Hi! <Waves>

Funny and honest tales from a made-to-work Dad of three, wobbling, graying, and laughing his way through parenthood. Armed to the teeth with Nerf guns, full of pie, fighting a chocolate addiction, but genuinely honoured to be at least half of Team Parents (yay!).
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Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts

16 November 2017

Rage Against the Dad (Machine)...

Boy10 had slept over at a mates house the night before.
Which probably means he had no sleep.
Me and Mrs. Amazing we're busy getting ready for a party at our place.
Miss6 and BabyBoy3 were happy enough playing together.
In their mad little way...

What is this?
Miss6: 'Our babies house'
But that's right where I am sweeping! Tidying for the party!!!
<BabyBoy3 stomps about in sweepings>
Right! No new toys out! We've getting ready for a party!!!
BabyBoy3: 'Awwwwwww'
Miss6: <Sticks out tongue>
Put everything away... No toys out...
<Both head off and make mess around the corner>

(Seemed rather apt for them both... (source))

Team Parent (yay!) spend the morning cleaning.
And getting things ready for party. Boy10 was asked to tidy his room.
As it looked like an actual Nerf war and explosion had taken place. Bullets everywhere. And to de-hide all the hidden clothes.
Miss6 and BabyBoy3 were left to play and chill out.

By lunch time.
Team Parent (yay!)'s patience with Boy10 was wafer thin.
There had been rudeness. Strops. And meanness to Miss6 and BabyBoy3. Which isn't acceptable. Big brothers should be kind.
I'm a third child. I can still feel the injustices elder siblings can dish out.
<Weeps and dramatically sweeps away>

Towards the end of lunch.
Of a not very fun. Will you please eat up the party starts soon lunch. That had taken nearly an hour.
As they were all being utter fussy pains. Mrs. Amazing excused herself from the table and went to have a little moment away from the kids. For everyone's safety.
It was combination of Boy10 being rude and obnoxious to us all. And Miss6 being the world's slowest and most annoying eater. And BabyBoy3 had joined in, as little children do, when the big ones are doing stuff.
Team Parent (yay!) still had lots to do before the party and 'The Annoying Three' were refusing to eat a plain jacket potato.
With utter class and control Mrs. Amazing excused herself to me, and headed upstairs for fifteen minutes chill out.
Leaving me to fight the demons.

Back! BACK! You hellcats!
BabyBoy3: 'Meow!'
... er... kind of… er… not really...

I told them all off.
A ‘look what you have done to your poor Mother’ speech. For shame and all that. Boy10 was unrepentant however. <Eye twitches>
Boy10 lasted another five minutes at the table. Honestly I did my best. But I was up against someone really keen to be told off. I took the answering back. The rudeness. The obnoxiousness. Actual obnoxiousness. For what felt like hours. But was five minutes.
Then I snapped.

(Show of hands… Who wants what from me today?
There’s no point putting up both hands Mrs. Amazing…
It still only counts as one…)

Up I reared from my seat like a stallion.
Snatched the the knife and fork from his hands that he was STILL drumming on the table. Despite being told not to. A billion times. And send him to his room.
Off he stropped. Me helping him go. Him sending a few rude words my way. An insult or two.
Nice.

I walk back into the kitchen fuming.
The other two ate like the wind after that. BabyBoy3 ate the last of his food very quickly and looks very sorry. Then very sweetly did his best request to get down ever.
Miss6 whined once more. Until she realised how close I was to losing it with her.
Then she shushed and ate her jacket potato. Slowly.
But she ate it.

With lunch done.
I go and find Mrs. Amazing and explain that Boy10 just got worse. She is not surprised and absolves me from any blame. Which I needed. Thanks.
I offer a cuppa and she says she will down in a moment. Refreshed and ready to rejoin the battle. Which Mrs. Amazing was.
Which was lucky. As ten minutes later it's my turn. As I am about throw Boy10 throw several windows, my chank totally offed. When Mrs. Amazing suggests I take a break and she take over. Which I did. And she did. Dids allround.
A quick break had clearly made a huge difference for Mrs. Amazing. Maybe it would for me.
I use my time wisely and play stupid games on my phone meditate.

Then we had the party.
More rudeness from Boy10 during it. Boy10 called me a 'Grumpy Old Man' in front of his mates. Which is very rude and hurtful, who’s scruffy looking?. Mrs. Amazing made him retract his comment and apologise. I was holding a can of spray squirty cream at the time (don’t ask) and Boy10 was very lucky to walk away with nostrils empty.
However. All in all. It was a fun and lovely, but hard, and exhausting, party.
Team Parent (yay!) were knackered.

Then there was the rage.
And it wasn't anyone's fault. It was just bad luck. <Sighs> <Shakes fist at universe>
Guests gone. A good dent in the clear-up operation had been made. But it was 6pm and bed time. And everyone was going to bed early.
Especially Boy10.

Considering your behaviour...
... and how tired you are...
... I calculate that you need to go to bed... three days ago...
Mrs. Amazing: 'DEAL!' <Runs to bed>
No! Not you... <Trails off>
<Coughs on the dust Mrs. Amazing kicked up in her haste>

Miss6 and BabyBoy3 were sat.
In jammies waiting for a cartoon before bed. But Boy10 was still watching a movie. Which Miss6 and BabyBoy3 had no interest in. However there was only five minutes left. So considering the mood Boy10 was in. He was allowed to watch the end. Whilst the other two waited.
I get milk for BabyBoy3 and do some more eating clearing up .

When the normally amazing magic box.
The magic one that sucks the tele programs from the aerial and shows us their wonder and flickering images of joy. Records them and stuff. That fella.
Well that lovely magic box started the rage rolling.

At 6pm exactly.
A cartoon for Miss6 and BabyBoy3 started recording. The one they wanted to watch ironically. The magic box was already recording the film Boy10 was watching. But on a +1 hour channel. As we had missed the start of it. Thought he'ld like that.
The magic box did what it was told. However it can only record two things if you are actually watching one of them. The magic box automatically changed channel to Miss6 and BabyBoy3's cartoon. Stopping Boy10 from watching the final minutes of his film.
I ran in as I heard him getting very cross about it mouth full of cake.

Boy10: 'Who did that? WHO DID THAT?'

It takes me a few moments to realise what happened.
It takes a while as Boy10 is in my face sure that I have stopped him watching his film.
Miss6 and BabyBoy3 are ignoring Boy10 as their cartoon is on. They're happy.
Luckily there is a message on screen that explains what the magic box has done. So I can at least explain and point to Boy10 why he cannot change channel.
He isn't listening though. He's just getting madder and madder.
I think I explained to him, calmly mind, and with differing words, ten times in a row what had happened. But he wasn't listening.
He was just getting madder.

Finally he got it.
And instantly wants Miss6 and BabyBoy3's cartoon recording stopped immediately.
I'm in two minds as I want them to watch their cartoon. So they can go to bed.
Boy10 would only be missing a few minutes of a film he has already seen. And it's recording anyway!
But Boy10's is adamantium and his voice just gets louder and crosser.
Eventually Mrs. Amazing hears and suggests he come upstairs and watch it on the small, but very much working, tele upstairs.
I leap on this as a perfect solution and tell Boy10. Over and over. Go watch your program upstairs. It's on. Go. Go. I am still talking calmly (I KNOW! Amazing huh!).
Boy10 however is not listening.

(Tada! I got a new badge at work!
Boy10: ‘Cool! What did you get it for?’
Pardon?... <Points at badge>)

Boy10 seems to have blown a fuse.
And in rage he starts unplugging everything connected to the tele. I am not really sure what to do. I know reaching out for him would be a huge mistake. He wants a fight. Any physical contact will go badly right now.
So I sit on the sofa with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 smiling and being happy with them. So they don't freak out or sense the stress in the room. And they don't.
Somehow.

Boy10 finally leaves.
Everything unplugged. Tele nearly knocked over. He had to abandon his plan to remove the scart cable. As it's an old tele and pretty heavy. I'd help obv. if he asked... But he's not really going to ask for my help right now.
Before he goes he stops to throw a big cushion at my head. Not fun-ly (real word) either.
Right at my head. With malice. I manage to ninja it aside and it wallops into the glass light shade.
Which wobbles…. OOOOOO! … and does NOT break!
Phew.

I smile to Miss6 and BabyBoy3 to show them nothing is wrong.
But inside I am a twisted wreck of anger and stress. Outside. Happy Daddy.
I start reconnecting the cables. Boy10 appears again. And hits me with a pillow. As hard as he can.
It's a pillow so I am fine. But he is not playing. Despite his poor choice of weapons.
A few more hits. And I realise I am more in danger of being knocked into the tele by a pillow and falling over. Then actually being hurt by something so soft.
So I move into more space and put my arms by my side. My decision is just to let him hit me with the pillow as much as he likes.
Let him burn his anger out.

No idea if that's a good tactic or not.
Someone did that to me once when I was young. I felt really helpless and embarrassed afterwards. So I am not sure it was the best choice.
But it's what I choose in that moment.

Boy10 goes at me for a bit.
But quickly realises pillows are not doing what he wants. Which is to hurt me.
So he moves in to start shoving me. Softly. He's only ten.
But that changes the tone of what is going on for me. This is now aggressive behaviour that I can't tolerate. It needs to end instantly.
I buffet his hands away and start towards him. Calmly mind.
Telling Boy10 to go his room. He is done here.
Go. Go.

A get another pillow thrown at me down the stairs.
But finally he is gone. I move back to Miss6 and BabyBoy3.
Put on a lovely, the world is all fine, la-la-la-laaaa, Sarah and Duck on tele.
They appear unfazed by everything.
Good.

(Sarah: ‘Ooo that weekend was rather heavy Duck’
Sarah: ‘I’m still seeing talking rainbows...’
Duck: ‘QUACK’

Meanwhile.
Upstairs Mrs. Amazing has taken over with Boy10. And he is releasing all his frustrations.
By shouting. Very loudly at the Mrs. Amazing. His room. His toys. The universe basically.
I imagine there was fist shaking too.
<Shakes fist>

Eventually there is quiet.
A deep bath is run for Boy10. CD player put next to bath for Boy10 to listen to, and focus on. Boy10 in bath. Mrs. Amazing calls down for Miss6 and BabyBoy3. I respond we are on our way.
Bedtime is a go.

Me and Miss6 have a lovely giggling story time.
Afterwards I pass Boy10 on the stairs. He gives me the dirtiest of looks. Like I was Piers Morgan. Utter contempt and hatred.
I smile back nicely. But he is clearly furious with me.
I head down stairs and continue tidying up. Feeling very exhausted and emotionally drained from keeping my cool with Boy10.
But the kitchen is a mess and there's lots of chocolates to eat.

After his bath.
Boy10 comes down to watch something. Eyes pretty red.
I sit next to him and say something nice and a bit funny (I believe).
Lighthearted anyway.

Boy10: <Looks furious> 'Shut up!'

Right.
Yes rude. Yes not acceptable. But this is not the right time.
I try once more to talk to him. He makes it very clear everything is my fault and he is furious with me. Fine. I leave.
Back to cleaning for me and hoovering up leftover snacks.

I go find Mrs. Amazing.
And ask her to please have a word with Boy10. Team Parent (yay!) quickly discuss stuff.
Military camp?
Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes. Siberia'
Nice….
We agree there is nothing to be gained in telling Boy10 off tonight.
But Mrs. Amazing asks there's anything I need from Boy10. An apology?
I am pretty sick of him right now. So I say so. Mrs. Amazing understands.
I add that I don't think it's good Boy10 goes to bed thinking everything is my fault.
Mrs. Amazing agrees and says she'll have a word.

I can hear BabyBoy3 still awake.
So go to put him back to bed. He tells me that if I don't give him his shield to go with his sword. He won't be my friend. I tell him it doesn't matter he will always be my BabyBoy3 and I love him. Now give me the sword, why have you got a sword? It’s bedtime!
BabyBoy3 stabs me in the tummy with his LEGO sword and after some encouragement goes back to bed. Without sword.
I leave. Feeling pretty unloved and stabbed. <Bottom lip out>
And head back to the kitchen mess.

Some music is needed.
And it soon weaves it magical magicy magic ness works. I lose myself in music. And I shift my 'Nobody loves me' mood. Mrs. Amazing finds me and asks if I can get Boy10 a USB cable for his walkman MP3 player. I find one and head upstairs.
Not knowing what Mrs. Amazing has said to Boy10. I didn't ask.
Mrs. Amazing may have set up this whole situation so we could make peace.
Or Boy10 could have her asked to set this up so we could make peace.
Or...

... this was all a test and I can finally take my place as an Avenger! or there's an exhausted little boy (Boy10) upstairs just wanting to listen something before he goes to bed. Chill himself out. Wonder where he might have got that habit from?...
<Puts on louder music>

There's no point discussing what has happened with him.
Mrs. Amazing has more than likely covered it all. So I just help him setup his music.
Boy10 is being nice. But is clearly very close to the edge still. His anger gone though. Burnt out. Hormones stopped messing with his head.
Boy10 is no longer glaring at me as though I'd eaten all his sweets again and deleted all his saved Minecraft worlds. (Which I would never do, some things are sacrosanct).
I sort his MP3 player out.

I wish Boy10 goodnight.
And pull him into my arms without really thinking about it. In hindsight this could have gone bad. Really bad. Boy10 could have felt trapped and got cross again.
But as I embrace him in a standing hug. He doesn't resist.
We hug each other hard with a lot of feeling.
A good squeeze if you will.

Now I am probably could be wrong.
But to me that hug felt like sorry - I love you Dad.
In one hug all is forgiven.
<Hands back all the LEGO man heads I had removed as revenge>
For both of us.

I'm in bed by 9:30pm that night.
Having bathed for at least an hour. I even took a beer up with me.
My body worn out and tight everywhere from contained stress and frustration. I don't sleep great for the same reason.
I find it really hard keeping all those emotions in and keeping my cool. And my body pays a price for it. Must get better at letting stress and frustration go.
<Makes note>
<Loses note>

(This is the metaphorical armies of hormones Team Parent (yay!)
will face in the <Shudders> teenage years… thrice...
<Orders forty giant eagles>)

Especially as Boy10 is only ten.
We've not even hit the teenage years yet. And Miss6 isn't that far behind…
And then there's BabyBoy3…
Theoretically and technically they could all be in their teens at the same time - Boy19, Miss16 and BabyBoy13!!!
<Gives you a very wide eyed look>
<Signs up to as many pubs meditation classes as possible>
X


22 June 2017

Big Brother to the Rescue...

I find myself packing for camp with Boy9 again.
But this time I am prepared.
Patience set to maximum. Tolerance turned up to eleven.
I am ready for Boy9...
Right, you need two pairs of socks
Boy9: 'What?'
Socks. Two pairs. No not those on your feet... Behind you in the draw
Boy9: <Rummages in socks and pants draw>
Boy9: <Shrugs> 'There's none in there'
There are at least five pairs as I put them there myself... <Gives look>
Boy9: <More rummaging>
[Single sock coming flying through the air]
[Another lands on my head]
[Two more in opposite corners of the room]
We need them here <Points at rucksack>
Boy9: 'Oh...' <Collects all four socks together>
They are all odd?
Boy9: 'That's fine!'
Yeah I don't care if you are wearing odd socks.. I just don't understand how they got separated? I know I put them in, in pairs
Boy9: <Looks suspicious>
Have you been depairing socks that I've put away? Do you actually do that?
Boy9: 'Come on! We need to pack...'
...
Fine. Two pairs of pants...
Boy9: <Shrugs> 'There's none...'
Try again...
[Two pairs of pants land on my head]
...
<Turns tolerance up to twelve>
(BabyBoy3’s current talking and walking volume settings)

Whilst me and Boy9 pack for his trip.
BabyBoy3 is giving Team Parent (yay!) the runaround over bed time.
Miss6 went to bed without fuss and was crashed out in minutes. Bless her littleness.
However I am million percent sure the last thing she said before falling asleep was 'I'm not tired'...
Miss6: 'I'm not tired'
Yeah you are
Mrs. Amazing: 'Yes you are'
Miss6: 'I AM NOT!!! ARHGGHHGGHHGH'
Miss6: <Throws colouring on the floor>
Miss6: <Rages and sulks for ten minutes>
Miss6: <Falls asleep>
BabyBoy3 is also tired.
He keeps walking into things. A classic sign for tiredness and drunkenness. And there's no way he's drunk, on only two shots.
As I leave BabyBoy3's room and say good night, stay in your bed, go straight to sleep, do not pass go, it is bedtime, no running about, no charging up and down the hallway, sleep is what you want and what we want, goto sleep. In my best sleepy time voice obv.
I say it with confidence. Confident that my littlest boy, pooped out, will soon succumb to sleep.
I am a fool.
Mrs. Amazing meanwhile heads out into the night.
Mrs. Amazing: ‘Freedom!!!  Freedom!!!’
As she is off teaching her axe throwing class.
Leaving me Boy9 to help pack for camp and put to sleep.  And BabyBoy3 to convince to sleep. Again.
[Sounds of BabyBoy3 running about, not asleep]
Amazingly the packing goes well.
Boy9 is helpful. I send Boy9 off to find what he needs. Whilst I relax on Boy9's bed playing on my phone. Putting BabyBoy3 back to bed whenever he is running about.
Sometimes taking whatever toy he has found away. Sometimes not.
Putting him back under his sheets. Sometimes on top. I mix it up.
But my focus is on Boy9.
BabyBoy3 can wait. I cannot sit outside of this door and watch Boy9 pack.
There's no telling what Boy9 might pack without supervision.
My plan is simple.
Ignore BabyBoy3 and get Boy9 settled first.
As BabyBoy3 is finding bedtime a brilliant fun game at the moment. And it doesn't really matter what we do. He giggles and laughs about everything. Then gets back up and plays some more.
Take a toy away and he just gets another to play with. Or if you manage to find something that he really, really wants, and take it. Then BabyBoy3 cries a bit, then gets out of bed and goes looking for it. Giggling.
Nope. It's easier to ignore him and then pick him up where ever he has crashed out.
Simples.
Boy9 is ready for bed.
I start reading him a chapter from The Sea of Monsters (An excellent Percy Jackson book). Whilst ignoring any sounds from BabyBoy3's room as he rearranges his toys and furniture.

[Thud-thud-thud]
I glance up and BabyBoy3 is stood at Boy9's door kicking it. Not hard. Just his little leg swinging back and forth.
I get up and BabyBoy3 hears me and runs back to his bed. Hides under his sheets. Giggling.
As he's in bed there's not much for me to do.
I return to Boy9 and continue reading.

[Thud-thud-thud]
Boy9 is giggling and waving back at BabyBoy3. I tell him to stop and not to encourage him.

[Thud-thud-thud]
[Ominous silence]
I glance up from the book expecting to see BabyBoy3 stood in front of me.
But instead all I can see is his little hand reaching into Boy9's room. Under his bookshelves. Then his hand is gone and BabyBoy3 thuds off back to his room...
Boy9: 'He took one of my toys!'
... Did he? Which one?
Boy9: 'Don't know. I want it back'
Do you need it right now? <Frowny face>
Boy9: '... Suppose not'
Right choice...
I continue reading.
Hoping that with stolen treasure BabyBoy3 will now play in his bed and then fall asleep.
[SCRAPE-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD]
[SCRAPE-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD]
I stop reading.
The noise is too much and will wake Miss6. And that would be terrible.
I find BabyBoy3 running a stolen toy car along the radiators. He sees me and legs it back to his room. Giggling.
I chase after him and take the toy out of his hands. And then throw it onto a high shelf.
I am quite chanked off by now. My tolerance all used up.
BabyBoy3 cries about the toy. But I ignore him and head back to Boy9.
Leaving BabyBoy3 to wail, ideally, himself to sleep.
It's at this point whilst I am reading to Boy9.
That Boy9 somehow manages to fall over, whilst laying down, on top of me. And elbow me in the face and knock the book out of my hands.
I am not best pleased.
What on earth are you doing???
Boy9: <Shrugs>
Are you listening to me read? Coz that seems to me to be bare minimum you should be doing whilst I read? To you! <Gives look>
Boy9: '...'
And… <Gives big eyes look>
Boy9: '... What?'
<Prompting voice> Sorry Daddy for falling on you, and elbowing you in the face...
Boy9: 'Yeah what you said'
<Gives look> <Is secretly proud>
[Door slamming noise from BabyBoy3]
...
<Anger escalates>
Then the doorbell rang.
I run downstairs. And it's our lovely neighbours come to baby sit. I hadn't told them we didn't need them this week. Crap.
I say a thousand sorries (??) and run back upstairs.
Where I find BabyBoy3 moving a speaker into his room...
BabyBoy3: 'Me music!'

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #678: Move speakers into room)

Very cute and sweet.
But also pretty annoying when he was put to bed an hour ago. I trot him back to bed.
And promise he can show me his music tomorrow.

I finally finish reading to Boy9.
And wish him good night, light off, see you in the morning.
Boy9 goes utterly silly and refuses to go to bed or turn his light off. He lays sideways in his bed with his bum in the air.
My temper is now dangerously close to exploding. I wish Boy9 a gritted good night and just leave and head downstairs.
And then sit on the sofa playing stupid games on my phone.

To calm down.
All my lovely tolerance and patience has been utterly eroded by those two rat bags. I can still hear BabyBoy3 bouncing about in his room. My room. The bathroom.
He's really not got this going to bed thing.

I hear Boy9 get up and go to the toilet.
Which is fine. Except I spent an hour putting him to bed! <Grumbles>
But I am not worried about Boy9. He will go to sleep eventually. He may nip down stairs to see me a few times beforehand. But if he is wise. He will not.
(He was wise).
BabyBoy3 however.
Is now in my room. I can hear his feet thudding about through the ceiling.
I go up and put him back to bed again. I shut his door and then wait five seconds.
I open his door and he has already got out of bed and is playing Lego on the floor.
He sees me and dives back into bed. Giggling.
I try to tell him how disappointed I am, that he hasn't gone to sleep. How it's bad behaviour. How my all of chank is very definitely offed.
I try my best to guilt him into staying in his bed. But it feels utterly wrong.
Ans I can't do it anyway. Because he's three and he doesn’t understand.
BabyBoy3 is still smiling and giggling away at me. His Dad, who he loves, and looks up to.
OMFB! What on earth am I trying to do?
<Is disgusted with self>
So I resort to my old desperate, badly thought out, ways.
I don't really know why. I'd just dodged one bullet. Anyway...
I start taking his toys away. He cries. I ignore him and hide all his toys in my room.
BabyBoy3 chases me back and forth as I take his toys. I put him back to bed.
I'm stressed right out and knowing I am being an idiot. But I can’t stop.
I stomp off downstairs and I can hear BabyBoy3 leave his bed and start moving his toys back to his room. Well into a line towards his room.
I explode (internally).

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #48973: Line up toys)
(Note the train string is in line, the nutter)
It is now nine o'clock in the evening.
I've been putting children to bed for two hours. And I started that the moment I got home from work. I haven't even had a cup of tea.
I sit downstairs and ignore BabyBoy3 for a bit longer. For both of our safety.
Until I crack and am just storming upstairs when the doorbell rings again.
What the [Obsenities] emu-smeg now!!!
I don't recognise the car through the window.
And I am ready to be quite annoyed at whoever is at the door. Should they not have a good reason to be knocking on my door. I rip the door open and it's my BiggestBrother (I have three).
With a smile and a present for me.
My anger dissipates.
It’s lovely to see his smiling face. With present. It's nice to see another adult. It's so see someone that doesn't need putting to bed. It's nice to see someone that needs nothing from me.
BiggestBrother asks how’s it's going.
I'm pretty sure my eye was twitching a lot as I said 'not great'...

A smidge of trouble getting BabyBoy3 to sleep, to be honest...
Hey? You don't fancy having a try do you?
BiggestBrother: ' Yeah alright...!' <Enters house>
And upstairs big brother stomped.
Shoes still on, thudding up the stairs. He's a fair bit bigger in frame than me too. He sounds like at least four or five of me on the stairs (Which reflects more on my size than his).
I hear his deep Dad voice deployed on BabyBoy3. I hear BabyBoy3 firmly being told to go to sleep and stay in bed. Then BiggestBrother thuds back down stairs. He's gotta go.
It's a flying visit.

I wasn't until BiggestBrother turned up.
That I realised just how much help I needed at that moment. I was pretty on the edge of sanity. He was like a big hairy angel to me. And in he swooped. Hairy like.
And BabyBoy3 does know BiggestBrother so he wouldn't have been too scared. But hopefully scared enough to stay in bed this time.
<Crosses fingers>
After BiggestBrother has left.
I head into the kitchen and start baking. I have a cake to make for Boy9.
I’m mentally all over the shop. And baking is good therapy for my stressed and grumpy mind. Some music and much cleaning of chocolate covered spoons later. I am feeling back to myself.
I sneak upstairs and check on BabyBoy3. I'd left it ages as I didn't want to undo any staying-in-bed-ness magic BiggestBrother has worked. I find BabyBoy3 totally asleep, tucked up in bed.
Sleeping like a little snorey angel.

(Things to do rather than going to sleep #52: Place all soft toys on duvet,
on floor, to make sleeping harder)
(... it’s hard to stay cross at such a cutie…
<Manages it>)

Bless.
And thank you BiggestBrother. I needed that.
X