Laundry day

Good evening everyone! Today has passed in a blur of folding clothes, feeding kids and folding clothes. The baby woke at 4am again this morning. He has a cold and a cough and so was very restless all night. Therefore, I skipped my workout again and stumbled out of bed at 9am to get ready for the mass that I had foolishly agreed to go to. I feed the baby and shout at my husband to get Child#2 and 3 up for mass. I then wish him a Happy Birthday in a nice voice. I had forgotten that I had intended to get up early and make him a nice breakfast. Oh well, what he doesn't know won't bother him. I hurriedly squeeze into a pair of 'work trousers'. If I'm not at work I live in jeans or workout gear. Not that I work out mind...but I have the intention of doing so and make lists about doing so every day.
I race downstairs to check if the others are ready. Child#3 is sitting in bed wearing a vest and adidas shorts. I blink in confusion. Is he planning on wearing that to mass? I ask him if he is ready and he retorts that he is not going and wasting his time at mass. Already late, I blow a fuse and start roaring at him to get dressed. My mother in law appears out of nowhere, her hearing suddenly perfectly restored asking why I was shouting. I gesture at Child#3 and explain that he is meant to be playing the tinwhistle at mass. She says 'Just tell them he is sick'. Oh thanks Mother in Law, now Child#3 won't move at all and suddenly looks like he has been struck down with a virulent virus. My husband and I try to explain to her that he is not sick and that that is not the point anyway. He needs to support the school...my school!
Running out of time, I have to leave, urging Child#2 to put his accordion in the car while shouting at my husband to take the xbox off Child#3 for his mutiny.
My mother in law makes some remark in the car about it being my husband's birthday and that the poor fellla had to listen to shouting. I retort that had he got Child#3 up for mass as advised all this could have been avoided.
We arrive at mass and I step out of the car a changed woman, smiling sweetly at parishiners and gliding up the aisle, I take my place in the choir. I strain my voice trying to out sing the lady beside me. I take brief glances behind me to see when it's time to kneel, sit or stand as I am up the top of the church with only young children to guide me. I always lose track at mass God forgive me so never know what to do. The sign of peace arrives and I awkwardly shake hands with people. I never know who to stop at or will someone be inevitably insulted if I leave them out.
After communion, the children get ready to play their instruments. Child#2 is staring into space. I silently will him to pick up his accordion but he is fascinated by something ahead of him. The tune starts and he hurriedly picks up his accordion trying to find his place. When he does play, he plays well and so I relax again.

My mother in law and Child#2 run into the shop after mass to buy my husband birthday cards. I arrive home just in time to feed the baby. I smile in a concilatory fashion at my husband as it is his birthday after all and tell him I plan to bring him for lunch and do something nice for his birthday today.
Much to my surprise, he explodes that 'he has things to do' and can't be 'swanning off to lunches' and that I shouldn't make plans without consulting him. He then proceeds to rant about 'ye mixing up the rubbish and recycling' and with that he goes to take his leave.
Such was my angry reaction at the time, that I can't rightly remember what I said but I do remember needing  a cup of tea and a bar afterwards.
I feed the baby again and watch a cleaning vlog on you tube to motivate me to tackle the laundry. I fall asleep watching it but wake with renewed vigour. I ask all the kids if they want something to eat before I start into the laundry and they reassure me that they are fine. I go to play my favourite music on Spotify but all I can see are rap songs. Child#1 has taken over my account. I keep scrolling and soon I am folding away to Easy 90s and 00s.
Child#2 comes in screeching that Whiskas the cat has shit in his room and he demands that I clean it. I chase him out telling him to clean it himself as he let the cat in and to wear gloves. Child#3 comes in offering to fold socks...he just wants his xbox back. Child#2 returns shouting at me to go to his Aunt's house to pick up a treadmill. I don't know why he wants the treadmill so much...last time he was on one in physio he flew off the back of it and hit the wall. I disgraced myself by laughing but I am sure the physio thought it was funny too.  Child#3 comes back asking for food. I stop what I am doing and sort them out. I wonder where my husband is. I jealously imagine him driving along in his tractor, the lovely fresh breeze blowing through his hair while I am stuck inside folding clothes.
I do 10 squats while waiting for Child#3's toastie and then I return to Clothes Mountain. Child#2 tells me that Dad is helping a neighbour move silage bales. Of course he is. Meanwhile bins are overflowing here.
I take a bundle of towels down to the main bathroom and whilst there I clean the sink; the toilet; close toothpaste tubes and hang fresh towels. I wash all the toothpaste off the mirror and then return again to the clothes. Child#2 helps carry all the baskets of clothes to the relevant bedrooms. I get a strong smell of Lenor and ask why. It turns out my husband uses my fancy Lenor, the concentrated one, to mop the floor in Child#2's room to get rid of the smell of cat poo. I remind him that we have floor cleaner under the sink but apparently it doesn't smell nice enough.
I put away about 10 baskets of clothes and sort baby clothes that the baby has outgrown. I organise my smalls in the Maria Kondo method. I ring my GP about the baby's cough and feed all the animals.
I realise that I now have to cook as my husband does not want to eat out. I take bolognese out of the freezer, smugly congratulating myself for freezing last week's leftovers. I tell Child#4 that I plan to take him for a cream bun every day this week when he is off school. Child#5 asks him to buy her a bun and take it home to which he screechily responds ' I am not spending ALLmy money on you buying cream buns'.
I serve dinner. Child#1 states that it tastes like it was frozen. I silence him with a stare. My husband holds baby towards me while I try to sort dinner saying 'Here...he needs to be changed'. I tell my husband to kindly change him as I am sorting dinner. Soon I am delighted to hear roars coming from the sitting room. My husband shouts at Child#2 to get baby wipes . Child#2 gets distracted while on route to get said baby wipes. Cue screams...the baby has pooped all over my husband and the couch. Child#3 runs in looking for nappy sacks. Finally, my husband emerges with head tilted and chin jutting out which means he is sulking. I ask in a concerned voice if everything is ok and he doesn't reply.

After the mayhem of dinner, I sneak off upstairs to put the baby to bed. All I hear is the thud thud thud of the treadmill. The boys are fascinated with it. No injuries so far. I must try it out myself later. I have a busy day tomorrow so I plan to have an early night. But first, I need to do more laundry, put kids to bed, sort uniforms for tomorrow and socks; upload Child#1's blood sugars and set my goals and intentions for the week ahead. I need to restart  my 100 days active challenge and healthy eating regime. Anna Saccone is back to her pre pregnancy figure and I am no where near ! I tell my husband that she is probably half the size of me when I hear Child#2 whisper into Child#1's ear 'Try quarter!' Cheeky fecker.
I better go do my chores!
Adieu!