The formal application for a day of rest is dismissed.
Instead I face an uphill battle I’ve named, “GETTING THROUGH THE DAY.”
I attempt to fight this battle from a horizontal position on the couch.
I am pummelled and jumped on, first by the dogs, followed quickly by the children.
I survey the land and to my immense disappointment it is covered in debris.
Crumbs, dishes, clothes, pencils, toys.
The sink is full, taunting me with glimpses of the stainless steel below.
The washing waits impatiently and imposingly to be put away.
The kids run around with food.
They are trying to break me.
I fight the urge to stand up and sweep the counters of clutter.
I close my eyes and my lid is prised open by my torturous baby, who hasn’t deployed any of his sleep deprivation methods in a while.
My big boy demands FOOD and is always THIRSTY.
My refuge on the couch becomes a distant memory.
I stumble around putting out fires and the minutes tick on.
I deploy a game of hide and seek and fall in a heap behind the pile of beanbags in the playroom.
They find me.
They always find me.
Below is a picture of the Major General shouting orders at the TV to get louder and more annoying, simultaneously imparting his new strategy which I’ve creatively named, “Take the nappy off and Mama HAS to follow me around.”
*Disclaimer – I could have won the war by calling in the reinforcements but I wasn’t quite that bad…..