So, today has been a bad day. Oh hell, who am I kidding, its been a bad week. One of those weeks when Biggest and Smallest have failed so miserably at this behaving themselves malarkey I am seriously considering Googling whether or not they came with a return policy. I have had a cold, (by ‘have had a cold’ I mean, ‘have been battered over the head with a blunt object, dragged around the block by my feet twice and left for dead in a dumpster by a cold’). Its one of those god awful colds that bung you up so bad you are scared to go to sleep, because you are pretty sure your brain will forget you need to breathe through your mouth and you won’t wake up in the morning. I’m sure Biggest and Smallest can sense the weakness in me. Like a pair of lions on the hunt. Normally at this time of night I sneak up and gaze upon their angelic little sleeping faces and all the troubles from the day melt away. Not tonight. Tonight those troubles are still at Arctic temperature.
My two little hurricanes have taken misbehaviour to whole new level the last few days. Yesterday I spent the day in bed with a whopping great sinus headache and achy bones and a nose like a tap, leaving Mr O to cope with them single-handedly. Poor man didn’t know what had hit him. They damn near drove him into the ground. When I arose from my sick bed I was greeted with an expression half, ‘Oh, so you’re up, hope you’re feeling better’ and half, ‘Oh please, for the love of God, save me’. I admit I may have laughed a little at his despair, but that laughter is ringing in my ears today I can tell you. They have run serious rings around me. Between the two of them they have:
1) Ruined my roast chicken by switching the oven from bake to grill. I didn’t notice for an hour and a half leaving me with a chicken burnt on the top and raw on the bottom.
2) Let themselves in the bathroom and squirted toothpaste and shampoo all over the floor, then tried to clean it up with two entire rolls of toilet paper, then tried to flush the evidence thereby blocking the toilet. I swear they are ninjas or something. I left them in the front room building a tower and have no idea how they got up our creaky old Edwardian staircase without being heard. The very same staircase I have to sneak up during Smallest’s nap without waking him, a mission I quite often fail at as its pretty much akin to standing next to his cot practising on a set of bagpipes.
3) Unfolded all the washing I had just folded under the pretence of putting it away. Because washing goes away on the floor in the dining room apparently.
4) Drew on the wall in the hallway with the pens I have banned them from using. For drawing on the wall in the hallway.
5) Listened intently to my instructions not to touch anything at the supermarket before we went in and then proceeded to knock apples all over the floor three steps from the door. Whilst I was picking up the apples they loaded up my basket with bags of onions. Whilst I put the onions back, they poked holes in plastic wrapped packets of asparagus with their fingers. Then of course, they went completely and utterly mental when I explained there would be no special biscuits this trip because they’d been too naughty. Might as well have told them I was locking them in their rooms the rest of their lives.
6) Hid in the cupboard under the stairs making me think they’d somehow got out of the house because they never answered my desperately calling them multiple times whilst frantically searching the house from top to bottom. Luckily Smallest decided he had enough of the dark and yelled out for me about two seconds before I began banging on the neighbour’s doors to see if they’d spotted two small people high-tailing it down the street. Like I said, they are a couple of bloody ninjas.
All of this was punctuated with bouts of the usual bickering, snatching, pushing, poking, shouting, all out red-neck-drunk-on-moonshine style brawling…. I think they have spent more of the day in Time Out than out of it. And yet they’ve somehow still, despite the lack of free time, managed to drive me to the brink of insanity.
Every now and again I joke about packing Biggest and Smallest off to New Zealand to my parents, ‘The Grandies’. My parents always laugh and say they’d love to have them, they’re welcome anytime. Well, my beloved parents, if you are reading this, I’ve bought the wood, and I shall commence building a couple of crates tomorrow. They say Grandchildren are a Grandparent’s sweet revenge. That everything you were as a child comes back in spades to haunt you as a parent. Well, the joke is on you now Grandies, the joke is on you. I shall be spending the money we have been putting aside for the kids for university on a holiday. I feel Mr O and I deserve it. We will see you when Smallest is eighteen. If you need us, we will be suntanning our hides in Hawaii. Life or death matters only please.