This evening I drove the children home from Welshpool screaming simultaneously for forty minutes. Them screaming, not me. Although I was inside.
Children are such a joy, aren't they?
They were tired and hungry rather than any more serious issues, but isn't it amazing how much noise a tired and hungry baby can produce? Talking to them didn't have any effect at all, so in the end I turned on the radio and started singing, which seemed to stun them in to silence. But when I stopped and started talking to them again, the yelling restarted. Instead of just buying milk at the Spar, I bought a bottle of wine and three giant bars of chocolate; I managed to get them in to bed and have merciful silence descend before I cracked the merlot, but only just.
I have had a lovely day, though, all alone. I went back to bed after B left with the children at 7am and didn't wake up until gone mid-day. I woke up in a lovely, snoozy, warm, slow way, instead of jettisoning myself upright in to the cold and the dark to the sound of baby-screaming. As I lay there, I realised that the scratching noise I could hear was the cat using the carpet in the spare room as a toilet in a dirty protest at me not leaving the kitchen window open; so that idyll didn't last long.
Tomorrow; me, two babies and a whole day to fill without going mad. I may do some putting things in to folders. Leo likes putting things in to things and I reckon with a bit of encouragement I can get him to be fully conversant with my filing system by the age of two. And I might try to clean out the chickens if there is simultaneous sleeping. I am very grumpy about the chickens - the *bloody* horse is back, having now completely flattened the fence in a number of places. Our landlady is not very keen (or, I suspect, financially equipped) to repair it. And when I spoke to Mr Horse to ask him to come and reclaim his animals, he was very rude to me. So they don't give a damn about them, either.
I've spoken to the RSPCA who can't do anything unless there is 'clear evidence of neglect'. Which chasing my chickens and putting them off lay isn't. That's the bit I'm grumpy about. It took me a while to get there, sorry.
I go, to fill the coal bucket with wet coal and find some kindling to dry out in case I need to relight the stove tomorrow morning. Oh, and to wash baby-bottles.