Four seasons in one day...

There's an ad in circulation at the moment for some hair or make-up product encouraging us to 'be a different girl every day' or something like that. Well, the copy writers for this should try being a mum. Forget being a different woman every day; it's my experience that you get to be a different mother every hour - at least...

For example, today I have been (in no particular order);

Knackered Mummy - when I woke up this morning after a fitful night of bad dreams involving spiders, crocodiles and missing Boys. Yes, you guessed it, I was dreaming of our forthcoming trip to Australia. Remind me again why we're willingly going to a country which 90% of the world's deadliest creatures call home?

Efficient Mummy - on my solo trip to the supermarket. What normally takes 45 mins to an hour when accompanied by the Boys was polished off in 25 minutes this morning. You could hardly see the trolley wheels as they whirred along the aisles. I dashed from one section to the next, remembering what I needed, finding it in double-quick time, and getting out of there so quickly that the till assistant barely had time to ask if I wanted to take the school vouchers. This morning's visit was at light speed compared to our normal progress round the store. This usually involves frequent stops to check the list due to failing memory (which I blame on the constant distractions of dealing with runny noses, requests for 'CAKE!', and the necessary passing of all purchases to Boy #1 so that he can put them in the trolley), and the compulsory stop at Starbucks to 'reward' (for which read 'bribe') the Boys for good behaviour with a chocolate coin. (And a skinny hot chocolate for me. Obviously).

Proud Mummy - when Boy #2 used his scooter for the first time on the way to the bakers a little later. Never mind that he walked rather than rode most of the way; he was simply as pleased as punch that he was not sitting in the buggy. He strutted importantly along the pavement, narrowly avoiding walking into walls and hedges, his tummy puffed out with pride. I imagine that I looked somewhat similar...

Frustrated Mummy - when Boy #1 decided he could scoot and eat bread at the same time, only to spend the next 5 minutes falling flat on his face as he discovered that - actually - he couldn't. (Must admit I was also - initially - Amused Mummy at the look of shock on his face when he pulled himself up from the pavement, piece of bread still intact and stuffed in his mouth, looking around indignantly as if to say; 'Who did that? It couldn't possibly have been MY fault...')

Push-over Mummy - when I found the Boys bouncing on our bed and instead of ordering them off it immediately, gave in to the sound of their delighted laughter and giggles and gave them 2 minutes more before getting off. And then another 2 minutes...

Creative Mummy - when I got the paints out for Boy #2 and helped Boy #1 make himself a mask out of biscuit packet, some tin-foil, string and glitter.

Resigned Mummy - when I found then myself covered in glue, glitter, and paint. And why is it that the activities take 20 minutes and the clearing up around 40?

Unsurprised Mummy - when Boy #2 needed a complete change of clothes after lunch due to over-enthusiastic spoon action with the soup.

And Slightly Embarrassed and hoping I wasn't spotted Mummy - when I realised after lunch that I had gone to the bakers with glitter and paint in my hair like some 80's throw-back...