Ahhhhhhhhhh Monday you big pile of shite; I had accepted you’d be coming but I can’t say I was chuffed to see you. You’d think not having to work a Monday, and being off sick anyway that I’d be more ambivalent toward the start of the week but I’ve a deep rooted hatred of it. If nowt else it signals the end of family time, which I love, and a day of solo parenting which I struggle with.
I was dreading this Monday more than the last few simply because I’m feeling even worse than the last few…. and they were pretty bad. I always feel guilty about dreading my solo time with Eli -it’s not that I don’t like spending time with him, I adore him but it takes such a lot out of me; it’s the not having my wing man that I dread. I absolutely salute every single Mum in the whole wide world, because I only have a tiny flavour of their life one day a week and it’s fucking hard – doing it 24/7 must be the toughest graft imaginable. Kudos to you vagina crew. In case no one’s told you today, you’re doing an absolutely sterling job and I hope your little people one day realise the sacrifices you’ve made to keep them safe and warm and happy. You’re a wee bit special you know ❤
What wasn’t so special was our 5am start to the day. That fucking Gro Clock isn’t doing the trick, it’s not the magical answer to our problems and it does not hypnotise children into sleeping longer; Eli’s ignores it. He knew the bastard thing was still set to night time. The reason I know he knew was he said “Special clock stars” and then starting singing twinkle fucking twinkle through the monitor TO THE CLOCK. That kid takes the piss. He gives none of the fucks about going back to sleep when he’s awake – he wants UP, he wants milk and he wants jigsaws and if that doesn’t happen in a time frame he feels is acceptable then he starts screaming. Now I’m alright with him screaming to be honest, he can scream till the cows come home, it’s not screaming that gets him his own way, it’s the fact the fucking cats join in. The three of them gang up on us. No fucker can sleep through that. Bonnie and Bear start fighting and running around, over your face, biting your feet or chucking toys about. Eli hears them and shouts on them and then all fucking three of them start crying to see each other. Fucks sake. Thankfully Eli’s not bright enough to have realised he can actually climb over the bars of his cot yet – but it’s coming, maybe when he’s 34. After the initial whimpering we have the full blown screaming and it’s at that point Christiaan often does that thing I like; he rolls over, all seductive like, looks at me and says “you stay in bed hun, I’ll take him downstairs”. FUCKING GET IN! Now I do play the game a bit with a feeble “are you sure?” instead of physically punch the air in triumph, but both he and I know it’s all for show – he always says yes, because, well he’s a marvellous man. So they both totter downstairs and “play” – poor Christiaan, he could barely get his eyes open when he left the bedroom. I felt sorry for him until I fell back to sleep.
I didn’t take the piss though, Monday means work for Christiaan and he needs to get ready for that so I was up at 6ish when I heard him telling Eli off for throwing something or other. He’s a twat for throwing at the minute and I just can’t get it through to him that it’s not how normal civilised people behave in the house. On a rugby pitch – fine but not in the house. Fucker.
It’s at that point the gravity of the situation hits me; it’s Monday morning, I have no plans, Eli has all of the energy and I literally have none. Not an iota. It was a struggle enough to get out of bed and down the stairs. Fuck. I did what all growns up do in a crisis; I drank tea and stared at the telly until I had a plan. Shower>breakfast>get tiny twat dressed>get in car>drive to soft play>drink coffee>knacker wombfruit>back home>feed it>get it to sleep. There, that was my plan and it was a cracking one but it wasn’t one I was looking forward to. I generally HATE soft play for lots of reasons, but here’s a few just so you get a flavour of who I am:
- Other people’s kids. See, before I had Eli I had a very small circle of children I would tolerate; it was mostly family and very close friends because, well, you’re obliged to to be fair. I was never ever clucky to have a family, I have never gushed at kids, I have never melted at the sight of a baby. Kids, especially those who don’t belong to me can be fucking arseholes and people don’t parent in the same way I do, which means, well they’re doing it wrong for a start, but it also means that their child is not a carbon copy of Eli and therefore I don’t like them. Simple. I could go to town trying to justify that but the truth is; I’d happy trip another kid up while it was running just for shits and giggles. I know all my friends with kids will be sat wondering if I hate their offspring; I don’t, you know me well enough to know that I would absolutely make my excuses to be nowhere near you or your child if they made my tits itch. If I see you, and I see the sprog/s regularly then it’s fair to say you’re in the sacred circle of “quite fond” or “love” which is an honour obvs.
- The smell. Why the fuck do these places need to stink? It’s a heady mixture of disappointment, feet, shite and stale wotsits
- The Mums – aye, I’m going there. If you’re a mum who sits on their phone ignoring that fact that you’re little arsehole just pushed mine refer to point one – the bold bit. I will trip it up and I will not be sorry. Get off your phone, stop being idle and show a bit of fucking interest.
- The coffee and cake selection (if there is one) is nearly always utter shite
- It’s always sticky, even the bits you don’t expect to be sticky are sticky
- The ball pool harbours sinister secrets. Hidden jobbies, bogies, spew, half chewed raisins and every virus known to man.
Today though, I had to make do with what I had; no fucking energy and a hyper child, so soft play was the only option. To soften the blow a bit I went to the one I’d never been to before; it has just opened at the local Dobbies so my thinking was it would be less germ ridden. Plus it opened at 9 rather that the usual 10am (what fucking good is that to anyone with an early riser?) so it wouldn’t get busy till a bit later. I tell you what; it was alright. It’s a school day obviously, and it only allows under 6’s so the majority of the tiny hooligans weren’t there – I mean there was one but after she pushed Eli the first time I shouted really loudly “push her back Eli” and the Mum soon cottoned on. I sat, with my coffee and Eli ran around mental for an hour and a half. We got home, he ate his lunch and went to sleep no bother at all. Job done innit – the morning was a success.
Right then so just the afternoon to get through – as luck would have it I’d arranged to meet one of Eli’s wee nursery pals at ANOTHER soft play. Not on his own, I’m not a weirdo – his mum was obviously coming n all and I’m right fond of them both. This soft play though – well it was shite. Both the boys thought it was shite and refused to play for any length of time without trying to drag one of us in to make them feel less like they were going to plummet to their death. I’m not sure if you’ve ever seen someone with M.E. in a soft play – imagine someone who looks like they’ve shat themselves, has downed a litre of vodka and has vertigo all at the same time and you’re not far off. After I had rescued him once I decreed he was on his own. He assessed the situation and decided he wasn’t playing any more, fair enough kid, I understand that. We went outside to the play park bit but I was too fucked to participate really.
I’ve been fucked all day to be fair. I’m STILL paying for Friday and I was so so tempted to bail this afternoon in favour of settling down with these two crazy cats and having a cosy lie down on the couch….. but the sun was shining and Eli wouldn’t have given me peace. Plus I had promised he was going to see his friend and I was looking forward to seeing them both (yes they’re in the sacred circle).
So I went and it passed the time and got us both out. I pushed through it, well not really through it, I’m still in it and I’m already paying. I’m even weaker than I was, I’m in more pain than I was and I want to sleep more than I did…. but days like this are important for me and for Eli; it’s what normal mums do and take for granted and I want that for us. Christiaan has taken tomorrow off and then the wee man is in nursery Wednesday to Friday so the hardest graft of the week is done; I can sleep and rest from here on in. It’s not about me being heroic; you have no choice when you have a toddler – they don’t understand illness and if I have my way Eli never will.
I did have a low point when I came home, I crashed big style and couldn’t really speak properly. Christiaan asking me what I wanted to do for tea resulted in tears because I could get neither my brain nor my mouth to function – I hate feeling out of control like that. There’s nothing crueller than not being able to articulate, or even think of what you want to say, and it happens all to often during when I’m as bad as I have been these last few weeks – it’s the bit that embarrasses me more than the rest.
I had one more thing to do before I collapsed for the night though; go to fat club. I wanted to stay home but, if I did that, I’d never have known the fruits of my labour on a really tough week and I’m chuffed to fuck that I went because….
I DID IT! 2.5lb off this week which means I’ve lost 3 mother fucking stones in weight. Now that is something to celebrate innit? So how am I celebrating it? Well I’ve ordered a Chinese and I’m writing to you lot aint I because how else would I? All night fucking party?
Yes I am under a blanket in this heat and yes I know I look pale – I am smiling (kind of) though because a hard day has ended in real high – 2.5lb less to drag up and down the fucking stairs yeeeehaaaaa!
Now though, I need to shut down, I’m properly goosed.
- I’m less fat than I was last week
- I found an alright soft play
- I spent some time with one of my favourite wee dudes beside Eli and his lovely Mum
- I made it through the day and I’m pretty sure Eli enjoyed it
- Chinese for dinner – omnomnom
- Tears – I rarely cry, today was shit
- General health is fucking awful
- Shitty soft play
- What’s on the menu Mellars? Well it’s Monday so:
- Toast for brekkie WHITE BREAD I HEART YOU
- No lunch because the white bread fills me up for 12 years now
- Dinner – Chinese and a Snickers ❤
- Back on plan tomorrow morning to lose more flab