Today was a typical day in the life. I had but one goal for the day: get to the garden centre to buy some plants for Anna to pot and watch grow. I was going to do this while Caleb spent an hour checking out his new nursery. Simple enough, the casual reader thinks. Let's just say that I am likely to fail at both today and through no lack of effort on my part.
The first cracks in my plan became immediately evident. I was meant to phone the day-home lady where Caleb was going. However, I didn't have the number. Ange did, but was at work. I phoned her mobile. Nothing. Her office. Nothing. I emailed. Nothing. I tried to find her filing on the day home. A mess created--but I was no closer to this darned phone number. Anna, meanwhile, has decided that porridge is no longer what she wants for breakfast. Caleb has shredded his toast but has consumed very little. More toast goes in for Anna and Caleb gets some applesauce and more files where the number might potentially be are pulled out. Oma phones and is surprised about this whole "day home" thing creeping up on us and starting this week. As I start the explanation, the toast pops, marmite (yuck) is applied and sticky toast is given to Anna. Caleb has finished the applesauce and wants something else--what that is remains unclear, but he is increasingly agitated that I'm not getting it for him. Phone applied to one ear, Anna needs something to keep her hair back. A top-to-bottom house search ensues for a hair band while Caleb is temporarily placated with a tupperware container. No hair band turns up, but (on the phone) Oma has arrived at a level of peace that we're doing the right thing. Caleb, however, is not at any level of peace. I determine that this is likely due to the relative humidity in his nappy. I pick him up to take him to the potty and no sooner do I have the offending nappy off and him on the potty (don't wonder if it's worth trying this nappy-free thing, there's a light at the end of this tunnel that shines very, very brightly) than Anna needs her hands and face washed. She comes up to the bathroom. Caleb is balanced on one knee, Anna's hands are washed and Caleb is soon into a new nappy. Dad's trousers are suspiciously damp, but certainly not wet and the situation is simply ignored. Caleb fights getting his clothes on while Anna starts lobbying for the Ariel movie. I curse Disney (possibly audibly) and start the explanation of one shouldn't get up and start watching TV at once. Caleb is after the cat. Cat is rescued. Further negotiation for the TV heats up with Anna. Caleb is eating small bits from Anna's dollhouse. Small bit are rescued from his mouth. Further negotiation for the TV continues. Caleb is at the top of the stairs. Caleb is rescued from himself but is already poised to go after the cat again who has stupidly walked back into the picture. Anna wins the TV argument though time limitations are (supposedly) established. Caleb is taken for his morning nap because I still haven't worked out a way to contact the day-home lady.
It's 9am.
The house has now been turned upside down because of breakfast, a lost phone number and the shocking disappearance of all hair-manipulation accessories.
At 9:40, Ange phones with the number for the day-home lady. However, the day-home lady doesn't answer and I'm at a loss. I figure that I will just head over and ring the bell. They are likely to be out, but I can chill with the kids at the park or a coffee shop. I ring the bell at 10. They're not there. We go for coffee. I keep ringing back. There's nothing and so we head to the park. We do a lot of playing and by noon, we're all cold, tired and hungry. I pull the plug on the day-home trial.
We're back at home and I navigate the breakfast mess to make lunch. Somehow, Anna has successfully convinced me that boiled potatoes are on the menu. I scramble to get them boiled while feeding Caleb. Caleb isn't entirely pleased with my selection for him and the pile of food under his chair is now reaching alarming levels. Somehow, Anna's lunch comes together. We spend nearly 5 minutes very deliberately cutting the chives for her potatoes. Caleb is back on the tupperware entertainment plan. Anna is two bites into her lunch and I'm finally getting some real food shoveled into Caleb when Anna suddenly announces the very urgent need for the potty. I implore her to go it alone if I help her with her tights. She gets down from the table and runs away. Oh God! Caleb has the yogurt pot. How the hell did he reach that? I quickly calculate the bigger mess: pee or yogurt. Trusting in Anna's bladder, I snatch the yogurt with minimal collateral mess. Anna is summoned back. Tights are removed and she goes up to the potty while, as if on queue, Caleb makes the pooh face.
If the above has demonstrated anything, it's that I'm not overly adept at balancing the needs of a 11 month and 3 year old at the same time. I simply can't put two of them on a potty at once. Caleb is allowed to relieve himself in his nappy, much to my own disappointment (little did I know just how disappointed I would be). Anna has managed to become distracted between finishing on the potty and coming back to the table and is now wandering around looking for her barbies with nothing on, apart from her shirt. Poor timing on my part results in me chasing her with Caleb in one hand (as he still works on getting more pooh out). She was eventually cajoled back to her seat to finish lunch, only after putting Caleb down to wash Anna's hands. Caleb had found the cat, who had sensibly headed for high ground. We head upstairs to get Caleb on the potty. I manage to remove the offending nappy and get him into the bathroom to see if we can finish what he's started. Anna's pretty darn good at the potty, but maybe not yet perfect on her own. Clean-up is required before Caleb can use that same seat. Clean up commences with Caleb in one hand (because bum is still a mess and he can't be permitted to roam the house). Bum is cleaned and we get him sitting on the potty. I may have sighed lightly at this point, but any relief was short-lived: the phone rings.
In hindsight, I can see that I should have left the phone. But I feel the overwhelming urge to answer it, in case it is the day-home lady. The catch, clearly, is that Caleb is not in a nappy. He's almost certainly finished poohing but has definitely not yet peed. I know it's coming but I need to get that phone. I run downstairs with Caleb under my arm and answer the phone. He sits quietly on my lap for about 30 seconds while the day-home lady and I talk about how I got the communication wrong... and then... my leg quickly warms. I know what's going on. I don't even miss a beat in my conversation with day-home lady. I simply squeeze my legs together tightly to try and make sure no pee gets on the floor. That's one more thing to clean and I'm not up for it. Anna declares that she's finished lunch and instantly escalates her feelings about getting down from the table to the "extremely dramatic". The cat, meanwhile, seems to have summed up the situation and knows I'm not letting Caleb go, so parks herself just out of his reach. Caleb goes mental trying to reach her. The cat taunts us both like only a cat can.
And that's the moment.
As I sit there covered in someone else's pee, struggling with one exhausted arm to keep a half-naked toddler from mauling the cat that taunts him, taking it on the chin from the day-home lady about how I screwed up, all to a back-ground music of a toddler in full tantrum over absolutely nothing, I wonder to myself: "am I really cut out for this?"
Of course, when you actually manage to pull it together, it is gold. And a couple of photos to prove it:
