Perfect storm
There are some moments of the day, when you have small children, which are more stressful than others. The bedtime hour(s) is one of them. Combine that with a previous night of interrupted sleep [one baby waking every two hours and one five year old coming in at 3am and taking up residence at the foot of the bed, just where my legs should go and stealing the entire duvet, leaving my back exposed to the cold night air], a baby who is desperate for sleep, bathtime [with big girl daughter deciding she wanted her bath in the baby bath and asking me to help her wash her hair there - dunking to rinse is virtually impossible when you can barely squeeze all your limbs in the bath] and having to assemble an Ikea desk chair, and you have a perfect storm of stress. Why is there always something that doesn't quite line up when you are assembling Ikea furniture?
Anyway, there came a point, of course, when I erupted like Vesuvius and, as usual, I spent the rest of the evening feeling guilty and atoning for my sins. I am still atoning today, having committed myself to doing a "project" about fairies with big girl daughter, having a makeover with bonkers daughter and playing numerous games of chess with rebel daughter. Even now, as I sit here with my face covered in rouge, hoping no-one knocks on the front door, I am staring at the bonkers one bedecked in white lipstick, full face paint and a chicken costume [don't ask]. I can foresee a long day ahead. Roll on the return to school.
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