And the award goes to... opens envelope nervously...
Well, it ain't me. I had one of those days where you wonder just why on earth you ever wanted to be a parent. Should-have-stayed-in-bed type days.
Thing One this morning was just a walking hormone. Snappy, snotty and full of sass. After cajoling, threatening, warning and finally outright bullying she left the house to go to school without breakfast and without brushing her hair. She spent 30 minutes whining that "there's nothing to eat, I hate cereal, I don't want toast, it's too late to cook something, I don't want cold food, not a yoghurt again, you hate me, why did you ever have me". She spent 20 minutes brushing her teeth - well, 19 minutes faffing around and 30 seconds giving them a hint of mint. We finally literally ran out of time and had to leave. She pulled a bandanna over her unbrushed hair and whined all the way to school. (She just told me she took her hairbrush to school, so much for THAT "lesson" in dealing with natural consequences). I drove to work feeling completely inadequate, raging and imagining arguments that would have worked against Ms Hormone.
Work was understaffed, over-run and chaotic. I have no idea why I choose to work with miniature tyrants who have no idea what the words "slow" or "relax" mean. Suffice to say, the highlight of my day was unwrapping one three year-old's hands from another three year-old's neck.
Thing Two. Aarrgghh. Guilt city. She is her usual quiet and lovely self. So much so, I forgot to sign a permission slip for her, for school. Poor child always gets left out in the whirlwind of snotty pre-teen and rampaging toddler. Poor Thing Two, I'm really sorry, sweetheart.
As for The Babe. Hurrumph. Temperamental child. She was sweetness personified yesterday, so today she ran to the other extreme. Went to make dinner today and the mince was off. Binned it and did a very quick supermarket trip to feed the Raveners. She did her usual "trolleys are the work of the Devil, and an instrument of torture and should be banned under the Court of Human Rights" screaming deal. Ran as quick as possible around, snatching salad and deli pastries (would have spent less at McDonald's AND they have a drive-through, but noooo, burgers mid-week not healthy, d'oh). At the checkout, The Babe grabbed one of those chocolate egg things Kinder-egg? Kinder-surprise? Whatever they are called. She managed to rip the wrapper, forcing me to purchase the damned thing. I was severely tempted to throw it in the bin, but I took the next best option and shared it between Thing One and Thing Two (yes, before dinner, so there is another Strike). And then drove home listening to The Babe scream "Mine choclit, mine!" in indignation and fury.
Deep breath. In. Out. In. Out.
Thank you for listening to me rant, Dear Reader. Tomorrow I shall try to be a slightly better parent, assuming that the assorted menagerie behave!