For my first blog post, I would like to share with you an entry in my diary from a few months ago. I was a single mum as my husband was still living and working overseas. T is 2.5 and F is 8 months.
“This was my day today (ps it’s only 2 pm):
6:45am: F wakes
7:15am: T wakes.
7:20am: T falls over and hits head on floor while attempting to take nappy off.
7:32am: F gets pincer grip all wrong and manages to place sultana up his nose instead of mouth during breakfast
7:33am: T decides to ‘drink’ his yogurt and gets all of it on his face. Then snorts it up through his nose.
***Me thinking “Shit: deal with sultana in nose or yogurt in eyes?”***
Sultana comes out using tweezers.
8:30am: Skype with Daddy – fairly uneventful barring major meltdown from T towards the end. Time to get ready for the morning outing to the supermarket.
Trip to the supermarket went well. Totally forgot to get what we actually needed but I got a shit load of biscuits (for myself) so I’m pleased.
11am: My dad calls and says he’s coming over to see the kids. Cue major tidying up of the living room. There is crap everywhere. “T if you tidy the blocks, I’ll tidy the train tracks and your kitchen (as well as my kitchen).” Meanwhile I have soup on the go and I’m half way through making zucchini corn muffins for lunch.
11:25am: My dad calls, again, to ask us to go out to lunch with him at 12pm to a nice restaurant by the water. OK, I can do this. Muffins can be for dinner, soup is nearly done and will keep for later too. I decide to take the washing out of the machine to hang out on the balcony. Big mistake – 3 pieces of clothing (I’m fairly sure all were my underwear) fly out over the side of the balcony. I hang the rest (while muffins are burning in the oven) and T is desperate to come out onto the balcony.
11:30am: “T, you didn’t finish tidying the blocks so you have to wait inside for me now” – off he goes to tidy all the blocks and comes back to the window to try and squeeze himself outside onto the balcony but the sliding door is ridiculously heavy and he can’t (hurrah!).
11:35am: T goes bananas, running around like a headless chicken shouting what I think is: “I want to come out please”. Meanwhile I’m getting more and more stressed out because a few more pieces of clothing have disappeared and I still need to dress F before my dad arrives, T will not stop shouting, and the freaking muffins are now charcoal AND I still have to look presentable, sort of.
11:40am: What T was saying was : “I need to go wee wee” and proceeds to wee down his pants whilst holding himself (I am the worst mother in the world) and then decided to step on the wee puddle on the floor over and over again wearing socks.
11:45am: T is wearing new undies, pants and new socks. F is now bawling his eyes out. His head is stuck underneath the sofa while trying to get a ball out from under there with his mouth.
11:55am: Time to get myself changed (oh my good Lord I really smell – nope, no time for deodorant now!), and get F changed and dressed. Yes, the burnt muffins are still in the oven.
12pm: T is now crying. He has slipped on some plastic measuring spoons that were on the floor and banged his head against a corner of the kitchen cabinet. Ouch! Poor little man, he was in real pain. F is eating his sock.
12:02pm: My dad rings to tell us he is downstairs waiting for us. I tell him he has to wait for 5 mins while I put on T’s shoes. F is playing with left over wee on the floor (of course I didn’t clean it up!). I grab some toys for the kids.
12:05pm: In the car. Phew. Done.
12:07pm: Shit, I forgot my keys at home.
12:08pm: Shit, the muffins are still in the oven.
12:09pm: And fuck I’m still wearing my slippers.
Mama S xx
‘F is eating his sock’. Ba ha ha! At least their mama has a sense of humour.
Really captures the onethingafteranotherandnotimeforbasicselfcare of many mamas’ days. Nice post!
So funny! Sorry about your undies.