I don't really know how to describe today. With all factors considered (boring details, really) it should have been a disaster. I'd had little sleep, little to no motivation to do anything and, as ever, Roman tipped all of his toys out on the living room floor. He was extra huggy resulting in me having to lose an arm as I vacuumed and held him - 2 stone of toddler and doing my housework was never something I saw for myself in my future ;).
I made a decision during the hours of 1-2am (1-2am because I'm not sure what time it was, I just couldn't sleep and the stereo snoring from my husband and neighbour didn't help) and that decision was to get this house in order; to have a pathway free of toys and books, to have an empty washing basket, to have a vacuumed hall. Once these tasks were done I'd have reached my nirvana. I forgot one factor in all this; Roman. He either loves to 'help' - which effectively means I have to let him imitate whatever I'm doing, not get annoyed he's making more work for me and cheer on the sidelines once he completes a task - or wants 'cuddle!' because he's scared of our Vax.
Then, as I was bleaching the hell out of my oven door, he came padding through to see why I was gone for more than a minute. "Don't touch this," I told him. I told him again because I don't want to deal with a toddler who attempts to eat a concoction of neat bleach and grease. I realised I hadn't needed to tell him twice, or even once, he already knew. "Clean it, mummy!" he cheered me on as the steel wool met the glass on the oven door. And once I had completed my task? Well there came the praise for my good work; "All done! Good boy, mummy."