Chickens in a box

Woken up this morning at 5.30am by William, who curled up into my back, wouldn't speak a word and refused to go back to his own bed. He wouldn't eat anything for breakfast no matter how much we coaxed and cajoled and hid himself under the table for the duration. Typically, it was the one day that I'd arranged to go Christmas wreath-making with Sonya, something that had been in the diary for weeks. I was really looking forward to it and had arranged for the boys to go this extra day to nursery so I could make the morning. Not sure William was genuinely ill, I was blisteringly unsympathetic. Finally, after he projectile vomited his Ribena onto the bathroom floor, I realised I was being horrible and he was genuinely ill. Then to add insult to injury James threw Rabbit into the vomit.....you can imagine the rest... What to do? I felt so selfish, but really wanted to make my wreath, and in my heart of hearts I knew I should keep William at home. Eventually I compromised, W...

Re: typo in previous post; should have been 'its'. See what happens when you get overtired? Ashamed.

Marbles are my latest reward scheme; everytime the boys do something good they get a new one, and everytime they're naughty I take one away. When the jar is full, we go to the toy shop and they can choose something small (rubber lizards are only 30p and the current favourite). Alas today both have lost marbles, after over-tiredness set in and so did the histrionics. A happy, busy day, but my patience is at it's lowest ebb around 5.30 so dealing with furious children in a calm way is exceptionally hard. I'm afraid lobbing Rabbit in William's direction helped relieve my frustration slightly, although simultaneously served to inflame his temper....funny. In hindsight. It's very hard to remain serene at all times, but I really do try.

I am knackered, no really, more than I usually am. This is down to just one small factor that answers to the name of James (or Jim-Bob). He's decided to wake up every night between 1am and 5am, totter into our bedroom and demand 'cuddle Mummy!' Being nice (and knackered), I have, to date, acquiesed. But enough is enough and this constant interruption to my beauty sleep could be tolerated no longer. This morning's 'cuddle ME!' was late, 5am and an outraged James descended swiftly into hitching shrieks when he realised he'd been thwarted. In the dark, sub-zero temperatures of the early morning I tried to appeal to my furious child, explaining that Mummy and Daddy needed to sleep too. He wasn't having any of it. Reinforcements were called, Eddie's technique was to bundle James unceremoniously back into bed and pull the door to. Shrieks turned to cries; cries turned to sobs; sobs turned to the odd gasp and sniffle before the poor child finally ga...