Incapacitated

So It's that time again, half term, please do send copious amounts of Valium. Though I must confess the week so far has gone remarkably fast.

My body is about to have me convicted of GBH, so that whenever there is a knock at the door I am in a dire quandary of fight or flight due to the possibility of it being the police about to arrest me for aforementioned gbh (and murder for yes It was indeed I, in the bathroom with my bare hands that cruelly in cold blood ended the life of a small flying thing. Multiple murder if you factor in me squealing like a sissy at a daddy long legs in the bathroom whilst brutally lobbing packs of toddler arse wipes at it) versus the possibility of it being the very scarlet pimpernel himself aka The Postman with my new bollock stamping boots.

Three days ago whilst wrestling clothes out of my drawers I twatted my right foot, hard, on said drawers so hard that a bruise instantly appeared as did a rather enchanting stream of the most unwholesome language from my mouth (sorry mum). The very next day no sooner had I left the house when my ankle gave way, again, resulting in said ankle being bloody agony and the opposite knee being skinned. Ouch. The Toddler was unharmed and was mostly disgruntled that his packet of crisps I was supposed to be opening had burst. So there I am, sat on my arse on the path, The Toddler strapped to my back and the coins and house key from my purse spilled all around me as I mutter a few choice obscenities between the rather pitiful ouchies and did either of the men in shirt and ties exiting a nearby car stop to help? Did they heck as like.

So, me being me rather then descend the four or so steps back to my front door decided to continue the one mile trip with twenty seven pounds of toddler strapped to my back to meet The Husband and Thing Two.

Then to cap it off an hour ago I only went and stubbed my flaming big toe on the door.

All on the same foot I might add.

Combine my jiggered ankle with The Husbands sciatica and I think it rather goes without saying that poor Thing One and Thing Two still haven't had their birthday trampoline given to them nor have they experienced their birthday bowling trip yet. Their birthdays were in August and September. Oops.

However we did manage to palm the little critters off to The Mothership for a night each which gave us a momentary break in the constant squabbles, they even returned with new clothes, bonus!

Currently they're expressing their sibling devotion to each other through the forbidden medium of wrestling as I sit downstairs pinned to the sofa by a feeding Toddler pretending I don't hear the ominous thuds from upstairs.

Oh arse. The Toddler has done a runner up the stairs and is filling his pockets with cars he's half inched from Thing One's room and I haven't even cooked tea yet. Yes, I know, it's 7pm.

I need gin. Preferably intravenously.