The school has closed for a snow day today. The fact that there is less snow today than there has been for the past three days is of no importance. There’s not enough snow to do anything with but it’s bloody freezing and very icy which makes it mostly an Indoors Day. I dislike Indoors Days. Still, we’ve muddled through…
7.15am – The Ocado man arrives early. I am still in the shower. Mr H answers the door.
7.30am – I realise Mr H has decided to be helpful and unpack the shopping. This is kind, but means I don’t know what was definitely delivered, or where he has put it. I will spend all day with a low-level sense of unease. Rummaging begins.
7.31am – I realise there is no milk. Much swearing
7.32am – I find the milk in the beer fridge. More swearing.
7.35am – I find an inexplicable ready meal of gluten-free noodles and vegetables in the freezer. There is no evidence of it on my receipt. My home is almost violently pro-gluten. I suspect Ocado of delivering some sort of veiled insult.
7.40am – The Little One goes for a poo. Sings Hickory Dickory Dock loudly.
8.40am – The Boys demand chocolate. Get toast.
9am – The Big One gets out the Hama beads. Chooses a star pattern. I decide to be Good Mummy and join in.
9.15am – There are Hama beads all over the floor. The Little One is trying to ruin The Big One’s efforts. I am too focused on writing the word “snow” in Hama beads to deal with it.
9.20am – Big One gets dressed in shorts and a t-shirt. It is -3 degrees. Sulks when told he has to wear trousers. Replaces shorts with jeans with holes in knees. Fuck it.
10am – Big One goes for a poo. Calls to Little One to bring his apple. Little One heads to toilet with the bowl of apple. We are now operating mid-shit table service.
10.15am – We decide to brave the weather for emergency supplies (wine and Mini Eggs). It takes 7 minutes to get mittens on the Little One. I consider letting him get frostbite.
10.30am – In Asda, I bellow at The Boys for touching fucking everything. A group of teenage girls is wandering aimlessly around the shop wearing pyjamas. I judge them.
10.45am – On the way home, the Big One complains he’s got cold knees because of the holes in his jeans. I fight the urge to tell him he’s a dick
10.46am – Little One takes off gloves
10.47am – Little One cries because he doesn’t have gloves on.
10.48am – I declare we will not be going out again today. Not even to the Drinking Shop.
11am – We get home. Big One has Pokémon cards. Little One has a tiny Hatchimal. They are divvied out while I make tea.
11.15am – Little One has a massive strop over something to do with the Hatchimal. We end up twatting it with a spoon to open it. Small blue monkey is revealed. I establish a Hatchimal is just a shit Kinder Egg – more stress, no chocolate.
12.22pm – Little One announces he needs a wee. We head to the loo. Little One announces he’s already started. I strip piss-dribbled clothes from him
12.23pm – The strains of “Pikachu, I Choose You” drift from the lounge as I wrestle moist socks from his feet. My eyes stray towards the beer fridge (now milk-free).
12.25pm – I bring clean pants to find the Little One dancing wildly to the Pokémon theme with his arse out.
1pm – Little One goes for a nap. Big One and I have lunch and ponder plans. Alexa adds to the creative environment with Pokémon-based tunes. We decide we should do something wholesome and creative.
1.05pm – A plan! We will turn the conservatory into a Drinking Shop! I am unsure whether to be proud or concerned at the enthusiasm with which this idea is greeted by the Big One. We settle on “The Pikachu and Pineapple” as a name.
1.10pm – We spend an excellent hour creating a pub. A sign is made. We fashion beer pumps from kitchen roll tubes. We make good use of Mr H’s hanging board of Cheesy Moments. I train the Big One to say “Good evening Sir, what can I get you? The draught is off, but we have a wide range of bottled beers”.
2pm – The pub is done. We are proud. Film time. Little One still sleeping. I muse how lovely it would be to only own one child. Or none…
3pm – Little One surfaces. Is in belting mood. Unsettling.
3.30pm – We make chocolate cornflake cakes. I mentally add another glass of wine to my evening’s tally for being Good Mummy twice in a day. I scoff 7 Mini Eggs without The Boys seeing. I am very clever.
3.31pm – I hand out Mini Eggs to the eagle-eyed little bastards.
4pm – I decide that enough wholesomeness has taken place and it’s TV time, I revert to my usual position of hiding in the kitchen with tea and Coronation Street.
5pm – Belting mood is over. Demands for Hickory Dickory Dock on the iPad begin. Alexa is instructed to play the Poo Song.
5.01pm – I wonder what time the Pikachu and Pineapple opens…
.
6.30pm – Mr H returns and the Drinking Shop opens. The Big One leaps into action, announcing to Mr H “Good evening Sir! What drink do you want? The giraffe is off, but we have bottles…”
Good enough, young sir, good enough.
Sons Over the Yardarm 