You know those mums who totally have their shit together? Yeah?! Me too. And I’m not one of them.
Let me tell you about my day in the hope that, in some small way it makes you feel better about yours.
Today was tough. It started out fine. I even managed a lie in until 7.30 (we don’t count the wake ups to feed or wee overnight). I made Vince’s sandwiches last night too so didn’t have to rush doing them (yes we are very new age in our house)!
The day went tits up somewhere around 8am. First of all I had only had a coffee. I went back to the sitting room to “what have you been eating?”
“Erm, nothing” I honestly had no recollection of eating anything.
“You smell like nuts” came the squinty eyed reply. Big L will make a fantastic inquisitor one day. I had indeed swiped a couple of dry roasted nuts from a bowl next to the coffee machine.
I must have gone into the kitchen for something else (possibly to scoff more nuts) and Little L, who has been very clingy for the last few days (since birth) (Dr Google would have me believe it’s a Wonder Week and could last 2 weeks, God Help me) seemed to think the milk provider had left him forever. Cue crying which has gone on for the best part of the day. Normally that would be a bit of a pain in the arse to say the least but today we were going to see Finding Dory at the cinema.
I also decided to do three loads of washing before we left the house seeing as the weather has cheered up. Well that was also a mistake. Why do I put so much pressure to do so much in one day on myself? I really don’t know.
Anyway. At around 9am Little L fell asleep so I hotfooted it to the bathroom to have a shower. I’ve got over 3 hours before we leave. That should be plenty of time. Hahaha!!
I swear to God that kid can hear me taking my nightie off because as soon as it hit the floor he starts crying. I give him a cuddle and he stops crying. I put his bouncer in the bathroom. Get in the shower. Wet my hair and lather some shampoo (this doesn’t happen nearly as often as it should these days). Little L starts crying. Big L appears to inform me that Little L is crying “yes, Darling, I know. I can hear him. I won’t be long” translates as “are you shitting me, Kid? I do have fucking ears you know. Can I get a minute to wash my arse?” Deep condition and planned exfoliation abandoned (this also happens once in a blue moon these days) I wash the necessary areas with soap (shower gel is a luxury time wise) and quickly condition and rinse my hair while Little L’s screams reach heights that only dolphins (and I) can hear.
Out of the shower I get. Dry as much as possible. Take Little L to the bedroom and lie on the bed to feed him in an effort to get him to sleep.
No sleep. Ok. Let’s just put a (clean) nightie on and go downstairs. Maybe he’ll sleep in his bouncer. Will he hell?
Put another load of washing in the machine. At least I can do that. How did it get to 10.30? Fucks sake. I want to put some make up on. My skin has begun to resemble a Pepperoni Pizza in recent weeks and it’s nice to look nice occasionally (something else that happens all too rarely these days). Oh. Little L had fallen asleep. Run upstairs and put some make up on. I managed foundation and powder before the doorbell rang. Little L wakes up.
I take Little L upstairs and finish my face while Big L is watching mind numbing crap on Kids You Tube. Normal You Tube was banned after Big L exclaimed “What the fuck” at the dinner table and eventually admitted he heard it in a You Tube video. Thank fuck he didn’t hear it from me, eh?!
Half my face complete between entertaining Little L and half listening to make sure Big L hasn’t come across some sort of weird Minecraft fan porn (I shit you not that stuff exists) I suddenly realise it’s 11.50. We’re going out in 40 minutes and none of us are dressed and we need lunch.
Beans heated and bread buttered Big L is happy enough. I get dressed. Get Little L dressed. Shout at Big L to eat faster and get dressed.
Shit. I have two loads of washing to hang out.
My friend arrives. She doesn’t have kids (yet) but was once a nanny. She understands. I think. As usual I’m running around like a half starved demented pigeon pecking at seeds. “I’ve just got to hang this washing out then we can go”. I won’t go into the excitement of hanging out washing or putting two kids in the car one of whom is screaming yet again and squirming like an octopus covered in baby oil. Or even parking. Making sure that we have enough space to get everyone out of the car and the pushchair out of the boot. What has life become? Or the fact that I’m such a tight arse that we take a pitstop to the pound shop for drinks and sweets for the cinema (I do buy their popcorn, I’m not a total git).
Finally we get to the cinema and take our seats. Little L is asleep. There is a God. I relax. Sweets and drinks passed around I feel someone staring at me. It’s awake. He seems in good spirits. It’s fine. The film starts. He’s enjoying it. He’s been to the cinema before. This is fine. Or not. Ok. He’s grizzly. Feed him. Yup. That’s done it. Or not. I pick him up. Then realise my nipple is hanging out under my top. Not for the first time. Eventually I decide enough’s enough and take Little L out of the cinema. After walking up and down outside for about half an hour he falls asleep. I’m not risking taking him back in. The film finishes (it turns out they did Find Dory) and we decide to go for a coffee. Big mistake. Little L wakes up in a foul mood and screams. Big L is pissed off that Little L is getting all the attention (who can blame him) and starts playing up too. Give me strength. I tell my friend I need gin. We are most definitely the best contraception there is. Little L keeps his vocal onslaught up all the way from the coffee shop to the car and all the way home.
He’s still crying now. He’s fed. Changed. Bounced. Cuddled. Fed again. You name it. He’s just not happy. It’s dinner time now and I’ve no idea what to cook.
Vince is home! Louis is smiling And blowing raspberries now. Vince is cooking (pasta). Luca is paying Lego and I’m sat on my arse writing this. I might get myself a little Gin. Bottoms up!!
Oh bollocks. I’ve got three loads of washing to get off the line…
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