Music saves my life

Feeling like you're going slightly mad when looking after two children under the age of 3 is probably a very common state of mind for many a mother. The intensity of emotion that comes with having two small human beings swinging from my limbs is something I could never have imagined prior to landing on planet motherhood.
In the olden days, as a single gal about town, time to myself would be classified as a weekend away with girlfriends at a luxury spa. Nowadays, I get the same sense of satisfaction if I manage to go to the toilet on my own, without a child wanting to sit on my lap.
The most challenging time in my day has to be from about 5pm when little tummies are hungry, bodies are smeared with all manner of dirt and everyone is tired and tetchy. Books call this time the "witching hour".
As I'm a bit hit or miss in the cooking organisation department, I tend not to have a "here's one I made earlier" dinner dish*, so I end up scurrying around the kitchen, wailing baby on hip, trying to gather something together that resembles a reasonably healthy meal...or at least a meal that won't give the children scurvy.
Once I've successfully cooked, fed, cleaned up, ran bath, undressed children, put children in bath, got soaked, put self in bath with children, washed, taken children and self out of bath, dried, found pyjamas, mopped up wee from floor, held down struggling baby whilst putting on nappy, argued about what pyjamas 3 year old wants to wear, given in, put own pyjamas onto 3 year old finally, finally, finally I carry clean, happy and relatively peaceful children in to the sitting room.
Now It's time. It's time for a boogie. It's time to put on the stereo really loudly. It's time to listen to some "illicit language" rap music. It's time to shake. Shake it out. Shake that booty. Shake it round. Shake it fast. Shake it like there's no tomorrow. Shake it like you cannot wait for another 5pm witching hour. Shake it hard. Shake it and watch your children watching you like you are the queen of shaking it, before joining in. Suddenly you have a shaking party, you're all going wild, hair's all over the place, you're all singing, laughing, shaking it, really going for it and dancing around the entire sitting room. The heat rises, you open the balcony door and continue the shaking right beside the open window. The music stops. You look down. You're naked. You forgot to put on your pyjamas after the bath. This is a recurring theme.
Whatever. Music saves my life.


*When I do have a "here's one I made earlier" dinner dish I feel smug as f***