TGIF. Why do I care that it's Friday? Well for starters, it means a pizza take away and a bottle of wine this evening. And it means having my husband around for two whole days to help me with the beastie boys. And I do need help as I'm still not operating on full sleep quota following our holiday, which was meant to leave me feeling refreshed and revived but has in fact done the opposite.
This morning wasn't good. Having not been to nursery for two weeks, the boys weren't particularly keen on returning. They let me know this by refusing to get dressed. I finally cajoled the older one to get into his clothes as he'd get to wear his new Lightning McQueen shoes. But the younger one was not going to remove his PJs for anything. So I did what all parents short on patience do, and put him in the car with his pyjamas on. This resulted in a small boy with luminous skeleton pyjamas scream and writhe so much that it looked like he had actually wriggled out of his skin.
I had to body wrestle the older one into his seat, which I only managed once I'd threatened to drive off without him (not my finest parenting moment but you gotta do what you gotta do sometimes). They both howled all the way there and clung to my legs like limpets as I stumbled my way into the nursery trying to remain calm and unflappable. In the end it took two staff members to peel their claws out of my legs. I waved goodbye and bolted. Then I sat in the car and cried.
Upon returning home, I found the front door wide open. Being a paranoid South African I immediately assumed that I was being burgled. Turned out that my pre-occupation with trying to herd two screaming beasties into the car had robbed me of all brain power, resulting in me leaving the house not just unlocked by wide open.
I had two cups of coffee in quick succession, a chocolate muffin and took several deep breathes. And I commenced my day....
It's now pick up time. I suspect that the little one will have had a whale of a time. I expect the older one will have too. But he won't let me forget that I just abandoned him this morning and will say things like: 'You just left us mummy. We didn't want to go there.' This used to wrack me with guilt. No it only semi-wracks me. As I told him this morning, sometimes we all have to do things we don't want to do. And going to nursery so mummy can work is one of them (they only go two days a week, it's not like I'm abandoning them completely). And, thinking quietly to myself, next week going to be big school will be another. And this weekend, daddy looking after both of you while I get some retail therapy will be something he doesn't particularly relish, but there you go.
So another bad mother day to put up on my sticker chart. Sigh