Every day is a relentless fast paced, exhausting ride. It starts with a feed for 3 month old Pudge about 5.30am, then a bath for Pudge, Stretch and me. All in the same bath as the Aga only allows for one bath per day. Stretch attempts to empty the bath onto the fooor with various boats and ducks. Pudge then goes with his Daddy to get dressed and Stretch and I begin our first wrestle of the day, getting him out of the bath, his naked break for freedom across the landing with bits flying everywhere and hooded towel streaming backwards in a cape ( Stretch, not me ). A full blown bribing / threatening battle commences over the act of dressing as Stretch races to his bed and attempts to use the slide bare arsed to no effect as he squeaks his way slowly and painfully to the bottom. ” you cant go to school / the park / shopping / to the dinosaur museum / for a walk without your clothes / the cookie monster says get dressed quickly! ” Stretch h as a pathological terror of the cookie monster. Dressed, I quickly get myself ready, make up slapped on, least fat showing outfit and hair dried whilst making the bed with one hand and checking Facebook at the same time. I vow to find time to reply to friends properly. Breakfast. Porridhe made and refused. Fruit peeled and chopped and refused. Toast licked then refused. Cheese given. Another feed for Pudge whilst trying to sterilise bottles, pack schoolbags, going out bags, put washing on, drag last lot out of dryer and add to 8ft high clean not yet put away never to be ironed pile. Why so many clothes when I never have anything to wear?
Husband cant find his trousers. Neither can he remember where he took them off. At work? I joke. Trousers found in obvious place on top of fridge, with the shoes, in a toy box, by the back door?
Now Stretch is systematically untidying the house. I must go out in order to protect the house. Pudge does not like going out, but will have to lump it as Stretch is now using the Stannah stairlift as a a firemans pole. And screaming Help! Rescue me! Fireman Sam! Fireman Sam might always be ‘ cool and calm ‘ but I am not.
Stretch strapped into car seat in the front and Pudge wailing immediately in the back. Mumbled apologies whilst fastening what wil be an unfeasible amount of straps that face parents per day. A random activity devised on the spot to entertain Stretch until lunchtime. Gruffalo hunting, feed the ducks, seek dinosaur poo at the nature reserve ( cowpats ) , a soft play zone, playdates ( dodgy as Stretch is a bit hands on ), the park ( dodgy as there are fireman poles and Stretch will definitely take a flying leap for them. Much strap related hoo haa is involved. In and out of the car x 2, Stretch also undoing his mid drive so random pulling into someones drive to restrap him in and threaten the cookie monster, supermarket trollies, buggies, reins etc etc. Finally lunchtime arrives, mostly in the car seat whilst Pudge being fed in drivers seat. The passengers footwell is a wreckage of wellies, juice, rejected fruit, toy cars, cocktail sausages and dummies. I promise myself I will find the time to clean and polish my car one day. Nappies are changed on the back seat of the car whilst people ask me if Im leaving the parking space. Look love, I want to shout, Ive got two shitty arses to wipe and the biggest one is half kicking me to death here! Return towards home, Stretch passes out on the way, Pudge is only wail free at 30mph or more. I realise Im still listening to Justin Fletcher when I get home.
Deep breath. Primed for action as I leap from the car to remove Stretch from his multitude of straps before Pudge notices decrease in movement. Race Stretch into house like a Fireman Sam rescue in reverse. Place on bed, dummy in, monitor on, , race back downstairs, dodge elderly in laws with zimmers who are the back door muttering about the cold even though its 18 degrees outside and they are deaf to the almighty screams of a 3 month old in the car in the yard. ‘Your car doors are open ‘ father in law tuts as I try to get past him. ” i know, its baby, he’s in the car! ” I hop from foot to foot as Father in law stops mid door way ‘pardon? ‘
The screams are escalating, “baby is in the car ! ” I panic
‘You want to brinng, its freezing out there……..’
Baby in, loved, changed, pacified, look at the clock. 12.32. FUCK OFF!
Make dinner, children awake, changed, fed, bribed and threatened and into the car. More straps and more random activities. More back seat seat wails at every red light, and screams of No, poo pants!
Home at 4.58. Husband home. Says hes knackered, trousers already removed, .
Serve dinner, washup, 8ft clothes mountain reduced to 3ft and 12ft put through the wash, tomorrows clothes laid out, pjs picked, bottles sterlised, toys put away, more feeds, more bottoms changed.
Stretches bedtime, another cookie monster threat. Then I fall asleep around 9.30pm, husband brings up baby at 10pm then leaves me tomdo night feeds but Im lucky because I go to bed early.
Last week the husband took the children and I did his job for the day at the family pottery exhibition. I was bored, lonely and couldnt wait to see my babies. Conclusion motherhood = happy insanity.
moonmaidenmummy 