Sometimes it is definitely advantageous to be a stay at home mummy.

However, this weekend has not been one of those times.

Stay at home mummies, for example, don’t get to go off on all expenses trips to nice hotels and have pleasant booze ups til the wee small hours of the morning, in the name of christmas. No, instead, stay at home mummies have to pace the bedroom floorboards through the course of the night, comforting a poor coughing baby, before being woken at 6am by an over excited toddler.

Stay at home mummies also don’t get to sod off to hotels during the week. Hence here I am again, a mere couple of days after the last time, on my own again, and facing yet another night of potential sleeplessness.

And to top it all off, I’ve got the most stinking cold and feel like death. I’m sure you’ve already twigged this, but I’m not quite feeling the festive spirit yet. I’ve got DB1 literally attached to me at all moments of the day, yanking on my trousers, shimmying up my back as though i was a pole in a monkey enclosure, leaning on me, dribbling on me, embracing me when I’m trying to extract boiling hot things from the oven…that sort of thing.
And I have DS2 trying to set his own world record of loud shrieking. He’s good, I’ll give him that. If there was an award for ‘most bellowing, deafening howl in existence’, he’d be a strong contender.

So, I’ve got the assault on my ears, the assault on my physical person, and given the utter crap on tv this Christmas, you can add to that an attack on the eyes as well. Bah humbug.

They are both crying. Sigh. Mainly because they momentarily didn’t have my full attention. I shall officially give up writing…

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