Unfinished actions

A few days ago I blogged about the unfinished thoughts that regularly play bumper cars in my mind. Yesterday was diffferent. Yesterday was all about unfinished actions. It was day two of chicken pox watch, which meant trying to fit in a full day's work while also looking after a bored and somewhat fractious child.

It is possible to do this but one of two things will happen: you'll either not finish any of your work or your house will be destroyed. I opted for the latter. My son was very good at entertaining himself but the family room bore the brunt of his amusement. It looked like an explosion in a lego factory mixed with a healthy sprinkling of cheerios, toast crusts and babybel wrappers. The cushions from the sofas became a teetering climbing frame and every gogo and pencil crayon we own filled in the free spaces of carpet.

We then went to get his older brother from school. He insisted on getting the craft box out the minute we got home. I asked him to please not make a mess (I'd have had a more effective conversation with the wall). I was then tasked with getting them snacks, making them cups of tea, trying to unpack the dishwasher and tidying up the anarchy. Meanwhile son 2 was bored and wanted mummy to help him build the hotwheels track - only one billion different parts to try and connect and whatever I did was 'wrong mummmmmaaaay!'

As I was trying to build the hotwheels thing, I turned around, tripped over a piece of plastic crap and knocked my tea all over the rug. While attempting to clear this up, I had two boys yelling that I needed to help them in their respective activities. Son 1 marched over from the craft table saying: 'I can't tidy up anymore'. Looking up I saw purple glitter everywhere. EVERYWHERE. So I dropped the tea wiping up in favour of halting the sprinkling of glitter that seemed to happen everytime son 1 moved.

Son 2 still whinged that he wanted the hotwheels thing built. So with neither tidying up task really completed, I tried to build the hotwheels track. I sort of finished doing this but then had son 1 nagging that he was starving and needed something to eat NOW. As I headed to the kitchen to make a snack for him, son 2 decided he was bored of hotwheels after all and broke up the track.

I seemed to bounce from demand to demand, crisis to crisis without ever really finishing anything. It all came to a head when I had food on the stove top sizzling, the telephone ringing (a new prospective client wanting to have a long and in-depth chat) and the boys trying to remove each others eyes with sharp pointy sticks. The level of noise, the nagging, fighting, whining - all while I felt absolutely shocking with a head cold - resulted in me having an actual tantrum. Seriously. Slammed the door and everything and yelled the word SHIT quite loudly (which resulted in much repeating of that later). Not my proudest parenting moment but sometimes that's just the way it is.

By the time husband came home I was beyond shattered. He tutted a bit about the mess. I tried not to kill him. I ended the evening with a whiskey.

However, there was one bright spot on the otherwise fairly rubbish day, I have managed to get my children hooked on Masterchef. I am bored out of my mind with Cbeebies given it seems to have been on 24/7 with a sick child at home. So I suggested they might want to watch a cooking competition. Anything that is a competition holds appeal. So I played a recorded episode of Masterchef for them. They were engrossed. In fact the highlight of my day was the expression on my husband's face when he returned from work to find all three of us glued to the cooking show. He bemusedly accepts me watching it, but having his sons sucked into the Masterchef vortex left him resigned to being outnumbered.

After a fitful night (thanks to small boys in my bed) we all got up at 5.30am and the first thing they asked for was the next episode of Masterchef. They are watching it as I type this although with many interruptions for more milk, and questions about why one contestant has been booted off and why they're cooking rabbit, I'm probably not very coherent. Their father will be 'working' from home today as I have to go into London and be a grown up with meetings and everything. He has no idea what's about to hit him. I've tried to warn him. I've tried to explain that his OCD tendancies will have to be put aside for a day. He must accept that he won't finish any work. But I don't think he really understands. He will soon.