So Marcus Poppins was back for one night only due to high demand a while ago.

After doing five ten hours shifts back in the beginning of this year Mr. Poppins had been hit by a pretty big amount of hubris and thought that spending a Saturday night without any alcohol and two kids for approximately five hours would be an easy piecy thing to do. After all he was pretty convinced that he was the new super nanny.

How wrong was he, huh?

But, re-rewind bo selecta to the actual week I spent with these lovely children of the Devil herself, or Marie as the rest of her friends call her.

In general my days looked all the same starting at 7.30 AM. The mother took the daughter to school before she was heading to her crazy world of fashion and left me with the cutest toddler ever, but cute do not under any circumstances mean low maintains.

One of his most annoying habits was that he was absolutely obsessed with Thomas the Tank Engine. Due to this I was forced to watch this bloody sad crossed-eyed train turf turf around and saving every little confused obstacle in the village he lives in for at least three hours every morning on DVD. As if that wasn’t enough punishment, the boy himself kept on pointing at the TV every other minute and proudly stringed the sentence:

-Tuu tuu!

He then turned his head towards me with a smile and wouldn’t stop starring at me until I replied:

-Yes, tuu tuu.

I am fully aware that whoever came up with the idea of this tedious vehicle didn’t really have my age group in mind to entertain, but I can assure that if he, she or them would ever cross my path here in life they would regret their million making idea for sure.

After watching the only two DVDs staring this plastic train from hell, I had a few more hours to entertain the boy before his afternoon nap. These hours was filled with playing with the toddler and his toys, making lunch for the toddler, refusing the toddler to watch more of Thomas the Tank Engine, cleaning up after the toddler, making sure that the toddler didn’t fall over, bump or walk into something with sharp edges and of course the highlight of the day.....

The true joy of changing nappies!

I mean how the hell can something so small contain so much shit? It was like Nestle had open some sort of an outlet shopping mall up the boy’s crack, and the smell?

Do not even go there!

Surely all you have to do is to dip a cork in some strong after shave and shove it up the smelly source, no?

And it wasn’t that this was a once a day thing, oh no we are talking about 6-10 times daily of this nappy business. I had been informed that after cleaning the boy’s tush and the parts that was covered with the smelly stuff I had to put cream around the pink/ red areas. This would have been dead simple if it isn’t for the fact that babies are pink/ red-ish all over, it’s their natural colour for heaven sake.

When he finally fell asleep for two hours I pored a big mug of very strong coffee, grab the yellow walkie talkie that was connected to the one in the toddler’s room, basically glued it to my ear so I could make sure that the child was actually a sleep, and then I started to pack the so called travel bag.

This bag was filled and stuffed with fruits, nappies, juice, dummies, nappies, raisins, tissues more nappies for the trip to school to pick up the girl. I swear to God by the end of the week I was so paranoid about the toddler to over shit himself during this trip that I basically had a years supply of nappies in the rucksack just in case of and only one raisin in case he was hungry.

After shaking the boy out of his sleep and back to reality, stuff him with some leftovers from the day before it was time to hit the high road.

Now I always thought that most mothers with a baby trolleys on public transport can be quite selfish and plain rude, however after that week I am so on their side fighting for their rights here in society. Cuz people do not move for you to get to that special area in the buss where you can park the damn trolley, which you by the way need a driving licence to be able to handle properly. No matter how many sorry, excuse me, pardons you tell them, they will just stand there looking at you that you have no value at all. So in the end you actually do not have any other choice than push it fast forward whilst huffing and puffing, screaming:

-Move it, just FUCKING move God damn it!!!

Of course you do not wait until they move cuz that will not happen in a million years. No you just keep on pushing, driving over peoples toes and feet, careless if you scratch their fake designers shoes (this was after all in the east end of London) into pieces after all you have a baby to protect.

After collecting the little donna, we headed towards the playground next to the school. Now if something is even worse than changing stinky nappies, it is public playgrounds, cuz all of a sudden you are surrounded by millions of kids screaming, crying, stealing each other’s toys and most important making sure that ones kids do not get trapped in the stupidly designed multi coloured iron climbing facility and strangle themselves to death in one of the thick ropes that is attached to this badly 1970 something designed thing.

This very exhausting scenario takes place at the same time when the rest of the dead bored out foreign female nannies are exchanging make up tips or planing nannies salsa dance nights on a bench far far way in the distance.

This is also the place where you will meet the ex nanny for the first time or in my case the ex nanny that got the sack cuz she was crap.

She was this spiteful woman from Brazil or something who kept on trying really hard to show off big times and kept on saying stuff like:

-Oh when I was their nanny they used to adore me.....when I was their nanny I would never colour co-ordinate their clothes like you have....when I was there nanny we used to make farmer animals with my used tampax!

In the end I was so tired of her bragging and wanted to scream to her:

-If you would just stop pestering "my" kids and turn around to pay attention to you own ugly children you would realise that they are at the moment stomping around in dog shit, you silly girl!

But I was a proud nanny with class, so I just told my children to get into the trolley and off we went.

Back home it was dinner, and despite the fact that I love cooking I had to question myself what do one cook for lactose allergic kids?

Answer....... well rice, rice and then some rice is my answer to that one.

After that it was bath time and pyjamas dressing, and then one hour of Animal Planet to make them near comatose before the mother arrived, praise the lord, by this time I was so exhausted and couldn’t wait to get home to drink myself to unconscious, praying that I would not wake up until it was time to easter decorate my flat.

Even though it was pretty hard work, it did run quite smoothly if I may say so until my last day Friday.

Friday was the day when the girl would finish school earlier and therefor the toddler did not get a nap which mad him of course very tired and to a certain extent somewhat grumpy. As I was preparing the daily travel bag, the boy was playing with something, and I wished that I had been a bit more aware what he was playing with cuz by the time I realised it was too late. The little boy had gone bonkers and open every God damn jigsaw box in the whole house (and believe me this family must have joined the internet site:

http:// www.cheapjigsawforyouand wegiveyoueightthousendpoundsincreditwhenyoujoinus.com

Cuz the place was absolute filled with these evil plastic/wooden pieces) and turned them up side down and spread every piece all over the floor.

I had about five minutes before we had to leave, and trying too dress a child, pack a bag, and sort out about 30 boxes of jigsaw is basically totally impossible even for a super duper nanny like myself, so in the end I just put all the pieces in three boxes and left the rest empty thinking:

Guess the family ain’t gonna play with those for a while.

At this particular Friday the daughter was in a play and therefor she was dressed up in a princess dress made by some tulle and one of those lycra ballerina dresses that you had to squeeze her out of like a sausage with a too tight skin.

The high light after school on Fridays for these kids was to go to something called The Farm, and when I saw this place it explained a lot of things from my early years here in London. See I used to hang at a place calle The White Swan and on my drunken crawls back to our place in Bethnal Green I used to pass this place thinking that I was hallucinating cuz how else could one explain a bunch of cheeps, ducks and a donkey in the middle of a round about?

But that was The Farm......

Now The Farm is some sort of institution for extremely bored housewives who do not get out much according to me. This is the place where they take their children and let them run completely free to pest other bored house wives (or poor male nannies like in my case) whilst they are nibbling away on some home made carrot cake and chatting about their mail order budget for the year very, very loud. Myself must say that I rather change 100 nappies a day than spend another hour there, cuz it is hell.

I sincerely can’t believe that I made it through my two hours visit there without even getting close to go as mental as my biological mother, father and sister combined.

As I was getting my kids ready to leave I asked the daughter if she needed to go to the toilet before we started our trip back home but she assured that she was fine so off we went. As soon as we got to the bus stop she said:

-I need to wee wee.

-Babe I asked you before we left and you said no, okay? I replied.

-But I need to wee wee now.

-No you don’t.

-If I can’t go wee wee I will wee wee in my panties.

-No you are a big girl and big girls do not do that, you need to wait until we get home okay.

Unfortunately all the buses were full so it took ages before we got on one. When we finally got on, the nagging about the pee business continue and if that wasn’t enough the little boy started to cry due to certain circumstances in his under the belt department.

All of a sudden the girl says:

-He has been doing a poo poo, yuck, yuck!

-Hmm yea well I guessed that, actually I think the whole bus knows that by now, I replied somewhat irritated and tired.

To make the whole situation worse I went on the wrong bus as we were changing, and off we went to the complete other direction. I had no other choice than get off the bus run over the street to catch a bus back to the beginning of our journey, and on top of that it started to rain. So there I was with one kid crying cuz she needed a piss, one toddler who screamed cuz he was very uncomfortable due to his shitty business in his nappies whilst the rain was poring down. And all I could think about was:

How the hell could I end up in a situation like this, all I wanted as a kid was to become a well known fashion designer!

About 45 minutes later I finally put the key into the door at their home, told the girl to run to the toilet whilst I carried the boy into the living room to undress him and change his nappy. When I finally got the nappies off I was faced with something looked like a pink canvas painted with all sort of different shades of brown oil paint.

As I started to clean up the mess I all of a sudden heard:

-Yiiiaaaaaaaa whoooa.

It was the girl who screamed so loud like she had been faced by some evil living version of My Little Pony or something so I had no choice than leave Mr. "I-am-leaking-with-smelly-stuff" and run into the bathroom just to realize that the poor girl could not get off her little ballerina spandex jump suit and just like that infront of me started to piss right through it. Sprinkling her urine like an upside down fountain, sobbing away hysterically cuz she was so ashamed. I just stood there not knowing what to do and because the toddler in the other room was screaming like he had his balls chopped off and I knew that I needed to get control of the situation I just said;

-Don’t worry, I do the same thing all the time.

She dried her tears and looked at me somewhat confused and said:

-You do?

-Oh yea all the time I just wee wee through my jeans constantly, can’t really control myself wee wee all day through Marcus does, I replied whilst I was trying my hardest to keep myself as sane as I could.

I hushed her, dried her tears, got her undressed, ran a bath and told her to get into it, grabbed her very wet outfit ran into the living room, threw them in the kitchen sink to finish of the cleaning of the toddler who by now had turned tomato red due to all his screaming and crying, not to mention that thanks to all his frenetic shaking and kicking had made his poo re-decorating the carpet around him. As I was getting the situation somewhat under control, I yet again was interrupted by:

-Yiiiaaaaaaaa whoooa.

So off I ran into the bathroom again with the feeling that a minor heart attack was knocking on the front door, just to find the girl having a dump in the bathtub. She was just standing there crying with like five small pretty little floaters of shit around her legs. It looked like some dinghy competition for very tiny people. So yet again (this time hearing that my voice was getting somewhat high pitch) I said:

-Oh don’t worry Marcus do this every day, I just poo poo every where.

-You do, she replied even more confused than she was about my wee wee story.

-Oh yea constantly, can’t stop myself, Poo Poo Marcus they call me!

However the reality was that I was by now convinced that this little scenario would be the one that would actually award me with that VIP ticket to insanity!

After all the wee and poo cleaning up I made them some dinner and sat down and waited for their baby sitter for the night to come so I could go back to my more sane life style.

As I was leaving the kids was standing in the door, and even after I got around the corner from their home I could still hear them go:

-Bye bye Marcus, bye bye

I would lie if I would say I wasn’t extremely touched but at the same time couldn’t wait to get home and I thought to myself:

Thank God for redundancy package and cocaine!
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