My House is Mayhem

Ok, so I'm sitting here and I have half cleaned up after the dinner, and yes, I'm the only one ate it... Chicken Korma and it was damn tasty. My little girl is obviously stuck under my elbow, still listening to the "Wheels on the Bus", as the two boys bellow at each other about horses, and telling each other 'that's what they get' each time one hurts the other. I believe they have up-ended the seat cushions of the couch and are using them as horses-bursting my upholstery in the process. I would say, 'oh well, anything for a quiet life', but sheesh it's far from quiet. 

Is is just me or are kids crazy??? Like funny crazy? Sometimes really irritating crazy, but mostly funny. Yesterday for instance, I was helping our eldest with homework and strategically gave the other two some harmless toast and butter to distract them while I was otherwise occupied. Baby girl was done after a few nibbles, of course, and came over to see what worldly advice I could give her as to what she was to do with the plate of leftovers. "Just pop it in the bin" I advised her, completely forgetting she was two, and so both the scraps and the plate went into the bin, well, most of the scraps, one piece inevitably landed on the floor, she stepped on it and then proceeded to eat it deciding it was worthy of consumption again. 

My middle man has just dragged his older brother across the timber floors telling him he's in jail. I'm trying very hard to type and ignore them.

The crazy doesn't really end does it? And I think it's very advisable to live by the rule "if you don't laugh you'll cry". I was getting breakfast this morning and there was a game of tag going on in the kitchen, under my feet, I had just asked them to vacate my "work space" when I tripped over something or someone and a bowl of cocoa pops went flying, of course I felt like crying momentarily but decided to be thankful I hadn't added the milk, and just basically talked myself back to some level of social sanity as I swept the offending cocoa pops up and screamed at the kids to not step on them in the meantime. "Right, start again" I told myself,  because it really is quite a mountainous task to pour another bowl and all that. 2 minutes later I look over to see one of them sweeping and muttering to themselves and finishing with a "Right, start again". So, they obviously do listen to some of what I say.. 

It's like a ritual chez moi, I repeat myself all the time. ALL the frickin' time. To the point when we pull up outside our house in the car, the boys cut me off "Yes, yes, yes we know the drill mum"!! Yes, well knowing and doing are two separate things entirely, so in a confused heap of bags, coats and expletives, we still stumble in and I still have to repeat, step by step, my daily instructions and commands... Take your bag out of the doorway, put your bag at the door, move your shoes, pick up your jackets, close the door, stop arguing with each other, stop shouting, get dressed, take them off, put them on, slow down, hurry up, FLUSH THE TOILET AND WASH YOUR HANDS.... for the love of GOD will you please FLUSH THE TOILET AND WASH YOUR HANDS!!!???????? But... "how did you know I went to the toilet mum?".