When did balloons get so loud?

I think a good measuring test for tiredness/extreme irritability is to rub a balloon on a wall near your head and see how loud it sounds. I never knew a balloon could be so loud. Gracie trotted into my room this morning at 6.12am and then trotted out, to fetch her balloon (thank you, Head over Heels). As I lay there, discombobulated but determining to try and wake up - and even put the lamp on to get a board book and use the time to bond with my tinies - I started to realise how aggravated my nerves were and wondered why I was feeling so irritated. Then I realised: there was this really noisy, relentless noise near my left ear. It was Grace rubbing the balloon up and down the wall near my pillow. And along the duvet. When did balloons get so loud? All noises are magnified when sleep reserves are low, it seems. Yet more evidence that sleep deprivation is an effective form of torture.

Then the demands for going downstairs for breakfast started. I just wanted to stay curled up in bed, in a silent room. I felt the yearning for physical space growing inside me (can I just have 5 minutes? is the internal voice that screams loudly and bitterly). Solitude, Solitude, Solitude... how attractive You are.

So we got downstairs. Isaac was cranking. Clearly he hadn't had enough sleep or personal space either. He wouldn't go in his high chair. I denied Grace the Rice Krispies she wanted for breakfast - Battle Number 1 for the day. I poured her Shreddies. She said she didn't want milk on them. I ignored that. I was pretty hungry myself and sat down to eat mine. Then it started. Grace dropped one and the crying ensued. 'Mummy, I've dropped a Shreddie. I want an EXTRA one. Give me an EXTRA one.' I have to confess, I couldn't take it. I grabbed the crying Isaac, grabbed my Shreddies and bolted into the lounge. Then I went back and childishly grabbed an extra Shreddie and hurled it into Gracie's cereal bowl. Oh dear. 

I had to go back and apologise to her. Another moment in Parenting of which I am not proud.

I blame National Rail for cancelling the later morning train and forcing me to do breakfast routine on my own. Perhaps I should have showered at 6.20am and (if you've read my earlier posts you'll know what I'm talking about), I would have been a different woman, a woman with shoes on... empowered, cheerful, and ready to take on the world. Well, toddlers anyway.