Tiger's gone back to work. FFS.
He and I were both sick the whole time he was home. FFS.
Tiger is still sick. FFS.
The boys got sick just before he went back to work. FFS.
Brilliant timing. Not. FFS.
As per usual, everything goes wrong when he's not here. FFS.
The day he left I twisted my ankle. FFS.
I have no idea how I did it. One minute I was walking along, the next I was in agony. FFS.
Chai started crying because I was hurt so I had to pretend I was okay so he'd calm down. FFS.
I couldn't put any weight on my foot which made pretending to be okay very difficult. FFS.
I somehow managed to get inside and iced my foot for a while, whilst Chai asked me over and over again why we couldn't walk to the park. FFS.
Luckily my foot made some sort of miraculous recovery. Not FFS.
It's still sore but nowhere near as bad as it was earlier in the week. Not FFS.
For the last month all the boys talk about are penises, vagina's and bumholes. FFS.
At first it was mildly amusing, now it's just annoying. FFS.
Everything is penis, vagina or bumhole something. FFS.
For example instead of eating an apple they'll want a penis apple or a bumhole vagina apple. FFS.
One day I heard them arguing in the bath over who was called Penis and who was called Bumhole Vagina Pirate. FFS.
Yesterday morning I was trying to find out what Eljay wanted on his toast. It went something like this:
Me: Eljay, what do you want on your toast?
Me: Very funny. What do you want on your toast?
Me: I can't put penis on your toast, what would you like on your toast? Do you want paste?
E: No paste. Bumhole.
Me: You want bumhole on your toast?
Me: That's not possible either. Do you want promite?
Me: Okay, until you tell me what you want on your toast I can't give you any breakfast. What do you want on your toast?
At that point I gave up. FFS.
Adding to my irritation, I'm trying to go sugar free at the moment. FFS.
Clearly I'm failing as a mother. Send help. And chocolate. Lots of chocolate. Pana chocolate if possible.