Butterfly meltdowns, new friends and insomnia ❤️

Sunday 29th July 2018

Fucking raining innit? Now I know some of you will be rejoicing; out there with your saggy knockers swinging back and forward between your toes, and others will be cursing the lack of sun but well, I’ve got mixed views on it all if I’m honest. My inner pensioner is delighted because “the garden needs it” – it’s as dry as a nuns chuff out there and everything I spent ages planting and looking after is looking all aggravated by the heat. My inner teenager, however, is a bit mardy because damp weather fucking sucks and in amongst those two personalities is my very outward facing parental side who is wondering what the fuck is IN that rain that turns my child feral. Is it raining bastard Skittles?

We needed weather friendly options today so were supposed to be high tailing it over to my mum and dads for dinner later… buuuuuuut bollockchops has blown chunks and is acting weird, and my mum gets floored by every illness going so we’re doing the responsible thing and steering clear; especially as Christiaan has now begun to sound like dead Phylis off of Coronation Street and is looking peakier than normal. This is the house of the ill – paint a bastard cross on our door.

We have been out today though, before the drama arrived. We foolishly thought we could do a lovely thing. We’re fucking idiots to be fair. There’s a Butterfly World not too far away and we presumed that Eli would love it so we decided, really last minute actually that we would give it a go. Turns out Eli wasn’t arsed about beautiful fucking butterflies and much prefers to be a screamier, less reasonable version of Kim Jong Un playing pass the parcel. In fact, all he wanted to do when we got in was run in an out the see through flap things that separated each part of the over rated greenhouse that we’d just paid the better part of £20 to get into. Flaps, my child loves flaps. Ironic really seeing as he did everything he could to avoid mine during pregnancy by staying the wrong way up for 9 fucking months – we ended up with a c section because he really didn’t want to be anywhere near my flaps and I’m not sure whether I should take it personally…..

He was mildly amused by the miniature chickens for approximately 11 seconds, and then twatted around with my walking stick for a bit looking like a poor mans midget pole dancer… so I guess that’s value for money. The pics look like we had a special time mind, so we’ll just pass that off as the truth and no fucker will ever know. Well except the last one, where Eli looks like he’s chewing a wasp and Christiaan and I should be sectioned. Welcome to Instagram life everyone – it’s fucking rosey ❤️🤩

So, we drove 45 mins to spend 20 minutes in a greenhouse with a tiny screaming fucking Hitler and then drove 45 minutes home again. He cried because he dropped his crisps in the car on the way home and then cried even harder because we’d not let him buy the EXACT fucking same box of plastic animal shit in the gift shop, and THEN he cried because there were no sharks. No sharks at a butterfly farm – who’d have thought it?

On the plus side though, he didn’t piss. We’d put a pull up on him because we knew it was a longish time to be away from a bog but it was bone dry when we got home and he actually ASKED to go pee when we got home. OK so he waited until I was trying to get him to sleep to ask, and I agree that it completely interrupted the flow of nap time and yes, ultimately it did mean that he dodged the fucking nap all together, but we’d had such a lovely morning already I couldn’t wait to spend more time with him. Come onnnnnnn, who wouldn’t want to spend more time with a tiny psycho threatening to piss on you or everything you own?

He’s done alright with this potty the last two days actually which was a relief because when I went to collect him from nursery on Friday he physically shat himself. Literally I walked in, he shouted “Mummy” and then grabbed his arse as the mole approached the counter.  Now, it’s a tricky situation that because who is in charge of cleaning the shite up? Technically I pay for him to be there until closing. So the shite? Well it was on there time. I was still a free woman. Luckily they agreed and when the arse boulder became obvious to a few others the situation was  quickly taken out of my hands;  he was whisked off to the toilet but his key worker and promptly cleaned up. It was fucking everywhere. I know this because Eli clearly wondered if he’d marked his card by shitting all over the place and kicked off thinking I was about to just go home again. He’s not as daft as he makes out to be fair, he knows shitting his pants is not a boundary I feel comfortable breaching. I did my doting mum bit though and accompanied them to the bog and watched while someone else dealt with my child shit.  I helpfully gave instructions to chuck the pants… there was no fucking way I was getting in a car with those and even less chance they were coming into the house to get washed. No, the shite can stay there thanks, I’m alright with writing off a pair of Hey Duggee pants – it will not keep me awake at night.  It was a beast of a shite n all – those girls deserve medals, if for no other reason than they saved me from parenting for a minute.

I was relieved not to have to deal with it to be honest because the excitement of Thursdays Blue Peter Badge assessment caught up with me on Friday and I wasn’t fit for very much. I had a new friend visit me at home. She also has M.E. – we met thanks to this blog actually, and we spent the majority of the afternoon in the garden eating fruit and bemoaning the world while planning various get rich quick schemes.  Turns out we’re both pretty much shite at realistically planning our own fortune… so it’s lottery or bust. Its always nice but also rubbish to find someone who has the same condition; you don’t want to wish this on anyone else but it definitely makes you feel less like you’re on your own with it all. It’s pretty difficult for most people to understand and its a relief to know that I don’t need to say very much at all for her to get exactly what I mean.

I had a right relaxing Friday night planned, jammas on early, and bed by 9 and it was all going well until Eli decided sleep was for the weak. He was up from 1.30am till nearly 4. I tried everything to get him back to sleep but he wasn’t for it. I still have no fucking idea what was wrong with him, possible outrage that someone else had dealt with his turd, or this new fucking moon… whatever it was, it was a right pain in the arse. It meant that Saturday was a lot harder than it should have been, because not only was I a bit fucked from the excitement of the assessment but I was actual normal knackered n all.  As with all of these kind of nights, it happened when I needed it not to. One of “the girls” (the mums from the Facebook page I’m on… you know, the one where they kids were mostly all born in September 2015 like Eli? The ones that all shagged at the same time!) was up from near London for work in Edinburgh and EasyJet, being the utter twats that they are had cancelled her flight. Not only her flight but 500 other peoples – for reasons unknown and there were no other seats on flights until Sunday. She has a wee one the same age as Eli (obviously) and another young lad, both of which were home alone with her husband. She’d managed to sort accommodation by begging mercy with her work contacts but she was stranded on the outside of a city she didn’t really know with none of the essentials you need. I’d never met her before but she always comes as lovely on the page so I was keen to help. I put my pants on over my trousers ala SuperWoman and went to get her to, what was probably a worse place than she’d been; the madness that is our home. I so wanted to be the effervescent hostess but I fear I came across a bit like a wet fart because my brain was all foggy. To be its probably a better representation of my actual personality, I’m dull. Suck it up fuckers. As suspected though, she IS lovely and I had a really good afternoon just chatting and spending time with her AND Eli actually behaved while she was here so at the very least, I’ve fooled her into thinking that my boy is an angel and I have shit under control. Winner…. I’m going to the burny burny fire.

So, that’s two days that I’ve had really lovely company and I know it’s making you feel all warm inside “Awww Mellars, that’s lovely, I’m chuffed you’ve had a good couple of days”. You’d be partly right. The company was great, I loved every minute of having each of my friends around me but, BUT there is always a price to pay as you know, and being “switched on” for 2 days has kicked me in the chops. Last night I was in agony and desperate to get to bed… so I took myself off. I cuddled into bed enjoying the cooler temperature and the smell of my fresh bedding and waited to fall asleep as normal. At near on half eleven I was STILL awake. I have no fucking idea why because every fibre of my body and brain was exhausted but I just couldn’t sleep.  I could have cried. Insomnia is a relative new thing for me but is something that’s fairly common with M.E. from what I understand. There is fuck all you can do. You’re awake when you need to be asleep. You know it, your body knows it but your brain…. it’s got distracted by a turd covered in glitter and is currently singing the macarena while trying to spell onomatopoeia. I phoned down to Christiaan just after 11ish; he was up killing zombies or summit and asked him to bring me a cuppa in bed, if I was awake I may as well have a cosy drink filled with caffeine (clearly going to help) and watch some violent Mexican cartel drama on Netflix. It’s the only logical way to get to sleep obvs; violence and caffeine.  Now bearing in mind I was missing 3 hours from the night before it should have been a piece of piss to drop off. It wasn’t. It was almost 4am when I fell asleep and Eli was up at half six. I’ve had under 3 hours sleep and I’m still running on empty from last week. I’m fucked, I’m really fucked.

I desperately need to sleep tonight, not just for the normal side of me but the M.E. side of me is so much harder when I don’t get the sleep I need. It’s a complete kicker so if I manage to make it 3 in a row for party hours, I will be an absolute fucking nightmare tomorrow. That’s bad news for everyone but especially for Eli because he has the pleasure of being in my company on his own allllllllllllllllllll day. Lucky little sod.

You’d best hope I get some rest…. fucks sake.


    • Eli has been doing really well on his potty now. No piss accidents for 2 days and he seems far more relaxed about “his willy”. We do have a bit of an issue in that he keeps fiddling with his knob and I’ve explained the wee wee wont be able to come out if his willy is too happy. What is it with males and their knobs? Leave the fucking thing alone. You’ll go blind.
    • I’ve spent some real quality time with two friends who, until Friday, I’d never met before and it turns out they’re both fucking lovely. 100% strike rate on new friends hooray
    • I drove further than I had in a while yesterday, in about 8 months actually. It was difficult but not impossible… this is v positive news
    • I’ve had a letter from the practice manager acknowledging my complaint at the doctors. I should have a formal response by the 17th of August accordingly to their reply.
    • It’s been a tough week eating wise; I’ve fought the urge to roll in crisps all week but only just. Reasons unknown but possibly related to a period that shouldn’t be here for a fortnight yet but will ultimately turn up whenever the fuck it likes. Either way, I’d happily sell Eli for a twix.
  •  Low lights
    • We’re one pair of pants down. Soiled in the line of duty.
    • Two days of solo parenting ahead and right at this moment in time it seems fairly impossible…. I don’t have great hopes of it being an amazing few days but so long as we both get through the other side I’ll be chuffed
    • Insomnia seems to have kicked in over the last few weeks, it’s rotten and cruel and it can go and fuck itself
    • It’s raining, the garden is happy, my toddler is not. He is not a hardy pup who likes to play in the rain. It melts the precious snow flakes face apparently
    • My carpet really fucking stinks where I spilled that sour cream. Baking soda did fuck all. I may need to set it on fire.
  • What’s on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast –  Raspberries, granola, apple and a yoghurt
    • Lunch – Egg salad with feta and a sprinkling of cayenne – like I had on Thursday, because I had feta left over to use
    • Dinner  – Meatballs and pasta tonight. Rock and roll.

Are you new round here?

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.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum #meblogging


ME Blogger extraordinaire… a bit of a shit one, granted.

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