Each morning my day starts off with a fight. It used to be gorgeous cuddles and kisses but those days are now long gone! They’ve been replaced by a screaching toddler demanding a “pwogggrahm” the second he wakes up shortly followed by him pulling on my hair, banging on my chest and shouting “DOOR!” in an attempt to get to my breasts! Which is super annoying since I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to get him to eat porridge for breakfast, but he screams blue murder and tries to throw it on the floor after 2-3spoons. “For Gods sake, do you not remember those days when you used to eat just pears and raisins for breakfast?? Raisins!! They’re not even a fucking food for God’s sake!! Eat your PORRIDGE,” I really feel like screaming this back to him. So after 30 or so minutes of fending off blows and howls, and pretending not to see the grumpy death stare directed straight at me, I give in and let him drain the life out of me.
I surrender myself to my possessed 1 year old, who’s eyes are virtually popping out of his head, transfixed on my boobs waiting to pounce with stealth like precision on to my exposed nipple. He fends off potential threats by thrusting his legs with brute force in his brothers direction often resulting in him lashing out too. As you can now imagine, in my attempts to break up the fight, I become their boxing bag, which to them is oh so funny. Typical!
Finally the leg thrusts reduce and instead my nose ring becomes the new fascination whilst he happily sucks away. I spend the next 10minutes defending myself. I continuously push his hand away whilst simultaneously moving my head side to side, stretching my neck further and further away as he attempts to hold me still and pull on that ‘shiny sticker that’s stuck on mummy’s nose’. All the while I’m trying to answer his big brother’s million and one “why’ questions! ‘Why is he kicking me? Why is he pulling on your nose? Why can’t I eat chocolate for breakfast? Why do I have to go to school? Why are there clouds? Why did I say that?” Oh, give me strength! Then of course every answer precedes another ‘why?’ The cycle continues.
So once the little one’s finished with his milky feast, I’m left feeling adequately zombified! I then give in and put the pwogggrahms on and all 3 of us sit in silence staring at the weird human like talking animals on the screen, still in pj’s with filthy teeth and sleep in our eyes. This time, in which they both disappear into their own world, full of fairies, magic and jumping pigs, often results in them humorously expelling all their morning farts, sometimes in unison. This in itself is a good enough reason to start screen time so early on in our days! Not only does it mean that they *should* be more calm and relaxed for the rest of the morning, it also provides me with a much needed daily giggle in this lonely and slightly ground hoggish existence.
It normally takes a large cup of tea and often a bit of chocolate (a slab is probably needed but it would make the little one too sick) to get me going again and give me enough energy to chase the boys around the house in order to just get them dressed for the day. Like a wild animal chasing her prey, I take them down one at a time. Once caught, it takes an almighty effort, often involving pinning each of them down with my legs, to get their clothes on. The one I have pinned is laughing his head off flailing his arms and legs whilst the other one picks up the clothes with his TEETH and runs away. Faaarrk….!! Repeat, times a million, and almost an hour later they are dressed. Then its time for teeth brushing and face washing. One more cup of tea, and a slice of cake/packet of biscuits/a few spoonfuls of sugar, before I start that task!
Once done, it’s then time for me to get ready. Easy right? WRONG! My boys are like bees! They hover all around me, climbing, jumping, landing on me and don’t disappear despite all efforts to shoo them away. I cant even put my knickers on without them hanging off me, jumping onto me from the bed or pretending to eat my legs. I’ve never understood this phenomenon either, but bare skin seems to cue incessant slapping, leaving me prancing around my room howling “ow” as they follow closely alongside howling themselves, with laughter!
I put my legs through the wrong knicker holes the other day as I tried to dress at lightening fast speed whilst running in the opposite direction to them. I realised just as they caught up with me and I thought, “Fuck it, it’s more hassle than it’s worth trying to rectify this situation”. So I just left them as they were and wore them sideways for the day. Then spent 25 minutes struggling to put my jeans on. I’ve resorted to throwing them both of the bed which gives me roughly 4 seconds at a time to pull them up a little higher.
By the time we’re ready to leave the house I’m ready to crash! Just 2 hours of my day as a stay at home mum to 2 young boys is physically and mentally exhausting! I count down the hours to bedtime and I count down the days till the weekend when I get some help from their dad.
When the day is over, I fall on to the sofa in a slobbish like fashion and stay laying in any which way I happen to land. I stare into space thinking about all the mess I now need to tidy but I have no energy whatsoever. My very soul is tired! I zone out with an almighty brain freeze or stare at my laptop screen interested in seeing what other people are doing in their lives. I see the pics of my childless friends thoroughly enjoying their lives, as I once did, and hope they make the most of this time before it all changes one day. Then I look at the posts from our parents generation and feel hope for myself that one day I will get that life back again!
I think about the last 3 years, particularly the last 1.5years dealing with my kids health issues, and realise that they are both so much better than they were. There’s still a long way to go for them but this time has been, in the grand scheme of things, a fleeting moment. A time when our lives got turned upside down, huge sacrifices were made and our idea of what it would look like having our own family was screwed up, chewed and spat out. Yet still, this time has come and gone and all I have left of it are fading memories and lots of blurry and crap pictures of my kids looking anywhere but the camera. Then I wonder if in 20years time I will be looking at the posts of those mums with young kids thinking, I hope you make the most of this time because, before you know it, your babies will be gone, grown up.
I leave you with a gorgeous picture of our weekend fun at the local outdoor splashpark. It’s one of those annoying pics that makes everyone think our lives are just ‘fucking perfect’, which is what I love about it because, in that very moment in our whole day, week even, our lives actually were perfect! I often wish all our days could be this positive, but then these really happy moments wouldn’t stand out quite so much as they do in our endless days of imperfection.
So there you have it. Always remember to cherish the good moments and in the shit ones, well, just know they will pass!
(The simple version anyway.)