Epic Fail

I woke up to a house looking like it’d been burgled

Until realisation suddenly dawned on me;

My family was guilty so I couldn’t have them arrested,

However satisfying that would be.

Through half-open eyes I surveyed the scene,

Piles of dirty clothes leaving a festering trail;

I groaned as my dream of finding matching socks

Slowly withered and died; what an epic fail.

I slunk into the shower ignoring the shouts

Of my kids threatening to throttle each other.

Not able to function until caffeine kicked in

I opted for coffee over being a good mother.

I fought through wet towels littering the floor, dodged

Kerplunk cupboards and lived to tell the tale,

I was shocked to find clean jeans in my wardrobe

…but a greasy stain on my jumper; what an epic fail.

I ran up and down like a blue-arsed fly

whilst my four-year old practised his ‘reading rockets’,

Cursing whilst removing clothing from the machine

that had tissues still stuck in the pockets.

I searched for our coats by torchlight under the stairs

like bargain-hunting in some dodgy jumble sale.

Then I nooked toddler’s Weetabix in the microwave

and he scalded his mouth; what an epic fail.

I yelled like a banshee whilst drying my hair

for the boys to eat their breakfast (amongst other rants)

Until my eldest practised his skills as a stunt double

and spilt Rice Krispies right down his pants.

It was then I discovered there were no other trousers,

only those in the wash growing increasingly stale.

I happened upon last year’s and felt ecstatic

…until I saw the holes and trailing hems; what an epic fail.

With everyone dressed I shoved toddler’s arms into his coat

before his last mouthful he’d swallowed;

Then baby wiped his face and pushed him out the door;

an almighty tantrum was what followed.

Finally placated, he got out his balance bike

but when he came to sit down he emitted a wail;

It had been raining and the soaking wet seat made him

look like he’d peed his pants; what an epic fail.

We made our painfully slow way up to school,

with a howling, protesting toddler to drag,

With my dulcet tones ringing out clearly

For everyone to hear, just like a fishwife hag.

Despite toothpaste stained jumpers and

shortness of breath making it difficult to inhale,

We reached school in a rush and kissed goodbye

…just as the gates clanged shut; what an epic fail.

My eldest son, becoming increasing skilful

at making me feel completely and utterly inept

Threw a disappointed glance over his shoulder and

A woeful kind of look as through reception he crept.

I shouted after that I loved him which

probably embarrassed him on a grand scale

…then stopped to mop toddler’s snot with a tissue

Of dubious colour and age; what an epic fail.