I am sitting on the stairs.
DS(3) is prancing about in the bathroom, on his third attempt to do a poo. Due to potty training incompetence he still does this in a nappy so every call for a poo requires a trip upstairs, all clothes off, nappy on, then usually a fart.
DD (9weeks) is downstairs on her mat winding up for the evening wail.
The laundry is breeding.
The table is festooned with rejected food from breakfast and supper.
The dishwasher is still full from last night.
DH is about to arrive in soaking wet cycling kit and distribute it all over the fucking house. Then ask what's for supper. And regale me with interesting stories about the world outside these walls.
Gah. I want my old life back!