Well…. it got me.
Payback out played me. It couldn’t even wait until tomorrow when Eli was at nursery the unreasonable bastard. I knew yesterday that’d I’d done too much, I knew I’d pay but I didn’t bank on it coming so soon or so hard to be honest…. I was cocky. I should have known better. Last night was pretty horrific so I’m sorry I wasn’t around for the usual banter on the Facebook page…. I was in bed asleep well before 9pm. Not that I stayed asleep mind, because my bones decided that at the very point I had found my comfy spot, that beautiful beautiful cosy, cloud like spot in my bed that they would try and escape my legs. I’d been horribly sore all night but this was pretty extreme – so extreme that I was genuinely wondering if the doc had prescribed me placebos rather than Tramadol to see if I noticed the difference. I’m sure she hasn’t but my painkillers were as effective as Frank Spencer last night – I may was well have doused myself in fairy tears for all the good they did. I regret accusing the doctor of being a sadist though – soz Doc.
I couldn’t get up this morning, literally couldn’t. I’d been awake from 2-4 trying to get myself pain free (failed) so when Eli woke up just before 6 I could have cried. I didn’t mind, I poked Christiaan and asked him to take Eli downstairs so I could sleep; that poor bloke never gets a break. He did it though, and without a grumble because he’s an utter gem AND he knows he didn’t have to deal with Eli for the rest of the day, he was working, it was almost like a holiday. Its mad where you find respite when you have a kid (or several), I genuinely look forward to going for a shit; it’s a nice wee break…. when he doesn’t follow me in pointing and my fanjo and asking where my willy is that is. So, I slept till just after 7, woke up in a state of panic thinking that it was after 8 and I’d made Christiaan late. There’s nowt worse is there? Waking up with your heart hammering in panic? Yes there is. There is worse. Imagine waking up like that, getting out of bed and finding your head weights 43 stone and is hurtling you towards the ensuite door via last nights socks on the floor. MORNING CAMPERS!
Tuesdays are always the same, I go to my mum and dads in the morning. I pretend I’m going for a visit but they know, and I know, that I’m there for some help with Eli. Which is just as well because he was an utter tit today. He’s got the attitude of a 14 year old girl, the temperament of an hangry gnome and the giggles of an serene angel; he’s the most beautiful wee psycho I know and although he’s a tit I’d not change him. I mean look. Would you?
That sums up my day to be honest. We had tantrums every 4 minutes or so for reasons unknown. He looks like he’s had a tragic accident falling off his horse in the second pic doesn’t he? You’d probably not believe me if I told you he’d chucked it on the floor and hit the deck because I said “is horsey tired”? Arsehole.
Anyway I pinned my hopes on him rather than horsey being tired and got him down for his nap after we came back from my folks. I was hanging by a thread myself. Payback kicks you squarely in the flaps, pours cement in your brain and and throws you under a bus; it’s a cruel mistress. So I had no choice; I had to go sleep too. That means I’ve had an epic 13 hours sleep since 8pm last night and I genuinely can’t wait to crawl back and get some more. I’d high five my lazy arse if I thought I’d appreciate it.
I was the only person idling though, while I’d been asleep Davie and Agnes had been busy…..decorating, and making the place their own.
That’s my bedroom window and my living room window. They’ve clearly been watching me and know that I spend the majority of my time in these two rooms…. and what better way to show me that they think I’m a lazy arsehole than by shitting on my windows. How they managed to angle their arsehole to hit the window so many times is beyond me, but I wish they’d put their talents to better use – shitting on people who fail to indicate, or park in mother and child spaces when they have no kid with them would be doing everyone a favour. One of them has taken to staring at me when I’m making dinner, I’m guessing it’s Agnes trying to pick up some tips but fuck me it’s off putting, between her and Alexa I feel like I’m on MasterChef and the pressure is getting to me!!
Turns out Eli napping was not the answer to him being an utter arsehole. It transpires that this is just who he is now, and that was a problem because there was no way I was capable of going out this afternoon, which means I was trapped in with only him for company. Now I know what you’re going to say; “the poor kid is probably bored”. No, fuck you, he isn’t – he’s just a bell end. THIS is how my lounge looked for the majority of the afternoon and he STILL wasn’t happy.
And that my friends is only one side of the lounge. There was brightly coloured shit everywhere, a sticker book featuring more flashing than I was comfortable with and ALL of the snacks… the kid was still fucking miserable and so was I (look how big my hair is!).
Your options are pretty limited when you’re indoors, and in this mood he hasn’t the tolerance for very much, in fact even in a better mood he’s unreasonable so there are things we just don’t entertain. Things that other mums do and manage to capture beautiful, memorable and fun pictures of; they look like mums SHOULD in the magazines and the kids? Oh the kids are fucking ADORABLE. They’re stood there, baking with Mum and loving every minute of it, licking the spoon and jovially putting cake mix on each others noses and what not. So at the back end of last year I tried it, I thought “he’s of an age now he’ll LOVE baking. I know! I’ll pick up one of those cheapy cup cake mix packs, there’s hardly any graft in that and it’ll be a fun, quick and low impact activity.” So I did. This is what happened.
Never. A. Fucking. Gain.
I do worry though, on my bad days like this, that he’s just not getting enough of anything. Not enough outside, or enough stimulation, or enough entertainment, or enough Mummy…. but I’m doing all I can and to be honest, until he starts enjoying baking our relationship is going to be strange. I LOVE it. This cupcake mix was killing me because back before I was poorly I’d bake all the time, properly bake, not shit out of a packet and I’d been really looking forward to baking for a wee one who loved his Mummys baking. Except mine doesn’t. He will CRY when confronted with something he doesn’t recognise. Which says a lot for my baking to be fair; maybe it’s a good thing all round that I’ve stopped…. ungrateful bastards.
So tomorrow he goes into nursery and I think it’ll do him good – gets him out to see his wee pals, keeps him entertained and gets him out from under my feet and….. I can sleep and “rest”. I have to stop myself from trying to find things that need done mind, this house is never ending so there’s always something but I really struggle with wasting time sitting down and doing fuck all when there’s so many other uses for my time. It’s an ongoing battle and one I need to conquer over these next few weeks if I’ve got any hope of this being a short term flare rather than a permanent change. I shall sit down. I shall do fuck all. I shall rest. I shall hate every minute of it and feel guilty. I shall suck that up like a big girl and get on with it because I NEED to get back on a more even keel. I NEED to get back to work and I NEED to be out of this much pain.
I tell you what though, it’s on days like today that I’d happily eat shit rather than proper food. Your body just craves the quick fix, so anything sugary or stodgy just to get your energy levels ticking over and your belly filled quickly. It does me absolutely no favours if I give in so I don’t – I don’t want a sugar hang over as well as everyfuckingthing else thanks. So although I looked longingly at my non pretender white bread and imagined it toasted and smothered in peanut butter (smooth, never crunchy…no honestly, it’s not up for debate), I told it “it’s not a no forever toots, it’s a not right now” and flung it in the freezer before fetching a soulless yoghurt from the fridge and a fucking banana, the arse end of all fruits in my opinion.
I stuck to it though and now it’s after dinner time and I’m fucked. I MADE IT! I’m off…
- I didn’t eat shit
- I got extra sleep
- I didn’t push myself to go out
- Tomorrow I have no toddler, I have “me” time
- A really challenging day pain and energy wise and I struggled with my words this afternoon… in saying that I was only talking to Eli and he talks shite half the time
- Guilt – about everything really, has been rattling around me like a fat kid round a doughnut. I need to get shot of it.
- I really wanted to eat shit.
- Whats on the menu Mellars?
- Breakfast – yoghurt and banana (boo!)
- Lunch – Heck sausages and some onion on a BFree Pitta (these are free as your B choice for any fellow fat fighters)
- Dinner – Kedgeree…. well cheats kedgeree. It’s my simple tea and it’s v tasty.
So I cook this in my InstantPot which is a fancy pressure cooker. If I didn’t have a fancy pressure cooker I’d cook the rice on the hob and it’d be grand… but I’ve not worked out the timings for that because I’m neither your mother nor your cook. You’ll manage I’m sure.
- 1 onion
- 2 tablespoons of curry powder
- 1 chicken stock pot dissolved in about 50ml of water
- 1 cup of basmati rice (rinsed)
- 1 cup of cold water
- 2 smoked basa fillets cut into chunks
- 1 cup of frozen peas
Chuck the whole fucking lot apart from the peas in the Instant Pot – cook on high pressure for 9 minutes then release the pressure and chuck in your frozen peas. Put the lid back on a couple of mins until the peas are warmed through (I like them to pop when you eat them). When its finished, chuck some boiled eggs (8 minute eggs are perfect for me) on top. I serve mine with tenderstem broccoli because I’m up my own arse and I need to ensure veg intake is at least a third of my plate but you can leave it off – a wee splodge of mango chutney works well with it according to Christiaan.
This serves us two and leaves enough for another portion normally. Job done.