Nuclear explosions Toxic spillages and so forth

So I stayed up past my bedtime last night. Cuddled on the sofa watching crappy tv. God I wish I had gone to bed early. Really struggled to wake up this morning. Went through to baby's room. It hit me. The pong. He however was oblivious sat in his cot gurgling and chewing his cuddly. I lift him up at arms length. Shit! Literally everywhere. A toxic leak a nuclear explosion call it what you will. It was bloody everywhere. First things first. A fishwife yell brings eldest son running to see what the commotion is about it. Even he blanched as he entered the room of doom. Open a window quick I mumble whilst trying not to breath.

How to get a shit covered vest off a wriggling child is one of life's great conundrums. Now I cannot employ hubby's method as I nearly combusted with outrage when I saw his answer a few weeks back. Hubby tackles this problem by snatching the scissors and cutting the baby out of his soiled garments.

I decide to mop up as much excess as possible with baby wipes. Then stretch the vest to its limits to take it off over the head. Result - a baby streaked in excrement from nappy to nose. A quick wipe of the really bad bits and a jog with smelly one at arms length to the bathroom. Shower on baby dangled in stream of water. Jobs a good un. Well apart from Stinky is now outraged and screaming loud enough to be heard in the southern hemisphere.

I bundle screaming baby in a towel and dry him all the time aware that its 7 am and the noise level is rising. I resort to bribery nappy on biscuit in mouth silence. I pay my 9 year old to strip the shitty cot whilst I go rouse the other boys.

Connor and Kieron have pillows over there heads. Connor mumbles about the noise but with the promise of jam on toast leaps from bed. Kieron however does not move. I prize the pillow off his head. Deathly white face peers back. Mummy I feel sick whimpers the bed ridden one. Oh bloody great I think. I have a meeting with the head teacher at 9 and a parent teacher conference at 9.20. I also have a mound of shitty bedding to sort out. My patience is wearing thin so I march out then back again with a bowl and a glass of water. If you vomit make sure you hit the bowl I mutter. Then I am attacked by guilt as a result of my appalling bedside manner so spend all of 20 seconds stroking his cheek and frantically mumbling soothing things.

Back to the stinky baby who left to his own devices has de nappied himself and weed on the kitchen floor. Dan my eldest takes charge and starts ordering Connor to get washed and dressed. He passes me the disinfectant and I stare in awe at him until he barks "the floor mum" onto the knees and a half hearted mop up. Get baby dressed in record time maybe he senses I am a women on the edge because he lays still and it all goes smoothly.

I am now sat here drinking the coffee my Boy made me. Its 8.20am I want to go back to bed.