Thursday, 22 December 2016

A Child-Free Afternoon.

Today, we trekked up to London for a Christmas Toddler Party. I thought I had to stay with Elliot the whole time, so when we turned up and all the other parents waved goodbye at the door and ran for the hills I was a bit surprised. I had a child-free afternoon thrust upon me. I hadn't even brought my book with me, I was a bit lost.

Well, I wasted it.

I wandered around trying to find something to do. I walked around and around, witnessed a fight between two blokes with broomsticks, got the tube just to have somewhere to sit down and generally missed pushing a pushchair around. I panicked and bought a place mat that looks like a monster truck for £3, it was a very strange time.

I treated myself to a couple of go's up an escalator, instead of in the lift. And I wandered around a bit more, before sitting outside a coffee shop for a really disappointing salted caramel latte. It was genuinely crap, I'm really sad I didn't just deal with the Starbucks queue. The most exciting thing I did was to go to Liberty and laugh at a jug that looked like a melon and a child's dress that cost £48.

I had a child-free afternoon, three days before Christmas, and the only things I bought were ridiculously expensive Blaze and the Monster Machines merchandise from the Nickolodeon shop and a shitty coffee.

from a definitely not child-free afternoon. Better coffee though.

I just generally missed Elliot being there. Watch me eat those words tomorrow when he's swinging from the lampshades and screaming about how this is going to be the "BEST CHRISTMAS EVER" but I genuinely did miss having my tiny best friend wheeling around with me, trying to eat my shadow and forcing me to do my dragon impression embarassingly loud in public.

Next time, remind me to take my book so I don't get all soppy like this. It's late, it's Christmas, I'm all emotional. And my legs really hurt (I really did walk around quite a lot. Goodnight.)

Friday, 16 December 2016

The Bad Mum Club.

Today, I finally accepted my invitation to the Bad Mum Club. It's a prestigious club, where you can only get when you've really fucked things up. Today was a complete fuck up. And it all started with me googling the norovirus last night panicking that I was getting ill.

look at the pink-ness of my skin here. I am not that colour today. RIP me.

This morning, I couldn't stand up without almost fainting. I say almost fainting, I had to dive back into bed (shouting at Elliot to MOVE PLEASE MUMMY NEEDS TO LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW) before I actually hit the floor. I had fuzzy ears and everything. Elliot sat in my bed with me laying there crying about whether I was ill or not, reading book after book after book until my mum finally took pity on me and took him downstairs.

Disclaimer: yes, I still live at home with my parents. Yes, I really did take advantage of that today and I've told my mum I love her more today than I have in probably the past five years. She missed Christmas Jumper Day at work for me and my jippy tummy. So much love for that woman.

Anyway, I've already cried in bed whilst Elliot read me Mr Tumble books. Then I managed to get downstairs, whilst actually looking like a Japanese horror character. I'm terrified of films like The Ring and The Grudge so imagine my fucking reaction when I look in the mirror and I'm deathly pale apart from the massive dark circles under my eyes. Sheer terror, that's what.

Other highlights from my day consist of: Elliot demanding to make me better by using his "doctor stuff" and wanting to syringe plastic medicine into my mouth but me not being able to bear it. He had to pretend to put a cannula in his own mother. Then he listened to my heart and told me "it not good, you need lie down." So I promptly fell asleep for a nap whilst my mum fed him. He decided that I needed a pillow over my face to sleep and plopped one on top of me. I slept under that pillow for a good hour. Woke up and "...has this pillow been here long then?"

The afternoon quickly turned into absolute chaos, I let him empty all the cars over the floor and they lined up for a race that never happened. Translate to: like fuck was I getting on the floor to be a Monster Machine. We honestly played the game "Mummy's Phone Has Disappeared Say Abracadabra And It Might Come Back" at least twenty times and in the end I reverted back to my old saviour, Cartoonito.

I'm proud to say I cooked him dinner, even though I was absolutely exhausted and had to have assistance mashing potatoes. It's hard work, okay. So I sat Elliot down for his dinner, coaxing him as usual to actually eat and not just stare at the wall/ceiling/telly and I fell asleep. The Bad Mum Club opened their arms and welcomed me in as I fell asleep watching my son eat mashed potato. The worst bit? He didn't even bloody notice! I woke up half an hour later, because I'd snored myself awake and he was still sitting there - still hadn't eaten any pissing mashed potato may I add! And it was nearly 7pm. Terrible work.

So, as you can guess from this massive self-deprecating rant, it's been a shit day. My mum, Fireman Sam and dry bread saved it. I count it as a complete write off, which hasn't actually happened since Elliot was about 13 months old and I had to call my mum home from work because I was being sick into a bowl whilst sitting on the toilet and Elliot had thrown rice pudding up all over himself.

Worst bit is the dinnertime nap I had has completely fucked up my early night, so I'm sat here moping all over it again! Ugh, bring on tomorrow.

Thursday, 8 December 2016

Things No-one Tells You: The Toddler Edition

So, the Internet is now rife with posts of "things no-one tells you about having a baby! including just how many people you invite to stare into your foofoo, how your boobs turn into full on rocks and how sometimes you just feel like you're going to smell like old breast milk for the rest of your life.

Now I know all this, it's all old hat. And I have no secrets any more, I will tell you in detail about leaking boobs and shotgun poo and all sorts. Mate, you want to know what it's like to be stitched up in your downstairs cupboard, I'll draw you a diagram. Well, I probably won't as that is a bit gross. But I'll make sure you're all fully clued up before you go pushing anything out of yourself.

BUT. There is legitimately something new to learn every day. Elliot's three in less than a month, and every day I have an "oh shit" moment when I realise something new.

  • Preschool is serious business. I walked in today after Elliot having a week off to discover they do Christmas cards. I  immediately went into panic mode, because what if he ends up like Ralph Wiggum and the only card he gets is a sympathy one from me? I'm surely panicking over nothing. Right? These kids can't even read, they won't know.
  • Nothing is more interesting than a cafe. Elliot is a man with a plan. And that plan is normally for a cake. Whether it's Sainsbury's, ASDA or his personal favourite, Costa, he loves sitting down with a book (normally Mickey Mouse) and a big window to watch some buses going past whilst I get to drink a coffee. I know he probably needs more stimulation but dammit, if he's happy with a muffin and the 96 to Woolwich going past every ten minutes, then so am I! (I also really like the honeycomb lattes in Costa but that's by the by really I'd say!)
  • They can still squeeze out a poo on the sly. We went for a walk the other day, and Elliot waited until I was trying to take a picture of a good sunset and quickly squeezed a turd out into his pull up. We're really giving the whole potty training lark a good punt still, but obviously sometimes you'd rather waddle through a housing estate than go on your perfectly good potty. That I lug around all day for your obvious amusement. *eye roll emoji*
  • HAHA, you thought the screaming was bad when they were little? You are having a fucking laugh. Elliot screamed so loudly the other day the entire shop turned to look at us. (We'd been to the toilet, and I'd had the audacity to wash his hands. His sleeves got wet. Cue absolute hysteria.) I had to peel his Christmas jumper off him and blow on it to get it dry to make the screaming stop. Because the hand dryer in the toilets made him shout LOUDER. And then, after all this, his arms were a bit damp from where the sleeves had got wet. Jesus, some people have it lucky compared to this.
  • They're now big enough to hurt. This happened this evening, Elliot slapped me full on in the face with both hands and the evening took a quick turn from preparing for a bath to a complete shit storm. He even pissed himself he screamed so much. And if I'm honest, my cheeks stung so much my eyes watered. *eye roll emoji again*

a little pic of 2 years ago to reminisce his blossoming modelling career.

He's three soon, and it's a whole new world and I'm a little bit excited, a little bit dreading it. As he gets older, the baby literally melts out of his face. Timehop told me he's been wearing shoes for 2 years today. I mean..what the hell?! Don't in any way take this for me being broody though. Remember I had mastitis twice, I'm not walking back down that road lightly.