One of the hardest parts about being a parent is that no matter what mood you wake up in, how tired you are or how sick you are, you’ve got to plod on as normal. Kids literally do not give a shit and still expect to be waited on hand and foot.
I’m rarely so ill that it requires a sick day but these past couple of days it has taken all my energy just to get out of bed. Unfortunately, unlike pre-baby days, I can’t just lie in bed all day, wallowing in my own self pity in my jamas and drinking Lemsip. I have a child to dress and feed and entertain.
Luckily, my lurgy has landed on nursery days so all I have to do is get M up and dressed before his dad drops him off on his way to work. A rare treat and my God am I embracing it. I’ve been sleeping in til midday, I feel like a student again. Is this what it feels like to be free?
But unfortunately, his dad doesn’t get home from work in time to pick him up so yesterday I had to put my face on and get him myself. I always try and suck up to him – suck up to a 2 year old ffs, taking him little treats and shit hoping he’ll think “my mum has really tried today, I’ll be kind” but he absolutely never thinks that, he can sense my fear and weakness.
I took his little Scuttle Bug trike thing for him to ride home from nursery. He usually makes me carry him but I nearly passed out at the thought, he was delighted at this novelty so I thought I was on to a winner. Our usual 15 minute walk home took about 45 minutes, he thought he was piss funny crashing into every single thing we passed, reversing and crashing again, toppling off in the middle of a main road and shouting at me for helping and scuttling away faster than I could run after him. It was a bloody nightmare and even he thought so and climbed off 10 minutes from home and refused to walk.
He lay on the pavement screaming and kicking his legs making an absolute scene. I’m mortified thinking about it. I didn’t have the strength to carry him and his trike so I just sat next to him waiting for him to calm down. I sat on the actual pavement. This is what he does to me. Cars and passers by even stopped asking if he was OK. He probably looked like he was having a fit, I told them he’s just having a tantrum and I don’t have enough hands to drag him and all his shit home.
One thing I love about M is he doesn’t discriminate. Whether I’m on my death bed or not, he’ll still shout at me for trying to cuddle him and demand I make him porridge at 6 am. God love him.
So right now, I’m enjoying my last couple of hours of peace before I head out and do it all again. Minus that fucking Scuttle Bug.