Museum

As both eldest are off school today for teachers training, I have planned an exciting trip to London’s natural history museum. This is cultured, educational, interesting and maybe even something to boast about. Yes me, the one who finds co coordinating a journey to central croydon with one child a mission has decided that single handedly I will educated and stimulate my little angels with something greater than the local park today. Then to return home before rush hour with plenty time to cook for the man before his arrival home. Perfect plans for perfect day.
Now please bear in mind that in my previous life I did commute though rush hour on a daily bases therefore consider myself a pro. Three kids London return no probs.
I leave East Croydon prepared, calm and even maybe enjoying the company of these little people.
On arrival at Victoria I soon realise that I may have underestimated the difficultly that would be presented to me -a load of big fat dirty stairs. Well of course these things had not been an issue in my previous career as I skipped and hopped my way to work up and down them. I could now see that baby in pushchair would not be partaking in this pastime with me, suddenly I remembered falling out with them during the last few months of my pregnancy and often cursing them one by one wrenching my lump of a bump amongst them. While this all flashes though my mind I smile at the passing commuters as though I am completely in controlled just composing myself in all my yumminess ( made special effort with make up this morn! Trendy chic is today’s look )
After a fair bit of sweat and clenching teeth we mount the circle line and thankfully arrive at south ken unscathed. Children are still finding whole thing a huge adventure but are becoming concerned with mummy’s strange noises and sweat patches. Not to worry the museum is in sight. As we walk up to the main entrance I smugly laugh at all those parents that would be dragging their kids up here next week during the chaos of half term, there is a straight walk to the entrance no quos, no agro, I have struck gold.
After two long hours I manage to prize my big ones (kids) away from the stuffed ferrets to retreat to a café for lunch. On arrival to our table I finally see the first mirror mounting the opposite wall since applying my trendy/chic make up, I laugh at the reflection believing some other monster must be walking behind me, only to realise the stinking refection would actually be me. From the pushchair escapade earlier my sopistacat look sadly was more on my neck than my face and the well ghd’ed locks now resembled the “dragged though bush backwards look” only without the twigs or trend. The children chow down while I attempt to recreate some sort of normal composure.
Amazingly we make it home in one piece, me vowing to offload smallest and pushchair elsewhere on future adventures. We find The Man leaning sadly into the fridge looking at watch puzzled as to where dinner plate may lie. Acknowledging our arrival his eyebrows raise two inches only to attempt to return to normal on seeing my interesting facial collage. I can see the urge in him to ask about dinner but the fear of sending me over edge as a result preventing the words exiting, instead offers of fish and chips. Gold Star to The Man Yummy.