time out for mummy
between all the memorable moments, let us not forget there are four seriously overactive children under the age of four in my life right now.
it has been a relentless morning.
i couldn’t sleep last night, for some reason the LIGHT was bothering me and the air was heavy and not moving around. and there was a mosquito buzzing around me and because i had got moisturiser in my eye my vision was blaaa and i never succeeded in properly killing him. i think i got one of his legs, or maybe that was one of my eyelashes. where was i.
yes, i awoke and sebastian was spinning around the place. higher than a kite and with an attention span smaller than the space between angelina jolie and brad pitt. the babies were tolerable in their own way, but sebastian kept winding them up, whizzing around them and getting them excited and then confused and then in tears. 
because i have been told several times by parents i trust that i am too severe (i have also been told this by people i don’t trust), i tried gentle talks, i tried removing from the situation, i tried distraction, joky reminders in my sponge bob voice (yes, sebastian hits north america and very quickly learns who sponge bob is), and nothing. so finally, at the end of my tether, i we resorted to tried and proven crack your whip voice combined with a time out. oh, and a threat that he couldn’t go with grandad blake to the hardware store (sebastian loves gdad blake!) unless i saw a marked improvement.
but why? he said, in a voice that wasn’t challenging, but at the time i was convinced was. it wasn’t whinging either, more curious. and dang it, i have to respect a curious mind.
i thought….why indeed? i should be glad to get rid of this blonde rodent for a few hours, even 30 minutes would be divine…
but i came up with, "well sebastian, you aren’t obeying mummy, and if you go outside with grandad, i need to be sure that you will obey grandad, because if you don’t, then you could get hurt."
this seemed a plausible train of thought for the little man, and he responded, "i listen and be a good boy." i gave him a high five, and then ran upstairs and screamed at my poor frugal father who was hiding away (wise man) playing bridge on his computer upstairs to "please go to the hardware store."
the babies ate a nice lunch (shepards pie, yogurt, currants, grapes) and just as they were finishing the hardware men returned. sebastian had been an angel, apparently. great.
so everyone went upstairs for naptime, one two three babies in their pack and plays, and sebastian sleeping in the closet. did i mention that he is sleeping in the closet? how harry potter can you get?
and the babies kept screaming and screaming. my mum went in there (because i had given myself a time out and had to walk away from all things maternal and was browsing through vanity fair) and said sebastian was up and trying to get the babies to shush and lie down. she got him back into the closet.
(i hear them crying now……..ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!)
a few minutes later there is huge crying and my mother goes in there again. teresa…she calls me….
knowing that she used that name means it is serious, so i gallop into the room and what awaits me? sela and carys are in the same pack and play. both are crying. no blood, though.
did sebastian assist sela in getting into carys cot?
i don’t think so.
so i put sela back in her cot and stormed out, my footsteps hidden amongst the screams of indignation and anger.
and they are still screaming.
tomorrow will be better, and probably this afternoon will be too…but these next couple of hours i predict, based on my own shortcomings, tiredness and short temper, will be tough.
so
there
we
go…
and now
here
i
go
to
rescue
the
wailing
babeolas.
