Sometimes your day as mum goes a little like this:
1am baby 2 is stirring for a feed and the dummy is just not cutting it so up I get, feed baby, wind baby,change baby, put baby back to bed. Baby is then sick all over the Moses basket, baby grow and vest! Effin reflux. So I change baby again put baby back to bed, again, and its now 2something am. Lovely.
5am baby 2 wants another feed, I feed baby, wind baby, change baby, put baby back to bed, lie awake for 20 minutes in case baby is sick and eventually doze off.
8am baby 1 is crying to let me know she’s awake and wants out of the prison cot and she wants out NOW. I Glance at baby 2 as I get up, turns out he was sick, all over the baby grow. FFS.
Ok it’s 8am (feels like 5) so I can no longer go back to bed (which just feels wrong) and the day has to start. We have 2 things to do, go to the bank and go to baby group – NOT the busiest schedule I admit, so I’m feeling optimistic.
9am breakfast down, time to shower, bath and dress myself and both babies. Baby 1 however has got other ideas and seems to have forgotten that they have cut the cord, super gluing herself to my side. If I dare try to put her down she lifts her legs into the genie position so she can’t be put onto her feet, if I try sitting her down on the floor and she planks and screams. Its going to be a long a day.
After being stared at as I shower and chasing baby 1 around the top floor of the house to clothe her. We are washed and dressed ready to go out by 10.30 – we need to be back for 12 after all. So I start to load the babies into the pram and baby 2 is sick all down my back. Arrggghh. Both babies and I trundle back upstairs to get changed.
10.45. We’re out en route to the bank. Hurrah. Now I checked the forecast, no rain it told me. So I wear my small, not hooded coat and do not take the rain cover. Stupid I know, but I was rushing and foolishly trusted the forecasters. I know I can’t believe I did that either. Anyway, it starts to rain as we’re out. FML. Fortunately the pram is designed in such away that with some clever positioning of my extra long scarf no babies get wet. Me on the other hand, different story, I’m absolutely soaked but by time I get home baby 1 has fallen asleep. There is a god, perhaps the sleep will do her good and she’ll wake up in a better mood…
12.20pm, baby 1 wakes up and baby group is at 1 – I am determined to make it and not spend the afternoon stuck inside with a surgically attached baby. My naive hopes that she will wake up happier are dashed she is just as delightful as she was before she went sleep. We just have time for a lunch, but again baby 1 is not playing by my rules. She has decided she doesn’t like lasagne (although she ate it last night) she doesn’t want beans, toast, waffles anything I put in front of her basically. Although my broccoli and Stilton soup is a must apparently and she decides she’ll have that instead. Whatever. Food is food.
1.10pm we made it, we’re at baby group. Hallelujah. I start to load both babies from the car into the pram to discover baby 2 has pooed through his clothes. Great. Just great. I change baby 2 for the umpteenth time today and head on in. Baby group was nice and relatively uneventful – which is mum talk for heavenly! Apart from baby 1 trying to steal some nice girl’s quavers…
3pm we get home and the way I see it we’ve got about two hours to kill play. Expect baby 1 doesn’t want to play. She doesn’t want to sit my lap and she doesn’t want to be put down. She doesn’t even want a bloody biscuit. WTF?! What she does want to do however is walk around the room with a forlorn look on her face moaning or poke her brothers eyes out. Baby 2 isn’t overly pleased with the situation either and sits in his baby bouncer casting a judgemental eye on the situation and grumbling in disapproval. When I take him out of the chair to include him in all the ‘fun’ we’re having baby 1 decides to kiss him endlessly. Sweet I know, until she tries to pull his eyeballs out – no leaving the room for me then.
5pm baby 1s dinner time. She does now like lasagne – pasta only, no meat, obviously. Against my better judgement I allow her to have a small cupcake for dessert. I turn my attention to making dinner for the OH and I only to look back and find she has tipped her water onto the cupcake to make some kind of cake paste that she has painted her high chair and self with, not to mention the 3zillion crumbs on the floor. Seriously. So I clean the floor and the baby and burn dinner in the process. The day just keeps getting better.
6pm Daddy’s home dinner is on the table neither baby 1 or baby 2 give a shit about this and do everything in their power to make sure we do not eat a hot dinner at any leisurely pace whatsoever. And why should we, we are to serve at the beck and call of our babies- and they know it! Knowledge is power people. That’s how it feels at any rate.
7.30pm it’s bedtime! For baby 1 at least. Baby 2 doesn’t yet have any kind of routine. Bedtime is in keeping with the theme of the day. A struggle. But we get there and I finally crawl into my bed for my bedtime at 10.30. After an evening of tidying, cleaning and attending to baby 2. Not even a glass of wine in sight.
So yes children are amazing, a gift, the best thing ever blah blah blah they are also exhausting, frustrating and bloody hard work, and it’s OK to admit that. Adults can also be exhausting, frustrating and bloody hard work, but adults know better (apparently), they have been taught the lessons we try to teach our children and the appropriate way to behave. Our babies our children on the other hand are still finding all this out and are going to be pain in the ass as they learn. So, time to get some sleep people because tomorrow we do it all again, or in 3-4 hours for me.