Mama bears crappy day

Yesterday was a bad day. No that doesn’t give justice to how bad it was. It was a dreadful, terribly dog shit day. That just about sums it up. It started off so well. Mr B slept in until 8am which is a record for him and Mr S was happy to lie in my bed watching cbeebies while I cat napped, (be honest mums, what would we do without Mr Tumble and his spotty bag). We went in the garden where they both played nicely and then they fell asleep together on the chair. Perfect morning…….. then it happened. 

I lay down and closed my eyes on the sun lounger and at that moment Mr B screamed and I mean screamed. I jumped up and saw blood all over his face. Que mummy panic, cold sweats, shaking and wondering how long an ambulance would take at this precise moment. Turns out he had bit his tongue in his sleep, however he continued to cry and cry and cry. So obviously Mr S woke up and was terrified by all the screaming and commotion, he ran to me crying and shaking while demanding up. Neither would settle and both were clearly still tired so I decided to go in and try and settle them in their own beds.

On the way upstairs, (3 flights of stairs while carrying them both), Mr B pulled a chunk out of Mr S's curls, prompting more screaming and writhing resulting into me clinging onto them by their nappies. Once I had them settled I went down to get my drink out of the garden and stood in a dog shit. Marvellous, (sarcastic). By the time I had cleaned up and called the dogs a lot of angry words under my breath, Mr B was up. No word of a lie he cried and whined for the rest of the day.

When Mr S woke up he wanted to be continually held, that is until he decided to be mummys big boy and go and play on his slide. Ahhhhh, sigh of relief. I put my feet up and phoned hubby to tell him how bad my day was and how of course it was all his fault for being in work when he should be helping me, when a shuttlecock came over the fence from the children playing next door. Being the wonderful neighbour that I am I threw it back to them which in Mr S’s eyes was an invitation for him to spend the next 5 minutes inconsolably crying, pointing at the fence and giving me the stink eye. I explained several times that we can’t just go in peoples gardens and he could play with me, he ignored me and got louder. He is so rude, not listening, just like his father.

By this point I was at the point of breaking. I bundled them both into the kitchen secured them in their highchairs and began their tea. Funny how crying children sound louder in the kitchen. I checked they were both securely strapped in, then went for a mummy wee, which is code for going to the bathroom, shutting the door, sitting on the floor and having a little cry. Then getting up stronger and ready to start again. It’s similar to a daddy poo, which is when daddy goes in the bathroom, LOCKS the door and sits on Facebook. Don’t even get me started on how daddy always needs a ‘poo’ when there is something to be done. That’s a whole other blog. (he just read this and defended himself with, “it’s not always Facebook, sometimes its Instagram.”)

 I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes I just have to walk away. If I know my boys are safe, fed, watered and clean its sometimes best to just have a minute, let them have a minute and then start again, (p.s this works with hubbys as well). Mr S refused tea and threw every last crumb of my hard work to the dogs, Mr B ate every last bit while making sure that he got just enough in his hair.

Now I have a rule, if a child is cranky put them in water. I knew they would not give me chance to run them a bath so I switched on the shower. Mr B got in and was instantly happy. It was as though he hadn’t spent the day screaming and tongue biting, why didn’t I do this sooner. Mr S however was not happy and gripped me so hard his nails broke the skin. I suddenly realised the sooner I get them washed and pyjamaed the sooner this sucky day is over and I can drink. At this point I stood up took a deep breath and thought there is only one thing to do, pick him up, get in the shower and sit there with them. I was in that much of a rush to end this horrific day I didn’t even undress. When hubby walked in from work there we were, the three of us sat in the shower basin. Mr B splashing manically, me clothed, wet and broken with Mr S cradled on my knee having his hair washed.

Now these bad days don’t happen too often but when they do my gosh they are hard. All is well that ends well though. I ordered Chinese, I ate the bar of dairy milk that I’d put away for father’s day, (warning hubby that if he mentioned my diet at any point I would stab him with my chopstick), I had a gin and watched Big Bang Theory. What can I say, I love being a mum.

Good day to you

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Lets go to the Beach, Beach.

And so ends another week where we still live with my mum while we save to get on the property ladder, I’m still overweight (although I have lost 10lb on my health kick so far) and I’m still amazed by the fact that in the time it took me to go for a wee on Thursday morning, Mr S found a bag of Wotsits, opened them and began munching.

We have been taking things easy this week as my husband has been quite ill and in hospital a couple of times. Were still unsure what exactly is wrong with him but he has been referred to all the right people and been given what seems to be magic medicine, as he is doing loads better already. After all the people he has seen this week and help he has received, I really do believe the name NHS describes the people who work within, NICE, HELPFUL, SUPERHEROS!!! There was a long wait but that’s ok as part of me really enjoys sitting in waiting rooms. I play a little game in my head where I try and guess why everyone is there. In the a&e waiting room most people were there because alcohol wasn’t their friend.

 There was the man who was there because he had had too much to drink and clearly just needed somewhere to lie down, he later stood up and shouted “you’re only keeping me waiting so I sober up and you can get some sense out of me, well I won’t be sleeping until someone pulls their finger out and sees me”. He then fell asleep again.

Then there was a woman who looked like she had done some sort of damage to her arm due to alcohol. She had hair like a nest, lipstick was smeared up her cheek and she had a false eyelash stuck to her boob, (that or a spider had set up camp on mount Titmus). As I was at the vending machine I heard her on the phone saying, “don’t worry about me, I saw some prosecco left in the bin and it tipped up on me, I’m having an x-ray soon”.

So with the Hubby feeling a bit better this weekend we ventured to Lytham St Anne’s and had a day on the beach. We took a little picnic, although with how much sand Mr B and Mr S ate they weren’t hungry by the time we opened it. As it was Friday and most people were stuck in work and school, we had practically the whole beach to ourselves, so the obvious happened. When someone else did arrive, (a woman who stripped down to bra and knickers), she set up just over a metre away from us. I mean come on underwear lady, the beach is huge, do you really need to interfere in our little beach bubble. Neither my children, nor my husband need to see your cerise bra and toned tummy while I’m over here in my comfy t-shirt eating crisp. Some women are just such bitches. No but in all seriousness why do people do that, like when you’re the first in the cinema. You sit down, get comfy, another couple arrive and sit in the seats right next to you, when no other seat is taken. It’s not ok, it’s not good manners and furthermore it makes you a douche.

Apart from the underwear lady with no sense of personal space, we had an amazing day. It was Mr B’s first time on the beach and he loved every minute of it. He loved the feel of the sand and spent hours picking fistfuls up and sieving it through his chubby fingers. All the fresh air wore him out and he looked so cute napping in the sun shelter in his nappy and sunhat. Mr S has been before but was very young and couldn’t walk. So this time he spent the whole day running round and digging like a maniac. When it was time to leave we packed up and walked back to the car where he stood, waving at the sand dunes, shouting “bye bye bitch”, I think he meant beach, but I don’t know he might have been talking to underwear lady.

Good day to you x

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