Posts tagged disaster

Getting Lost at Home

Yesterday was the freakiest day ever.  We had planned on going Christmas shopping early with the kids as well as bringing them to see Santy but Mr. Claire changed his mind because the Little Man didn’t have his haircut.  Not that it would make much difference even when the child’s hair is cut it still manages to look moppy.  So at the last minute, he asked his family to babysit while we went out shopping for the kid’s toys and clothes for Christmas.  They agreed (they don’t see the kids often) so we set out on the long drive there.  They live in the next county and it usually takes about an hour and a half or two hours at most to get there.

So, we started driving, I kept saying that I had a baaaad feeling about driving that day.   The car started its new trick of cutting out every time he braked and he soon realised that the traffic was…not good.  So he does what every man I know does.  Finds a different way to go.  Why is that most men can’t sit still in a bit of traffic, they have to keep moving?  No matter how long it takes them, they won’t just sit there and wait for a couple of minutes, they have to try every single alternative option.  As long as they’re moving, they’re happy.  Even if the moving consists of reversing and turning around only to end up in the place with began!  It’s very annoying because without fail, it takes longer than it would have if we had just waited.

So after about 20minutes of ducking and diving around traffic jams, Mr. Claire decides to go a brand new way.  And gets lost.  Can I just say that it is hard to get lost between Dublin and Kildare.  I hate asking for directions but I was willing to stop by some coppers and ask them the way.  “No,” he growled back at me.  Sorrrrreeeeeee!

Eventually (after quite a few false starts) things begin to look familiar to him and we find ourselves on  the right route to Kildare.  Then the heavens decide to open.  The rain lashed down on us.  I have never been scared in a car with Mr. Claire before but I have never experienced anything like yesterday!  The cars in front were unleashing waves of puddles that were lashing against the windscreen.  You should have seen his little face concentrating.   Bless!  Mucky water continuously spraying against the windscreen does not equal safety.  And myself and the Little Man weren’t improving matters by singing, “We better run, run, run, the storm is on it’s way,” over and over and over again.  Mr. Claire retaliated by refusing to play any cd other than Garth Brooks for the whole day.  I learned my lesson…

So at about 5pm we finally got to his mother’s house.  He made us walk through mucky grass to get to her front door.  Toerag.

We dropped the kids off, as usual, the Little Man was ecstatic at getting away from me while the Princess screamed her head off and had to be forcibly removed from my person.  Free at last, Mr. Claire and I frolicked to the car jumping for joy.  We went to Newbridge and bought the most amazing clothes for the Princess.  She’s so freaking cute in them.  Not the point!  A right dozebag pulled out in the middle of the road right in front of ongoing traffic.  I thought Mr. Claire was going to get out and be all bionic man and chase the car down the road in a rage.  He was really pissed because we missed crashing into the back of that eejit’s car by inches.  A chorus of beeping made that car shoot down the road away from everyone.  We went to Naas and bought toys in Smyths.  It was a bit crap.  I’m very disappointed.  I can’t get the stupid boys version of the Little Tykes camera I planned to get him.  Everywhere only stocks poxy pink ones.  Do they think boys don’t like taking photos?  Toerags.

The dinner Mr. Claire had promised me that morning ended up being in a chipper but it was lovely so I’m not going to complain.  Anyway, we set off from Naas to Kildare Town.  From where Mr. Claire used to work to where Mr. Claire used to live.  And he managed to get lost.   Again.

I don’t fecking know how the hell he managed to get lost between Naas and Kildare Town.  I don’t know how many miles apart they are but they are close and it’s like one straight road through!  Even I know my way and I am shit at directions!!  We ended up on this long arse road that went on FOREVER.  In the wrong direction.  I started getting the feeling that we would never see our children again.  He had this horrible look on his face that plainly said, “please don’t start bitching at me right now, please!”

We eventually get ourselves off that road and discover we are miles in the wrong direction but at least we can find our way back.  So we drive through all of these poxy, bendy, twisty lanes with no light whatsoever and what does the fecking car do?  Keep cutting out, leaving us for a couple of seconds each time in the pitch black!  It was scary shit.  Mr. Claire is a great driver and managed to avoid crashing but it was a close call a good few times yesterday!  If I had been in the car with anyone else, I would have gotten out and walked.  I have never been scared in the car with Mr. Claire before but disaster was chasing us yesterday!

 We got back to the kids in one piece.  His family wouldn’t even believe me that he had gotten lost in Naas.  It’s seriously unbelieveable…Then when we had arrived home, his brother rang to see if we were okay because a truck had overturned on the road we had just driven down.  All in all, a creepy day!  All that to get some bloody Christmas shopping done!  We got home at around 11pm, exhausted.   But at least we’ve started getting things in for Christmas.  We got our boxes of biscuits and tins of chocolates as well as our boxes of crisps.  It wouldn’t be Christmas without those! 


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Clean Up, Clean Up, Everybody, Everywhere…

Hmph, couldn’t post this morning because Mr. Claire needed the net to download an update for the Xbox.  Yes, I come second to the Xbox 🙂  Now back to today’s announcement… 

Mornings can go a couple of different ways in my house.  The Little Man or The Princess can wake me up.  The Little man does this by jumping on my head or stomach until I need to die or pee.  The Princess does this by screaming her head off as if she is stuck in between the bars of her cot and in excruciating pain.  Sometimes they don’t want to wake me up for various reasons.  The Little Man could be on a rampage and passing biscuits on to his baby sister to keep her quiet about the whole thing.  It’s a team effort. 

On days like this, I get woken up in one of two ways.  One could be the sound of Mr. Claire’s horrified voice shouting saying, “For the love of God, LIAM!!” followed by the sounds of Liam running as fast as he can into the bedroom before jumping into my bed and putting his cold hands and feet all over me in an effort to hide.  This scenario can be built up to by the sound of Mr. Claire’s disgusted voice shouting saying, “Oh, Jesus what’s all over her face?  Isobel!  NO!”  Cue frenzied double-checking that it is in fact chocolate and NOT poo all over her face.  The relief doesn’t last long for poor Mr. Claire, I’m afraid because at some stage he has to look at what damage has been done while we were asleep. 

Alternatively, my beautiful sleep is disturbed by a strange noise.  It could be an odd tap tapping noise, the sound of tearing, a rather loud squeaking or a whole array of other noises.  The Oh, shit, no, sensation starts to kick in relatively quickly.  Half asleep, I KNOW that my son is no longer asleep, I KNOW that I don’t want to look at what he is doing but I KNOW that I have to stop it right now before it gets worse. There are many sights that could await me once I grudgingly pass by Mr. Claire’s pretend snoring body with a deadener to the arm and the sight of my daughter’s four shining white teeth amongst a mouthful of brown drool.  I enter the crime scene kitchen. 

Flour/sugar/pasta/rice/coffee/ripped up tea bags/baby formula could be strewn across the floor in cleverly constructed mounds.  Thomas the Tank Engine’s friends will all be stuck in one of these mounds and poor Thomas will be the scruffy hero attempting a rescue.  Usually a couple of these mounds are mixed with broken eggs and yoke while others are overflowing in about 2litres of milk.  This is so we can’t clean it up as quick.  It is really hard to clean up raw eggs mixed with dried up gunk (or else we’re just not doing it right). Parts of the floor will be pulled up, most of the battery powered toys will have the backs unscrewed and their batteries replaced.  He is quite good with a screwdriver.  Something somewhere will be dented by a hammer of some sort.  Kitchen towel, toilet roll and Kleenex will be floating in the air.  I sort of imagining him running free around the room with a look of glee across his face and pieces of paper in his hands twirling elegantly in the air.  It is art. 

Every single toy will be out of the toy box and covering the doorway for a couple of feet in every direction so that no matter what you do, you have to stand on a toy to clean up.  Sometimes, the tap will be left running and a mini flood will occur – this is probably a river to wash the filthy trains in after they have been rescued.  Things are better since he’s been potty trained though,  he used to take his nappies off too but I won’t finish that story. 

Of course, all this hard work and effort makes a growing boy hungry.  So he will have to feed himself at some stage.  Think of chunks of butter everywhere but the bread.  Jam sliding off the table.  Packets of cheese and ham overturned on the floor.  Twenty pieces of bread on a plate, each with one bite taken out of them.  That’s before he even pours himself a drink.  Anything that was placed so high up that even I can’t reach it, is somehow, magically, on the ground. 

Today wasn’t too bad, maybe he’s taking pity on us at last.  He managed to get behind a huge television stand/cabinet thingy and take out a Transformer we had been saving him for Christmas.  Firstly, I do not know how he found the thing, secondly, I do not know how he managed to get behind the cabinet, and thirdly I do nott know how he managed to get the toy open because I struggle with it.  But he managed all three.  He also managed to get his hands on three board games.  I hate when he does that because you can never find all of the pieces again.  Never.  So, he decided it would be fun to take all of the cards out and throw them up in the air, watch them all fall to the ground and then go make brown sauce sandwiches.   

Brown sauce sandwiches.  What a connoisseur…I can’t go into my kitchen for longer than five minutes today because the smell of brown sauce is sickening me.  I hate brown sauce; it’s a Mr. Claire thing.  Obviously, it’s a little man thing too considering he’s making sandwiches out of the stuff.  Bleurgh!  It tends to be like a treasure hunt in the mornings, trying to figure out exactly what has gone on before I woke up. 

I wonder how he manages to wake up first every single morning no matter what time I get up at.  It’s a talent.  If I died and nobody realized for a couple of weeks, my son would be well able to look after himself and his little sister.  He sometimes makes toast, I’ve caught him trying to make bottles for her before, there is nothing he won’t try.  He even cleans up sometimes 🙂 

Today, he didn’t want to clean up.  Mr. Claire told him to clean up everything and then he was going to go straight to bed.  Little man knows it’s an empty threat and fluthers around the place regardless.  Mr. Claire joined in on the cleaning while I judged the damage on the Princess.  I’m thinking she had a brown sauce sandwich too.  I told my son to either clean up his trains or else throw them in the bin.  He tries to throw them into the bin…Plan b, Mammy, what’s plan b?  I did the countdown.  I say, five, four, three, two…I don’t quite know what happens at one, we’ve yet to get that far.  I have no idea why it works because even I don’t know what happens at one but it does the job so I’m not complaining.  I’m aware that my parenting skills leave a lot to be desired but whatever.  Both kids are happy and healthy…maybe it’s down to the brown sauce sandwiches?

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