Saturday 6th of May 2018
What an utterly, utterly smashin day…. and actually the remainder of last night was great too. I guess I should start there first because it’s kind of like the foreplay that lead up to today I think.
After all Eli’s carry on yesterday lunch time about needing a muzzy to go to sleep we decided to approach things differently last night at bed time. Everything got pushed back in terms of our normal routine; he had his dinner later, his story time later and his bed time later and as a result he was fucking knackered when we finally put him into bed. He was not arsed in the slightest about a muzzy and was happy to cuddle in with Pumpkin instead. Pumpkin is a toy dog by the way and for those of you who have not yet been, nor ever plan to be, inflicted by tiny angry irrational dwarves; I’ll explain what a muzzy is. It’s a muslin cloth, not to be confused with Muslim’s – entirely different sort of relationship there. If Eli tried to roll around, throw, or bite a Muslim instead of going to sleep he’d have a sore arse; yes I’m alright with smacking kids arses – call the social. So anyway, he has dozens of these because he constantly has niagra falls cascading from his gob, either in saliva form, or when he was tiny in milk form. He got into using them as comforters because one of “the girls” (Ellen you lovely woman) suggesting they cured every ailment in babies; she was right. It stops him crying, it’s a play thing, it can be used as bribery, it’s a miracle worker…. but he’s getting to that age where having a comforter needs to be phased out. He’s a big lad for his age so when he’s carrying around a baby cloth it just looks odd, I don’t want him to be one of those weirdo’s who is in his 40’s and can’t sleep without his blankie. Bigger boys will kick his balls in if they found out, so we need to try and get him off it permanently.. at some point.
It’s not really been the right time though; bed times with Eli have been pretty fraught over the last wee while to be honest. He’ll happily go upstairs to his room, read books and actually go into bed but getting him to sleep has been a pain in the hole. After a shitty start in the first 18 months we’d gotten used to just dumping him in his bed and going back downstairs – he’d fall asleep when he was ready, often after a wee sing song to himself but rarely got upset (after we got him used to the routine, that is, it was fucking hellish before that). In the last month or so though he’s clearly grown a few extra brain cells and realised we’ll come back up to him if he drops his muzzy and is upset, fucks around being a twat, or gets stuck in the duvet – every kid does it I think though. Not get stuck in the duvet, I think I’ve got the only 3ft twit that does that, but kids find ways of staying awake, or not going to bed; I was expecting it. What I hadn’t really thought about was the impact of a toddler who is permanently overtired as a result; because he doesn’t sleep any later if he goes to bed later, he just gets less sleep – he’s a contrary little fucker.
Someone was smiling down on us last night though because he went to sleep no trouble at all. He stayed asleep all night and fuck me did he not almost, ALMOST make it till the Gro Fuck Yourself Clock was ready to bring up the sunshine before asking to get up. Last night was the easiest it has been in a good wee while and because we’d all eaten together at 5 rather than Christiaan and I trying to eat after we’d put him to bed it meant, we were done for the night. There was no meal to finish cooking, or eat, no washing up to do, and we were able to sit and actually chat, AND watch a film before I disappeared to bed. Normally we try and cram our dinner down our necks while desperately trying to ignore Eli twatting around through the monitor – it’s not a relaxing state of affairs and an hour after that I’m yawning my chops off and can’t speak anymore; we rarely get the chance to talk or even watch a full telly program before I fuck off upstairs. So it was lovely for both of us and we’ve decided that early dinners are the way forward. We’ll eat together when we can and whatever we’re eating will be on Eli’s plate too for him to try – he can take it or leave it. It sounds the way it should have always been but when you’ve had a wee one with severe acid reflux, who gets up at the screech of day it’s not an easy thing to pull off. We’ve been muddling along in the best routine for Eli rather than what’s right for all of us.
So, a relaxed evening, a full nights sleep and awake at 5.40 rather than 4 something – it was an improvement. The sun was already up and although not as warm up here as That England it was cracking day. I was looking forward to a leisurely start to the morning with lots of tea and sitting down. Eli on the other hand, was fucking mental. Literally swinging from the roof kind of mental so there was only one thing for it – get to the park and run him till he dropped. First though, I had decided that I was going in for Mum of the Year 2018 and that he WOULD help me make pancakes and then actually EAT some of the fuckers. He was alright twatting around with flour and baking powder, a bit wary of the raw egg and milk and freaked the fuck out by the electric whisk. He shat himself and starting hiding and screaming “scary Mummy” but I’d already committed to a lumpless batter so…. fuck him, he’d just need to ride it out for a minute.
Christiaan came out of the shower after rinsing yesterdays brown shitey water off (the water was brown most of the day after that fucked pipe) and sat down to some pancakes with the fruit of our loins. Eli chose chocolate spread, Christiaan had golden syrup and I… well I had fruit and fucking yoghurt.
Note to self: Nutella laden American style pancakes do not help with a hyper toddler.
I tell you what though, I was beyond happy that I was able to get up and function like a normal mum this morning because a lot of mornings I just can’t. Being able to even remember how to make pancakes was a huge bonus and to have Eli even partially invested in the whole experience made me feel all maternal and shit. It was nice.
I was desperate to get out though, not to B & fucking Q, or my mum and dads, or Sainsbo’s but actually OUT. I really needed fresh air today, I felt like I needed to feel the sun on my face before it got all burney. I pumped myself full of painkillers, got showered and dressed and after a brief rest I was ready to go. Today isn’t a day I could walk too far though, even the normal short route round the park would have finished me off so we took the wee mans ball, and did one stretch of the woodland walk there and back. There are benches and walls for me to perch on along the way and Christiaan and Eli could run and play with ball while I rested – it was ideal. I know I show you pics of this park all the time but you’ll need to suck it up because it’s better than pics of B & Q and really… that’s my only other haunt at the minute.
I think we were walking for only about 20 minutes in total but spent an hour or so there and it was really really lovely. Eli saw many many squirrels (as pictured), spoke to dozens of dogs including two massive Great Danes (he has no fear) and he ran his wee heart out kicking a ball with his Daddy. It was perfect. I had to stop and rest a few times and had my big stupid fucking sun glasses on to stop my eyes from burning but other than that I looked like any other Mum at the park with her husband and wee boy.
We decided to walk over to the play park bit before going back to the car and that was where it turned a bit… uncomfortable. While Eli was playing on the swings a young dad came up with his wee one, put it into the swing next to Eli and started chatting. He must have been about 19/20 maybe? Not the kid, the dad.. fucks sake. Anyway, it went like this:
- Me: At them “Awww look she’s loving that, is she on her feet yet?” as he pushed the swing faster
- Young Dad: “It’s a boy” filthy look “HE’S just started walking”
- Christiaan: Looks like he wants to die
Not a good start that, but it went downhill from there. To be fair to me, his kid was dressed really gender neutral in a white tshirt and navy leggings; it could have been fucking anything.
- Me: “Oh sorry, different ball game when they’re mobile aint it?”
- Young Dad: ignores me and looks at Christiaan “It’s his first birthday today, I’m trying to tire him out before his party later”
- Me: “happy birthday wee man”
- Young Dad: Aye, it’ll be good.” Looks at Eli “Would he not get changed out of his jammas?”
Isn’t parenthood marvellous? It’s like one big nest of competition, his wee boy/girl/whatever the fuck it wants to be was dressed really nicely in navy and white and he was obviously judging us because Eli looks like a unicorn has jizzed all over him. You know what? I’m alright with that, I know what I put Eli in isn’t everyone’s style but despite the uncomfortable undertone it just shows you how society is knitted together on first impressions; I had his clocked as a girl, he had ours clocked as a mess. We were both wrong. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let on he had said anything potentially outlandish in case he genuinely thought that Eli was in his jammas and wasn’t being rotten, so I went with “He always looks like he’s been in a fight with Crayola” and left it at that instead of shouting WELL YOURS LOOKS LIKE A FUCKING GIRL AND I CAN NEARLY SEE YOUR ARSEHOLE – PULL YOUR FUCKING JEANS UP CHILD, because, you know, I’m not bitter.
So anyway, we got Eli back, had an argument with him about sandwiches again (standard), settled on half the brioche roll (with jam on) and a bowl of soup and got him down for his nap… with a fucking muzzy…. and Pumpkin the teddy. I’d probably have given him vodka at this point if he’d asked – I was knackered, more knackered than he was it would seem because I kept nodding off and every time my head bobbed me awake again I’d look down and see the creepy little fucker staring at me intently. It was pretty unnerving. Eventually I won, he fell asleep and I put him in bed and tottered downstairs to start this afternoons activities.
There’s been some work rolling over the weekend that Christiaan needed to get involved with today so I knew that from 4ish I was on my own getting Eli fed, bathed and bedded and I needed to get prepared. I chucked some bolognaise on for dinner and decided I couldn’t go back “out out” today, whatever laddo and I were doing when he got up from his nap was going to have to be within the confines of our own house or garden. It had really warmed up round lunch time so there was nowt else for it; I got out the paddling pool and built up different play areas in the garden for him – including a mother fucking dinosaur island! Yes I have turned into an actual Pinterest Mum! Me! Who fucking knew? Tell you what though, he loved it. He went between all of it playing but his favourite was mostly the paddling pool, with Daddy before he went to work – he was “swimming” apparently ❤ . I even managed to get some sun on my skin! Not for long mind, because I was freezing and also because I needed to be in the shade for my eyes, but it was enough and it blew the cobwebs off my bingo wings…. and their double chins.
It would appear that my wanky, concrete, split levelled, weedy garden can actually be useful to us all which is great news. It’ll be even better when we’ve put weed killer down and got the new furniture out – hopefully next week. Just in time for the rain.. obvs
So it’s been a really good day….. and you and I both know there’s going to be a but, so here it is…but I’m knackered and I’m sore, and I’ve had to have more painkillers that I would have liked today but fuck it, I’ve loved today. I’ve managed, at my own pace, to have a really wholesome day with my two favourites and I know that Eli really benefited.
If every day was like today I’d be chuffed to bits but even getting one once in a blue moon is enough to keep my heart happy.
Fucking love a bank holiday I do.
- An absolutely cracking day
- Eli loves his new paddling pool
- He’s gone to bed chattering about what we’ve done today and who we’ve seen; I was right, he’s enjoyed it as much as we have
- No muzzy at bed time hooray!
- The fucking usual but at least it didn’t overshadow the day too much
- The bolognaise wasn’t great after a bad decision on my part to add the left over pork mince from burger night to the beef mince… it was too… meaty. I’ll not be doing it again
- No gardening done again, even though we were sat it in it all afternoon; I was just too knackered
If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.
- Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
- Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
- When are the grown ups coming?
- Major surgery…again?
- You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?
#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum