It might be an epic mama day! I’ve been up since 4am and Ive cleaned the hall and done the laundry. Emptied the dishwasher and almost prepared enough of a full meal to refill it. If only I had managed any of that with any grace!
Instead I griped and cursed and stamped my way through it. Little man has been screaming about one thing or another since his little eyes popped open and neither Big Guy nor I have been doing very well in coping.
I guess the joy is that there is always after nap time. Always tomorrow. Always another chance.
He has a low grade fever. I’ve known that he was probably coming down with something for days but have totally failed to spot it until the DUH! slap-forehead moment when you go…….’Crappiest Mom Award goes to…..ME’
But I managed to find a few bright spots. When the griddle jumped off its hook (I was trying to wedge the pressure cooker on the shelf said hook was attached too) it descended to smash my depressing ‘autumn arrangement’ that happened to be in the good fruit bowl.
Did I mention that by some zany failure in household zoning this all occured on the stairs? No? That was me, on the far side of the baby gate watching glass and heat resistant plastic explode into the downstairs hall. Thank God I believe so fervently in turning the cartoon on BEFORE I do deadly dangerous household chores because the two inch shards that hit the far wall did not hit Little Man.
And now I can stop wondering where to stuff the fruit bowl when its not needed. As in always because any fruit left sitting in it for more than five minutes develops chronic fruit fly. Fruit lives in the fridge! (or toddler tummies) This simultaneously fixed the problem of my inability to be THAT woman. The one with the ‘Artful Fall Arrangement.’ No matter how I dump in the pinecones/faux-berries/autumnal crap assortment it looks like crap. In a bowl. There is no helping it and it is why I failed GCSE Art even with my mothers cheating help. All I could think, having leapt to the hall to grab the immeadiately dangerous bits, was that I didn’t need to worry about that any more… it was all going in the bin.
Relief. Palpable relief followed as my toddler reflected my more cheerful attitude about the mini-disaster. He was patient. He listened. Did I say he was patient? Miracle of Miracles! I got everything hoovered and picked up the stairs and even….. even washed down the walls and rail.
It wasn’t to last though. we both had more tantrums before nap time over the usual things. Nappy changes and if all that would be eaten was high-dollar parmasan. But we survived. We made it to the finish line. To NAP TIME. And I had a monster and something to eat with no-one touching me or yelling BLAST OFF in my ear. We re-load and rearm for the afternoon. But I have cheated and made dinner by pouring good jarred sauce over leftover pork roast and a stray smoked sausage. It’ll simmer all day and taste like I made a marvelous effort with cheats garlic toast and some corn noodles.
And maybe if I can’t cope another minute I’ll walk him up to get him a donut. Because if the donut makes me a bad mommy…… its still saving me from being the worst mummy of all. The one that cant manage another second. And its not like he won’t one day say…..’ I wish my mother gave me less donuts and yelled more!’ The walk will do us good.
raisingthesmiths 