Bad tempers at dawn

Last night I went to bed determined to have a more positive day with my children today. Yesterday son 1 was rude, aggressive, back chatty and basically obnoxious. Son 2 was whingey, whiney and full to the brim of complaints. I had a long hard chat with myself last night and vowed to start today with a fresh new nag free start.

Ha ha bloody ha.

That goal flew out of the window at roughly 1am in the morning when son 2 lay crying for me in his bed. So I went to him, he wouldn't settle down so I wearily lugged him back to my bed given husband is out of town. Immediately son 1 followed suit. So I had both in bed with me. We have an American super king yet somehow there is never enough room. I've learnt from bitter experience NEVER to put myself in between them as I become a battering ram for pointy elbows and get squeezed between two python-like children until I morph into elasti-girl of the narrowest proportions.

So I slept on one side. That left the two of them able to beat the bejesus out of each other all night. Which they did. They really cranked up the fighting round about 5am, instigated by son 2 in his bid for bed domination. I eventually hauled him unceremoniously out of the bed, planted him on the floor and left him there to wail.

It wasn't a great start to the day frankly.

And it's been fairly vile ever since. I asked if either of them would like porridge for breakfast. Son 2 said an emphatic yes. Son 1 did his usual and refused to answer. So I said he had one last chance to answer before I made it. He yelled: 'NO I DON'T WANT STUPID PORRIDGE!' So we had a few words about his tone and I made porridge for two of us. The minute I put the porridge on the table son 1 fell into his Oscar award-winning performance of how he had actually said yes he wants porridge and that I am stupid and MUST GO MAKE MORE PORRIDGE NOW! At which point he and the bottom step got to know each other a little better.

He has still not stopped moaning about his lack of porridge. While son 2 is studiously avoiding eating his saying it has to cool down (you'd find ice blocks warmer at this point). I've said that his brother can have it if he doesn't eat it. But of course son 2 has stuck his fingers in the porridge trying to scoop the sugar off the top, which means it's been contaminated and his older brother won't touch it now either. This might seem like no biggie, but we had a fairly long and forthright chat yesterday about wasting food, which apparently seems to have fallen on deaf ears.

This is just one incident. One. There've also been similar incidents about milk cup colours, TV channels, what to put on toast, what to take for show and tell, whether the TV should go off, what should go in lunchboxes etc.

My will to live has gone. My good intentions a vague and distant memory. I have 5 odd hours to gather my strength and positive thoughts and start again - although this is foolish as after school moods are even worse than early morning ones.

I should point out that I've typed this sitting on the loo with my laptop perched precariously, as the children don't know I'm here. Well they didn't but son 1 just came in demanding I get off as he needs to wee. I pointed out that we have two other toilets in the house but apparently only this one will do. Must go.