“No, no. Leave’ em. It’s as easy to look after three as it is to look after one, easier in fact.”
That was me yesterday afternoon in the middle of Len’s pre birthday Mad Hatter’s tea party. It would appear that I’ve discovered in myself a talent for turning out feather light and quite tasty scones ( if I do say so myself) and requests have been coming in from all over the place to make more. Even my nephew sent me a request via Facebook for some.
Len’s pre birthday bash was exactly the opportunity to churn out a few batches and feed many people for not much effort.
The plan was that Munki would stay overnight, the clingons heard about the plan and decided they wanted to stay as well; hence my opening comment.
All was well till getting near bedtime. as normal, Munki started to play up. No worries, she’ll settle down in a few minutes. WRONG!
Now I’m not a big fan of leaving babies screaming alone in a bedroom until they are so exhausted they fall asleep distraught and sobbing so after ten minutes I brought her down stairs. After half an hour or so it was clear she was struggling to keep her eyes open.
By this time it was past Dangerous D’s bedtime so she and Munki were both dispatched to bed. What a shame that that was exactly when the thunderstorm started. The baby screamed, the clingon cried. The baby, after a few words with Boofuls nodded off, the clingon came back down stairs to calm down.
After another half hour or so, both clingons were dispatched to bed, followed soon after by me and Boofuls who were both wiped out by this time.
And that was the start of a very, very long night.
Oh how I wish I slept like Boofuls, happily pushing out zzzzz’s and oblivious to everything while I cleaned vomit, attended to fractious babies, listened to cat’s howling- what the hell was up with her I have no idea, held hair back, cleaned more vomit, cuddled small children, got glasses of water, cleaned vomit off the bathroom carpet, carried out toilet trips for fractious babies and eventually gave up the ghost and came downstairs with Dangerous D who has been vomiting every twenty minutes since 3.00a.m.
The poor child looks like Marley’s ghost. As I write she’s lying on the settee letting out the occasional sigh and trying to get some sleep while keeping tight hold of the sick bowl. It’s been more than twenty minutes since she last used it though so I’m hoping she’s on the mend.
Things can only get better.