I finally got F down and settled in his cot. He has had a yucky couple of days with a sore tummy, so it was so nice to see him smile as he drifted off to sleep.
I ran a hot bath with lots of bubbles. I slid in and started to relax. This was the first time I had actually stopped since 5am. Bliss. Next thing comes a blood curdling scream from the twins room. I quickly slide my head under the water. Alas, I can still hear it.
I drag myself out of the nice, deep, warm, bubbly water and into my dressing gown.
I walk into the twins room and survey the scene before me.
S has taken off a pooey nappy and it's on the floor. B has stood in it, and is standing on her pillow on the bed, hopping about on the clean foot screaming POO and shoving her dirty foot in the air.
I let out to clean them up, carrying B, and S runs ahead, bursts into F's nursery and yells GOOD MORNING in his face.
Its 10.05. All three children are awake. There is poo. Everywhere.
Is it any wonder I drink?
I clean up the twins and get them back into their beds, clean up the floor and give them some more milk. I go back in and settle F.
It's now 10.40. The twins are lying in their beds quietly chattering to each other. F is awake but settled in his cot.
My bath is stone cold.
I give up.
I'll try again in 2033 when they have all moved out.
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