Home Office Hell

Yesterday, was day two at home with my children while trying to work. They are not in school this week which has caused me to have to operate from my home office. Normally, I would welcome the ability to have conference calls in my pajamas but not this time.

They.are.driving.me.crazy.

Olivia has a magical Hallowe'en bucket. It appears to replenish itself. I'm finding candy wrappers all over the house: under beds, stuffed beside the cushions of furniture, tucked away under clothes in her drawers- EVERYWHERE. She still has not made the cerebral connection between mass quantities of candy and a bad belly so I had to take the bucket away yesterday which resulted in her repeatedly throwing herself on the floor. She hasn't done that since she was two. After that episode was finished, she was understandably drained and asked if I would help her find some mind numbing cartoons. I gave in and let Nickelodeon babysit.

Then, Dylan and two of his friends slammed into the house and banged up the stairs where they proceeded to play "Guitar Hero" loud enough to make my molars ache. I usually try to be that cool mum who has refreshments available and favoured snacks on hand because I want the neighbourhood kids to hang at my house where I can make sure that they're not snorting too many lines. But yesterday, I couldn't take the cacophony one second longer. I was working on cost sheets and after hearing "Smoke On The Water" FIVE HUNDRED TIMES, the numbers were swimming on my computer screen. I had to throw the boys out. "But we're thirsty," my son complained. "There's a hose on the side of the house," I replied, while fastening the dead bolt.

By the end of the day, I was grateful to get in the shower. Friends of mine had invited me out to dinner and the thought of adult conversation and alcohol of any kind was beyond appealing. I practically skipped out to my car.

Once inside, I turned on the iPod, jacked up volume, opened the garage door and

PROCEEDED TO SLAM INTO MY BABYSITTER'S CAR,

which was parked in the driveway.

Well, shit.

Today, I get to go into my real office. With a receptionist. And relative quiet. And no SpongeBob, no kitten high on catnip, no pre-adolescents making fart sounds with their underarms, no bag of popcorn being set on fire in the microwave, no tantrums, no wrestling, no "Mummy! Can you PLEASE wipe my bottom!".....

I've never been more grateful to walk into my 100 square feet of occupational bliss.