Why I am Blogging at 4.15 in the afternoon

2.15pm I am attending L Junior's "Mother's Day" performance and Afternoon Tea. Which is exceptionally Twee and equally Wonderful. L Junior's (brilliant) teacher has put a lot of work into it all and the classroom looks particularly inviting. L Junior, however, obviously think it is Utter Shite and refuses to sing the songs; he favours instead to roll his eyes and yank his lower lids so far down his face that Other Mothers seem worried that one of his eyeballs may pop out and land on one of their well behaved and nicely mannered singing offspring.
2.30pm Hanging from a peg with other sheets of paper criss crossing the classroom, there is an A2 piece of artwork with L Junior's name on it. I am reading L Junior's words "About Mummy" next to an alien drawing of someone with alarming amounts of hair (me). He says "Mummy has a Big Head"*. Um, thanks Pumpkin.
3.00pm I am trying to Wrangle L Junior and Baby J into the car (also known as The Fun Bus**) in order to collect the Older Boys. They are having none of it. I am working up quite a heat, trying to get straps and belts on, and a sweat moustache is forming on my top lip. Nice.
3.10pm Having finally found a parking space outside The Big School and found myself to be not late, I have settled in to Child Spotting as is my chore each day at this time, as swarms of Children wearing the same clothes as my own children make their way across the tarmac to the school gate. The trick is to catch them and get them into The Fun Bus with doors closed and engine running, before they spot any of their friends that they have not seen since, uh, lunchtime, that they need to have a half an hour "catch up" with.
3.28pm I am still waiting.
3.30pm C is (finally) in the car and is lamenting my Bitch like qualities for not allowing him to walk home on his own, totally unsupervised. Yup, I really am a terrible mother, him being a grand old eight years old and all. L is swinging upside down from some Monkey Bars, some way off.
3.40pm We arrive home and I announce that we are going to clean out The Fun Bus as there is a strange smell in there. This idea is met with resistance. A LOT of resistance. My Children apparently "hate me". Brilliant. This is now a matter of principle and we ARE going to clean out the Fun Bus. I clear the School Bags; lunchboxes; Gas Bills (hey, I didn't actually say it was all THEIR mess); random legs of toys long forgotten etc and dump them unceremoniously on the driveway. I retrieve the vacuum cleaner from it's hideout and drag it out to the Fun Bus. Slightly out of puff, from the exertion of it all,I announce "Mummy has done the hard bit, I'd like you to vacuum please." I return to the house.
3.50pm The Vacuum (still silent) flies past the front door. There is a scream; followed by some shouting. Then comes the sound of a siren, which turns out to be my six year old, crying. I wait.
3.55pm I have calmed L (six year old); retrieved vacuum; asked the rest of the boys to please be nice to one another or stay AWAY from one another.
4.00pm Are they nice to each other? Are they bollocks. There is more shouting.
4.05pm I find Bread, Jam, Milkshake, butter and other treats laid out on the outside table. The Boys are having a "party". They have been no where near the FB.
4.07pm I decide to watch the boys vacuum...surely they won't be able to worm their way out of Cleaning the Fun Bus now. Baby J is playing with the vacuum. "But Mum, he is happy playing with the hoover, I don't want to upset him" (L).
C is busy playing limbo with a "scooby" tied around the wooden pillars at the front of the house.
4.10pm I finish explaining that the vacuuming would have been finished by now if they had just done it when I had asked.
4.13pm The boys resign themselves to cleaning the FB. Finally. I walk around the house to retrieve Baby J from a flowerbed. He is most pissed off that I have chosen to do this. Soil tastes good.
4.14pm There are shouts and shrieks from the driveway. They are not happy shouts and shrieks. Oddly (or not), there is no whirr of Vacuum Cleaner motor. There are however, bangs and crashes and crying.
4.15pm Fuck this. Mummy needs to swear.

I am going to blog one great big swear, because I AM FUCKING SICK AND TIRED OF PLAYING REFEREE AND HAVING TO SUPERVISE YOUR EVERY MOVE, BOYS, AND IN LIEU OF BEING ABLE TO SHOUT THIS AT YOU AS THAT WOULD BE WRONG AND SOMEWHAT ABUSIVE, I SHALL VALIDATE MY SWEARING by writing it here.

So FUCK OFF WITH YOUR PETTY LITTLE SQUABBLES. CLEAN THE FUCKING CAR BEFORE I FUCKING LOSE IT. STOP ACTING LIKE LITTLE SHITS. BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT LITTLE SHITS AND I AM REALLY NOT UP FOR THIS RIGHT NOW. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. Please.

I shall now go to supervise the cleaning of The Fun Bus by my darling, rambunctious little boys. Thanks for the therapy.

*He also says some lovely things...such as "My Mummy is 7 years old and she plays Soccer with me" (I think it was about me anyway).

** Because we like calling it that...don't take the piss.