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“He asks: ‘how was your day today, what did you do?’
You think:
Well, I was woken at 7 a.m. while I was in blissful deep sleep by a loud bloodcurdling scream because the baby poo exploded.
To say there was crap everywhere was an understatement. The toddler was also angry because he could hear commotion and he wasn’t involved, so he started screaming too. I rushed to clean everything up and change sheets and get the toddler up, who threw a tantrum on the floor because he wanted yogurt. (He also wanted toast, and a lollipop on the toast.) But decided on rice bubbles which he helped himself to and threw it all over the floor.
I boiled the kettle. After the fourth course of breakfast, I decided to get out of the house and go for a walk to the park, so that meant dressing them. Good lord, I don’t know why a simple task of getting dressed feels like running across a battle zone or streaking naked on a football field while security chases you, but alas here we are.
The toddler acted like a floppy octopus, putting arms in neck holes and laughing uncontrollably while we he went limp. ‘I have to poo’ he said, and then he did. He pooed. Right on the change table with no diaper on. After 50 minutes of disinfecting everything it was the Banshee’s turn. I’m sure every time I change her the neighbors have child protection on speed dial because her screams are louder than a nightmare on elm street.
After holding her for about 45 minutes to console the fact I made her bum go from dirty to clean, I washed my hands, I boiled the kettle (again) and made some sandwiches and snacks for our day out. Finally, ready to leave, woohoo! Victory! except, I’m still in pajamas and I’m pretty sure I have poo on my top.
Gather my resolve and look at myself in the mirror, slap myself and say, ‘You can do this you hear? You will win today. Get dressed and parent the heck out of these kids today’… after 5 minutes of weeping uncontrollably, I find some clean clothes, (clean is subjective), and after screaming for my kids to put on shoes we exit the front door.
5 minutes in and the toddler throws himself on the floor because there’s no ducks out, and because his sister is on his bike. Try to swap them and comfort both and then the baby throws herself on the floor (she’s a toddler but I call her a baby because she’s my baby) because she wants the bike too. Put her on my shoulders and try to push this bike with one hand on the toddler and the other on the baby while my back slowly breaks. Get to the park and the swings are occupied… Jesus, why do you forsake me?
Toddler waits patiently next to the kid swinging on the kid swing, kid doesn’t like that and tries to kick my toddler with every swing he makes. Mother of kid gives me a dirty look while I’m trying to stop the baby from eating bark. ‘Yes lady, I don’t have my sh*t together’ kid succeeds and kicks my toddler, even though I told him to move back, to which he gets up angry like chuck Norris ready to fly kick him into the next country, but instead gets bowled over after trying to lunge at him.
Sigh.
Comfort the toddler while the baby stuffs bark in her mouth, look up to the heavens again… why?? The heavens repay me by dropping rain on my head. Like I’m metaphorically or literally being pissed on. Yep it’s starting to rain. Decide it’s time to go home and hold one screaming child in one arm and one in the other arm trying to kick the bike home with one foot.
Walk through the door, boil the kettle (again) and realize I have not eaten today, you know how people say they forget? And you’re like, how the heck can you forget to eat…?
Oh, have kids and it’ll happen.
I stuff my face with chips and a protein bar while trying to make snacks and cook dinner while the baby pulls out all the containers that I’ve ever purchased (in a vain attempt to meal prep) all over the floor while the toddler hangs off my legs requesting Mac and Cheese and my protein bar.
Finally get my stuff together and make a picnic blanket (i.e. throw everything on a towel) on the floor where they sit down and eat finally. Boil the kettle again and finally make a coffee even though I’ll be up at 3 a.m. from the caffeine hit and I’ll be over thinking about all the stressful things in my life… like you know, bills.
Sit down and grab my phone and now you walk through the door now that everything isn’t chaotic and I look like a lazy ass on my phone drinking a coffee when really it should be straight vodka for the day I’ve had, thank you for asking.
You say (as you look at those two turd burgers who are the best damn thing that ever happened to you):
‘Yeah it was good, we went to the park. How about you?’”
WE NEED YOUR SUPPORT:
You’ve read our raw and emotional stories of hope, compassion, grief, healing, and kindness. Unlike many publishers we have not put up a paywall, but we depend on contributions from our amazing readers. We’ve had 200 million likes and 10 million shares…and now, we need just $5 from you. Become a Love What Matters supporter on Facebook and receive exclusive stories and videos while also helping us to keep spreading the love throughout 2019.
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Laura Mazza of Mum on the Run, where it originally appeared. Submit your story here, and subscribe to our best love stories here.
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