myself beginning to crumple.  I just wanted the kids not to fight, not to trash the house, and not to loose the bloody dog.

I stopped myself.  Thought hard about where the dog could be hiding.

“Have you looked under your bed?”  I asked No 1? 

“YEEEESSSSSSSS.  And she’s not there.” He sobbed.

There is a lesson here for all parents.  Never trust a sobbing child!

After a further 15 minutes fruitless search, calling round the house and garden for the bloody animal, I found her… you guessed it… under the bed.

Tears of trauma turned into tears of relief. 

But by this stage, quite frankly, I’d had enough.

The kids playroom still looked like a war zone.  Their bedrooms were even worse.  And having been reunited with their precious dog, all they could do was fight over who was going to cuddle her!

That’s when I just went “pop”.

I really couldn’t take any more.  So I left them downstairs, with the words:

“Tidy up your mess and GET ON WITH YOUR HOMEWORK” ringing in their ears.

I slammed my bedroom door shut and lay on my bed sobbing.

Sometimes there really is only so much anyone can bear.

I finally recovered my frayed nerves and went back downstairs to face the kids, make the pancakes and get them to do their homework.

As the chores were done I gradually calmed down.  And then, at tea time, two little kids appeared.  Each clutching a piece of artwork they had made for me.

“World’s Best Mum” read one.

The other was just a big heart, with glitter and tinsel around it.

It’s amazing but after the chaos of the morning, two little people had just made my day!