I was queueing up in the beauty line in the womb when patience was being handed out two rows down; consequently I have an incredibly short fuse which is set off easily, and mainly by twin boy.
So I try to avoid situations where I will end up screaming like a mad banshee in public. I plan potentially stressful situations well in advance so I can get through the day with my children intact.
Sometimes it goes wrong…
I am currently inflicted with working mothers guilt. As a cure I am using the spend more time with them cream. In my attempt to ensure they don’t end up deeply flawed by my absence in their lives four days a week I have taken them on memorable excursions, most of which leave me hugging the gin bottle for comfort most weekend evenings.
Today is no exception, our excursion is equivalent to a descent into madness. Myself, bb, twin boy and girl are travelling alone, by bus, train, and tube to the big smoke on a rather hot and humid day to explore the delights of the science museum. He who helped create them is playing cricket and heading to the pub; in his role as daddy daycare he is exempt from working parents guilt.
But anyway, I digress…
I planned the day well, picnic was made the night before, all the kids reverted to type and were up at six to allow for plenty of time to make our nine oh two train. We arrived at the station, bought breakfast, and a paper (a girl can dream can’t she) and we waited on platform five for the chuffaluffa to arrive.
At nine oh one we heard the following announcement.
“Platform alteration. The nine oh two train to london paddington will now depart from platform nine.”
The other passengers started to panic like startled chickens. Clucking in anger they started to trot to the stairs, whilst I gathered up the twins, wrenching sausage baguettes from their paws and throwing bags onto the sleeping monkey in the buggy.
Then our six legs headed towards the lift which creaked to our level with the pace and haste of an elderly gentleman waking up in the morning. The doors cracked open before us and like a tornado we spun inside pressing buttons madly.
We crawled to the next floor, the slowness of the lift infuriating me and lighting my fuse. The doors eased open and we spilled out, raced across the landing and found the lifts twin brother waiting to deliver us to platform nine. Again speed was not a built in characteristic of lift two and again we stood twitching on a agonisingly frustratingly slow descent. The doors eventually slid open and from our vantage point inside the lift we watched the doors of the nine oh two direct to london paddington slam shut.
I choked back fumes of irritation,which were not helped by twin boys nonchalant statement of;
“Whoopsy daisy! Missed that then.”
But then suddenly music to my ears came over the tannoy.
“The next train to depart for london paddington is the delayed eighty fifty leaving at nine oh eight from platform…”
You guessed it, bloody platform five.
It was like carry on meets wacky races as we reversed our route; sandwiches flying out of the buggy as we flew back across the platform heading to the lifts. Up and down we travelled and we arrived back on platform five. Again the doors of the lift cranked open and in perfect symmetry the train doors slammed shut.
In the pit of my stomach I dragged a smile as actually even I could see some humour in the image of one unkempt woman and three kids leaping from platform to platform.
However this went on four more times; my sense of humour died and crawled up the station guards backside.
We eventually made the train, I was a wreck.
I can’t even begin to blog about the tube; let’s just say it involved steps, stairs, a buggy, a wailing baby and mischievous twins and a whole bunch of tourists.
I’ll be having the gin at lunchtime I think…