Readers you may know that I spent the first 22 years of my life in the City of Bristol. Despite its west country ‘farmer’ accent, it is a city. I was not, contrary to Mr Tammy’s belief raised amongst the cows and chickens. Instead I spent my youth going in and out of a busy city centre. I did have a field behind my house but it’s not as nice as it sounds and a farm it does not make.
Also I have a confession, I am not really an animal fan. They kind of scare me if I am honest. When I say animals, I mean all the animals, cats, dogs, sheep, horses, hamsters – all the animals. I also don’t particularly like seeing animals confined or penned in so farms aren’t really for me. Yet life is no longer about me as I have children and my days are about keeping them happy and entertained.
So in a bid to be super-mum and keep in with the theme of living and not just surviving I decided to take my kids to the farm. After first attending our local baby and toddler group. Yuhuh doing the double.
So I have been to said farm before, in the summer I might add, and my face looked a bit like this ..
… Yeah like I said animals are not really my thing and the thought of feeding them didn’t sit too well with me and yes the toddler was braver than me. Oh and yes I am wearing flip flops – at the farm.
Nonetheless we returned and I put my big girl shoes on and acted incredibly nonchalant about the whole thing.
Firstly, it’s November and despite the sunshine it was bloody baltic. I wrapped the kids up pretty well but couldn’t say the same for myself. Fail number 1.
Yeah it was cold but also rainy of late so a logical person would put their child in wellies. Nope not this city mama who lacks the foresight of what the farm actually entails. Muddy shoes all round then. Fail number 2.
It didn’t take long before I realised the farm probably isn’t the place for us. The big girl clearly follows in her mothers footsteps and was none too impressed with the situation. When I say unimpressed I mean scared shitless. We were stood teetering on the edge of the goat house when she spotted a cat, a friggin cat. The cat dared to walk past (it was still a good 3 feet away) and my god the scream and panic in her voice and she ran to grab hold of my legs and hide. So the farm probably wasn’t going to be the family fun bonding day I had in mind. Fail number 3. They’re coming thick and fast eh.
After lots of, ‘ooh look its a goat, no don’t worry it’s a nice goat, it won’t hurt you’ and ‘Ohh look Zara do you want to feed the sheep, the sheep needs his lunch and he’s hungry, would you like to help me? He’s a nice sheep’ I didn’t make any headway. This was as close as she got to feeding the sheep… (which incidentally I did not care for either). Fail number 4.
We did a trek around the rest of the animals. We saw horses, she didn’t care for those, she did however muster a wave. As did the boy, although he was half asleep and half frozen in the pram. We saw an owl, that sparked some mild interest. The ducks were a non event as were chickens, geese and all other poultry. Fail number 5. I swiftly declared lunch time.
So I sat us by the fire ordered us an over priced packed lunch that I definitely should have made at home and hauled two babies out of prams and into high chairs. Ok one baby into a high chair the other refused, obviously (fail number 6). We had just settled, I took the first bite of my sandwich to hear, ‘Mummy I done poo’. Fail number 7.
After lunch, and toilet stop, we had been at the farm a grand total of 90 minutes, with probably about 30 actually spent in the farm. I was not ready to declare this day over and face the next 6 hours at home. So as the boy finally fell asleep and for my sins I dragged us into the ‘Play Barn’. This is basically one massive barn with a shit tonne of soft play. Oh-the-joys.
The big girl was finally happy. She hot footed it the replica street and jumped into the first car she saw. That’s my city girl.
She then spent the next hour and thirty minutes (whilst her brother slept) in her own little euphoria. Climbing up and down soft play, slides, bouncy castles, ball pits, toys cars, toy airplanes. When her brother did wake up we tried to all play together, and did for approximately an hour, but we had another ‘mummy I done poo‘ situation and his face generally looked like this…
…whilst he screeched at me. Enough was enough, it was 3.30 and we had been out of the house since 9 – despite my fails, ‘we done good’…mostly. Admittedly the farm wasn’t a roaring success but then my daughter is more like me than I thought – you can take the girl out of the city but you can’t take the city out of the girl. So I won’t beat myself up about it too much.
The rest of the evening was a bit of shit storm, the telly broke, the shower overflowed, Mr Tammy was Mr Grumpy, the kids were grumpy and tired, 7 o’clock felt like years away and I didn’t even have any wine, or chocolate. Despite this I am counting today as a #mummywin and besides, tomorrow is a new day and tomorrow we will have to do it all over again, but hopefully tomorrow will end with wine.