The Morning From Hell, Cub Camp Meltdowns & Other Stories

The lead up to this weekend was one of much excitement but also a little trepidation, not on my part I might add, as my eldest and I prepared him for his first Cub camp. A whole night under the stars with his friends – ‘What could go wrong?’ I ask him as his wee bottom lip quivers ‘I’ll miss you all too much though’ he sobs as I gaze into his beautiful grey eyes and earnest wee face. ‘Now, don’t be silly it’s only one night’ I do my best I’M FINE voice and smile ‘ Besides, I have hidden a midnight feast in your bag so you’ll need to find it when you get there and share it with your tent pals’. See, chocolate solves all issues.

So Friday came and his bag (which happens to be the same size as him) is all packed, everything has his name on it and the list has been checked and double checked – for the benefit of those who know me well I can honestly say the task was completed without a spreadsheet! Imagine that!

Bedtime came too quickly last night, a few more hugs than normal and a few questions about ‘being prepared’. Wee N Meltdown No 1. What can I say son, it may scar you for life, you won’t sleep much, you probably wont brush your teeth and you’ll come home in the same pants you went away in, I say to myself. Adding further to that monologue – I’ll see you on Sunday as you melt down on the way home and I resort to good old-fashioned ‘bath and bed for you my boy’ chat. Have fun my gorgeous wee boy. Sob. Smile.

Anyway, let’s just say today started off a little bit differently from the Saturday morning I had planned. If I wasn’t slightly anxious anyway, we get a present from the cats. At 6am. Squawking coming from the sitting room – not a good sign.

I was having one of those dreams where I thought the noise was coming from within my consciousness rather than the cat and bird chase that was currently going on down stairs.

It all came to a head when the kids had ventured downstairs, having been woken up by the impromptu party happening below, their screams of terror as they ran back upstairs meant that the cats were indeed slamming tequila and cutting some shapes with their unfortunate prey – Wee N Meltdown No 2.

I should have known what to expect as the trail of feathers from the hall into the sitting room provided clues to the inevitable carnage. However, there was no rainbow for me to jump into, no pot of gold to claim at the end, just the biggest bird I have EVER seen perched on my curtain rod, glaring at me and the two petulant felines licking their lips below its stance.

I have to admit I am kind of used to it now but the cat surprises are normally dead by the time I have found them, usually followed by a curl of the tail round my legs in acknowledgement of how fantastic they are for bringing this thing of beauty to my attention. Jog on kitty.

So, I ponder the flying machine that has now taken over my house and promptly close the door. I turn round to find the boys peering at me through clasped hands and asking if it’s safe to go in. No, my wee loves, it’s not.

We hatch a plan, true military style but without the scrambling along the ground part and head into the zone. We reach the kitchen safely and high-five all around. So easily pleased at that time in the morning. In the smallest kitchen in the world we eat our cereal listening to the bumps, meows and calamity that is ensuing next door.

Part two of our plan goes well and we are in the safe-haven of our bedrooms in record timing as we get ready for the day ahead. I step in the shower as the boys get on with the task in hand. Five minutes later Wee C is running up the stairs screaming his head off – Mum! Mum! I have bird poo on my face. As you can imagine a mother’s job at that precise moment is to save her flapping son from the evil poo and march downstairs to face the enemy once and for all but no, what do I do? I laugh. Not just a little snigger that you try to hide but a great big belly laugh that I just can’t keep in. Needless to say I am not winning Mother of the Year Award this morning.

Hilarity over, poo-free face on Wee C and very smart cub uniform on Wee N, we are on track for Cub camp. Until…

I stupidly say that since we can’t get access to our lair downstairs, why don’t you have a little shot on your computer while I finish getting ready? Great idea Mum, you’re the best. Yeah, I know guys, stop it. OK well maybe not quite like that but you know what I mean.

I get ready and enter the hovel also known as Wee N’s bedroom. Right guys, ready? Quivery lip ensues and warbled message of woe spills out completely throwing me and my jovial demeanour. Wee N meltdown No 3. Not being as geeky as the two wee men & their dad, I am not particularly concerned about it but apparently the world has indeed just ended as ‘I JUST LOST 3 LEVELS AND I FORGOT TO SAVE IT AND NOW I WILL HAVE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN’ fills the room. I sigh and give out hugs. I do the best thing I can do and say ‘Don’t worry, your Dad will sort it out for you’ meanwhile I take a mental note to get said Dad to do that otherwise it will not be pretty when the Cub Camp Champ returns.

So, I am positive that nothing else can possibly go wrong now, I’m sure that my three lives have been well used up but there you go, proven wrong again by the powers that be.

We collect all the bags and leave the cat ravers and their new toy in the sitting room and we head for the exit of our humble abode. Wee N meltdown No 4 , ‘I can’t go Mum.’ ‘OK, what’s up?’ I ask. ‘I haven’t practised carrying my bag enough’. I stifle a giggle as Wee C does not help the situation at all by laughing uncontrollably at his big brother. Bless his wee cottons is all I can think of, well that and the large, cold glass of Sauv Blanc that I will be needing by Noon if this day carries on the way it’s going.

And all this before 8am.

So, how was your morning?