(Inspired by a true story. Seriously, this was my day yesterday)

…..

Helga lay facedown on the bed bawling. This had been the worst day of her life! Ever! She swore it was true.

…

The day had started fine. She kissed her husband good-bye, the kids were in the living room watching TV and eating toast. Great! This would give her a chance to clean up the kitchen; wash dishes, sweep and mop. But first, to go over the kids rooms.

Neither had opened their cutains, so she did. Her eldest ones room? Fine. Her youngest ones? Not so fine. Reaching over to open his curtains she felt something squish between her toes.

"What the fu-" Poo. On her foot. She looked over to see her lovely son had taken off his nappy and then walked around pooing everywhere. He hadn't even stopped. And she had stood in some of it.

"Oh, God," she moaned hoping out of the room and into the bathroom. She pulled off the chunk still stuck to her foot with toilet paper and dropped it in the toilet, then washed her foot off under the faucet of the bath. Once it was clean and dried she left and went into the kitchen.

A whole loaf of bread was all over the floor, with obvious bite marks. Peanut butter was smeared on some, but the bread had broken and the knife was left on the floor.

"You can't be serious!" she yelled. She heard giggling coming from the living room, but decided to concentrate on this mess first.

Once that was done she checked on the boys who were watching cartoons. Dishes time!

Half-way through the dishes she heard a glass break. Rushing into the living room she saw her eldest sitting there staring at the broken glass.

"I didn't do it!" were the first words out of his mouth. Then he took off, his little brother trying to copy what he said as he followed.

Helga sighed and went and grabbed the broom to sweep it up, then the brush and pan set., and vaccume cleaner. She swept it up with the broom, then the brush and pan, then went over with the vaccume cleaner. Damn wooden floors! Damn Arnold for wanting to get new carpet in, but it not arriving yet! Bending down to get under the couch she felt a sharp pain in her knee.

"Fuuuuu!" she cried, looking down. Blood was gushing through her jeans. She carefully extracted the piece of glass she had missed. Even more blood gushed out. "Fuu!"

She went into the kitchen and grabbed a tea towel and sat down, holding it over her knee to help the bleeding stop.

"Mommy wipe my bum!" she heard.

Crap. They were in the bathroom! Alone! This could not end well. Getting up and making her way through the lounge she cursed and fell on the couch. She'd missed a piece of glass. But that was alright, because her heel had picked it up. She growled, and took it out. Now her knee AND her foot were bleeding. Not even on the same side.

"Mommy! Wiiiipe my buuuuuuuuuuum!" she heard once again. Sighing and getting up she followed the giggles and laughs to the bathroom, a feeling of dread coming over her. Two boy laughing in the bathroom was never a good sign. Especially her boys.

"What the hell Phillip!?" she yelled upon seeing what he had done. A new, but empty packet of baby wipes were on the floor next to the toilet. Looking in she saw they were in the toilet, along with a whole roll of toilet paper, two toilet paper rolls, and a sheet of stickers? What the hell? No way was any of this going to flush down. She sighed and looked in the drawers for gloves. She was going to have to remove some of it. None of it had poo on it though.

She found three gloves. All right handed.

"Where are the left handed ones?" she asked aloud. Sighing she resigned herself to the fact that she would need to use her right hand. This would be interesting considering habit.

Digging out all the wipes and toilet paper and cardboard rolls, the sticker sheet, she finally found the poo and . . . a rotten apple? Where the heck had they found a rotten apple and what was it doing in the toilet. Helga gagged. She'd disturbed the poo. But she had to get the apple out if she wanted to flush the toilet.

Grabbing it, it fell apart in her gloved hand. She looked up to see the toilet brush . . .

Grabbing it she mushed the poo and rotten apple together until it just looked like some horrible gross vomity mess, then she put some toilet paper in and flushed.

Smiling she closed up the bag full of wipes and rolls and sticker sheet and took it out to throw into the bin. Finally coming back inside she screamed.

The couch had peanut butter and toast crumbs over it, the cushions were on the floor, toast was all over the floor and juice was everywhere! The TV was blank.

"Mum I'm hungry!" SPLASH.

"Oh, no! My kitchen!" she yelled, running in and slipping over immediately in the milk. It was everywhere. "Ow ow ow!"

Her ankle. Oh, god, it hurt!

"Phillip get mommy the phone," she told him.

"No, I'm hungry!" he yelled at her.

"I don't flipping care, get me the goddamn phone. No!" she screamed at him. Instead he just walked out and left her sitting there in the milk.

"Your mean, mommy," he said.

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!"

Then she heard her youngest start to cry. She turned to see him howling because of her scream. He made his way towards her but slipped over too, hitting his head on the floor which made him scream even more. Helga crawled over to him and gave him a cuddle.

"It's okay, honey," she said, lifting him into her lap. He immediately started to pull at her top looking for boob. She'd only just managed to wean him off a month ago, at eighteen months. No way was he going to start this again.

The phone rang a couple of times, but she couldn't get to it, between her ankle and Robert in her lap. She started to cry then. After twenty minutes Robert got up and grabbed the phone.

"Ta for mommy," she said. "I'll call daddy if you give it to me."

"Daddy," he said coming back over and giving her the phone.

She quickly dialled Arnold's number and waited for him to answer.

"Hello?"

"My ankle is broken," she said.

"What? How did you break your ankle?" he asked. "I'll be home in a little bit, just stay where you are."

Helga laughed. She didn't think she would be going far.

"Daddy!" Robert screamed into the phone.

"Daddy's coming home," she told him, reaching out for him.

"No!" he yelled at her. "Smack smack!"

With that he took off.

"Ungrateful little urchins," she muttered. "No wonder my mom drank!"

Ten minutes later Arnold was by her side.

"Jesus, Helga, what happened to the house?" he asked, scooping her up in his arms and taking her out to the car.

"On the way," she gasped. God it hurt!

She sat waiting while Arnold got the kids together and strapped them into the car, then hopped in and took her to A&E.

…..

Helga's sister came to pick the kids up while she got a cast put on her ankle. She had broken it. Arnold stayed with her the whole time, holding her hand, kissing her cheek and mumbling to her.

She wanted to whack him. Hard.

Finally she was given crutches and a lesson on using them then sent out the door.

"So what happened today?" Arnold finally asked.

Helga told him everything. Every little detail.

He pulled into a McDonalds and they got dinner, then made their way home.

"I'm sorry, Helga," he said.

When they got home he took her up to bed and then went down to sort out the kids. Being alone she started to cry, the bawl.

What a horrible, horrible day! She couldn't wait for it to end!

"Hey, don't cry, I'm home tomorrow," Arnold said, sitting down on the bed and rubbing her back.

""Arnold, it's only the first day of a two week vacation!" she shouted at him. "The first day! And look what happened. Look! How are we going to survive?"

Arnold just gave her a smile.

"Babysitters."