Wednesday, 7 November 2012

Sucking it up and a really stroppy madam

Hello there. I'm feeling a bit better about life after a bleak yesterday. I know I have so, so much to be grateful for and am lucky to be in the position I am: my body (just about) works; I have a beautiful, funny little girl; a kind, loving husband; fantastic friends and family; a roof over my head and warm food in my stomach. I have terrible moments of despair about what my life has become, but I am responsible for these changes. If I don't like it, I'm in the fortunate position of being able to change it (where many aren't). I need to suck it up, get my head down and work harder to be where I want to be. That's the reality, isn't it? You'll have to forgive me if I dip occasionally. That's what trying to discourage a lively toddler from eating sand and licking plug sockets does to you on a daily basis.

My change of mood was partly caused by daughter telling husband that 'Mummy do a stinky farp' last night before her bedtime (I'd obviously like to point out that I didn't). I laughed for about an hour. So, today...

6.45 a.m. Husband's alarm goes off. He gets up to get in shower and I cross my fingers that daughter will give me an extra 15 minutes or so. As husband slams bathroom door daughter shouts 'Muuuummmeee!!'. Pfft. Right. I get up, stick on my dressing gown and lumber in to her. She's bouncing around like a loon, so I take her out of her bag and get her our of the cot. Kisses and tickles are had before I lie her down on the changing mat to whip off her nappy, clean her up and stick on a clean one. I distract with her clown music box, which works at first and then drives her spare because she isn't strong enough to wind it up herself *sigh*. She runs in to husband and tells him this, peppered with her own particular brand of gibberish.

7.15 a.m. Husband takes over baby wrangling and I get in the shower. I stand under the erratic shower head and let the hot....no, cold...no, hot water pour over me. I hear screaming downstairs and find a few extra knots in my hair to sort out.

8.00 a.m. I'm out of the shower and have finished brushing my teeth when husband and daughter come ricocheting up the stairs. 'Daddy do a poo poo!!'. Husband needs the toilet and so daughter is back in my care. He shuts the bathroom door and she reacts like someone's just murdered Iggle Piggle. I do my best to calm her down and distract her, but she's having none of it. Thankfully husband moves quickly (as it were) and reappears, much to daughter's delight. Husband finishes getting ready (whilst getting daughter to brush her teeth) and leaves for work. 'Daddy work a choo choo train!! BYE!!'. Leaving to go to work for the day is fine, but having 10 minutes for a poo on ones own is absolutely not it seems.

8.00 - 9.30 a.m. This part of the day is always a bit of a blur. It involves me wrestling clothes on daughter in various stages and swearing under my breath. Today she desperately wants to go downstairs for her water, so I take her down. She point blank refuses to come back up with me. I have a feeling today will involve a fair few fights, so (ding ding ding bad mother alert!!) I leave her in the lounge with the stair gate at the bottom of the stairs and the one on the kitchen door firmly locked. I dress quickly, stick on some make up and go back down to her. She's still in one piece, haring around the lounge. Phew. Regardless of the ambitions in my life, one of them is not to appear on the front pages of the Daily Mail *spit* as an errant mother (which I obviously am).

I whip off her pyjama's - 'NO Mummy!!' - and stick clean clothes on her - 'NO Mummy!!'. I manage to convince her to sit on my lap so that I can smear hydrous ointment on her legs and then stick on her tights and shoes, before she wipes the vile stuff over all the soft furnishings in the vicinity. I finally brush her hair - 'NO MUMMY!!'. I make her toast, warm up my ghostly, lumpen porridge in the microwave, and make a cup of tea. I can feel the glamour radiating off me. We both eat.

Daughter: 'Hot Mummy!! Hot!!'

Me: 'Yes, the tea is hot darling.'

Daughter: ARRRRRGGGHHHHHH WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH MUUUUUUUUMMMMEEEEEE!!

She doesn't touch the cup of frigging tea. She's merely upset by the thought that it is hot. I don't actually know how to comfort her about something she hasn't done, BUT IS JUST IMAGINING. It's not even 10 a.m. and my head is done in already. I calm her down with cuddles and 'Charlie and Lola' on my phone.

10.00 a.m. I sort out her snacks, water, nappies and other such guff in my great big, un-sexy, gaudy, wipe-able bag. I stick our coats on, convince her to get in to her buggy, strap her in and then LEAVE THE HOUSE.

10.15 a.m. I stop to buy athlete's foot cream, as I STILL have it. Not only that, but I have also passed it on to husband. The family that plays together passes on communicable diseases to each other, it would seem.

10.30 a.m. We hit the park. We have half an hour to go before our little music lesson. I can't bear chasing her about the playground again, so I decide she can just lurch about the dog free area whilst I have a coffee. My lovely mummy friends and their charges turn up and we all head off to music.

11.00 a.m. It's bloody packed! It's normally relatively quiet, but today you can't move for babies, toddlers and parents / carers. I think the singing man is a bit shocked. We sing 'hello' to everybody, which takes an age and then proceed to sing about elephants, sleeping bunnies, and monsters. We also shake various bits of percussion and waft scarves about.

12.00 a.m. Class is over and it's lunchtime. I invite neighbour's husband and their daughter to come and have lunch with myself and other mummies and babies. He joins us. We all troop off to find a big enough table and enough high chairs. Without going in to too much detail, lunch is a bun fight. The kids eat each others food, run about and scream with delight. It's a success, but by the looks on the faces of the few patrons sans children, it's like a living, breathing version of 'The Last Judgement' by Hieronymus Bosch.

12.50 a.m. I get madam to say 'BYE!!' to all our friends, get our coats on and strap her back in to the buggy. I leg it home for nap time.

1.10 p.m. We arrive home. I unstrap her from the buggy, but she refuses to get out. I try to remove her, but she flips out. Fine, stay there. I abandon her to go and heat up her milk. She gets out of the buggy and I whip her coat off. I ask her to come up stairs, but she ignores me. I go upstairs on my own to sort out her cot and get a bib etc... I come back down and physically take her upstairs. She doesn't seem to mind and chats happily as I lug her up. We have a cuddle and milk. She jumps off my lap to bounce on the bed. I follow and do a nappy change on the move (the fight alone isn't worth it. It also means that she's less likely to go to sleep and I need some time on my own. What I actually mean is I need some time to clear up the pit that used to be the lounge, before the World Health Organisation declare it a humanitarian disaster.)

I say 'bye' and give her a kiss and leave.

2.00 p.m. Silence. I e-mail back a really kind / lovely author who has taken time to reply to an e-mail that I sent them about something I've written. Once I've done that I eat a banana sandwich, clean up and then write a little more.

4.00 p.m. The Kraken awakes!!! Lots of screaming. I leg it up the stairs to calm her down and get her up. She's beside herself and won't let me get her out of the cot. I manage to get her out and take her bag off. She's all over the shop and can't tell me what the matter is. She's done a mahusive poo so, after calming her down, my second most important thing to do is not get shit everywhere.

The remaining hours of the day are a blur to be fair. Daughter is in a foul mood and I have my hair pulled and am hit in the face. I tell her off straight away and make no bones about the fact that it is not acceptable, regardless of ones mood. Husband comes home at some point and I hide in the kitchen and make dinner. I let him deal with bath time. Madam and I clearly need space from one another. I give her her milk and help put her to bed. She screams her head off at 9.30 p.m. so I go back up to calm her down. She drops off quite quickly and I write for a little bit.

Today has been such a bad day that I can't even be bothered to drink. I'm off to fall face-down in a pillow and pray for a black, dreamless sleep. CHEERY BYE!!







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