Why did the chicken cross the road? What!?! Oh who knows…

Just a quick one today. I’m a chook with my head cut off this week, and chasing my own tail has become an understatement.

First of all, check me out over here at Seven Cherubs talking to Naomi for her Cherish Your Cherubs Project.

I’m super honoured and excited to be first up (even if the only reason I’m first is because I nearly wet my pants when Naomi emailed me and got my questions in as soon as my toddler gods of awful darling cherished children allowed).

Now, I’ve just been down the street after getting the Two jabbed to within an inch of their lives, fed them on mini pieces of chicken and deep fried potatoes, with a side of jelly beans out of guilt.

Actually, that’s a lie. It wasn’t guilt. I don’t feel guilty for getting them jabbed. I just got them lunch at The Big M because it’s right near the doctors surgery and I felt that today was not the day to have my parenting skills tested.

Obviously by dragging a screaming Roo past the playground and the possibility of a strawberry thickshake by her hair.

I just didn’t have it in me today. So strawberry thickshakes and chicken and “samburgers” it was. I was so flustered by the mechanics of the three kids in only the double pram I forgot to order myself lunch.

And thats ok because my hips didn’t need any more McFatness** and I’m about to bake myself some apple and cinnamon scroll and eat double cream Brie until I pass out.

Don’t worry, I’ve got a friend coming over to help me in my food coma quest on the premise of a playdate for our three year olds.

But back to the lack of my beautiful Precious today.

Paul is walking on egg shells and possibly even glass this afternoon. Because this morning, despite knowing I needed the triple pram for a much-put-off excursion, he. Took. Precious. To. Work. With. Him.

And no one has time to walk all over town swapping prams when they’ve got to have three kids ready in the pram and look halfway decent themselves.

And by no one I mean me.

I guess it’s not like Pal physically put the pram in the car for shits and giggles. He just didn’t get it out of the boot before leaving. But in my state of mind – as I dragged my three year old across the road by her wrist whilst trying to steer the double pram with one hand and a not-so-graceful ankle, whilst my leggings were pretty much falling down my ankles because in my rush to get ready this morning I didn’t notice I was putting my maternity leggings on instead of my other ones (which is an easy mistake to make when you hardly ever wear leggings and practically every pair of pants you own are black) – it was all Pal’s fault.

Also, rest assured my leggings were underneath a tunic. Leggings are not pants. They are a substitute for thick footed tights. Which I don’t like to wear because they either ride up in all the wrong places, or down when you are sprinting to get to the doctors on time whilst dragging a three year old and pushing two two year olds.

Which is what I was trying to avoid but didn’t manage to because I had the freakin maternity leggings on. Which are extra stretched in the maternity waistband due to an extra wide twin pregnancy.

Pal came to save the day AFTER the Two had been jabbed, I’d had to CARRY a crying Roo out of the doctors surgery (because I wouldn’t take Polly to the hospital, which is a WHOLE other story), then CARRY her crying out of the big M because some kid there told her she was headed to the park after the big M and Roo felt that me not letting her tag along with strangers was the worst thing to ever happen to her.

Next time I’ll be tempted to let her chase after another family’s car, but today I just didn’t have time.

So Pal comes to the rescue in the post office and thinks he’s awesome for finding Oscar’s shoe and putting it back on, and I don’t even have the energy to tell him I’ve already done it 57 billion times today. I insist he takes Roo home in the car with him so I can finish my errands with just the twins – and also because he can’t drive me home because he has my beautiful Precious triple pram in the boot of the car and the laws of physics dictate that a side by side double Phil & Ted’s and a triple ABC adventure buggy will not fit in the boot of a 2004 Holden Commodore at the same time.

Stupid laws of physics.

Did I mention this is all Pal’s fault?

I’m home now, in my pajamas because I’m absolutely certain our playdate guests won’t mind.

I now have to go and bake and clean, because in the 30 mins I had to do all that I instead have spent writing this.

Leaving me 20 minutes to make my bathroom and kitchen guest-ready, vacuum the floors and pretend I’m not a crazy person.

Winning.

I’d like to end this with another heartfelt thanks to Traci from Precious Hearts. She gave me a pram last year and has helped me avoid over a year of days like this.

Except for the days when Pal takes my pram to work with him.

Yeah, except for those.

Over and out.

P.S. Pal, you are lucky I’m not a particularly violent person. At least in public, anyway.