Ah, the sweet rollercoaster of emotions that is parenting tiny people. Yesterday, I cried at the beautiful glory of my firstborn, today I cried because I wanted to wring his neck.
I despise the online parents who pretend that every day is an amazing fairy tale. It’s not. Today has been a really good day, but I have threatened both children with an amazing array of skill about eighty times since their Dad left for work. At 9am, as both boys grappled my neck while I was hitting a crucial work deadline, I contemplated locking them out in the garden for an hour. And then it rained.
I took them to Dundrum to buy Matthew’s playschool uniform and treated them to lunch out. It was a success, in that they both ate a full kids portion of sausages and chips, but my legs will be in agony later after chasing them through the whole of the third floor afterwards. They ended up hiding from me in Imaginosity (it has that stupid fucking tiny door that all kids are obsessed with).
While spending my birthday Dundrum voucher on my kids, I decided that I deserved a cream cake from M&S to round off the day, but as I was paying for it Mikey threw the biggest wobbler of all time, screaming as though he was being murdered. The reason? The little fecker was attempting to shoplift a pair of boys knickers from the shop. I wrestled him, kicking and screaming, to the parking pay thing where the boys both lost it over who was going to feed the money into the machine, and then over the fact that they had to get in the car.
Two supermarkets later (baby wipes on offer, you get it, I’m sure), I was just dropping the shopping into the house when I turned around to find Matthew – like a magic genii – standing in the front garden. He had only bloody unfastened his seatbelt, climbed into the drivers seat and let himself out. I BELLOWED. Like a fishwife. It was terribly unseemly.
Right now, things are calm. But only because I have bribed them with a packet of chocolate buttons and Curious George. The sugar high will come down on me like a ton of bricks in about three minutes I’m sure.
Anyway, just in case you read yesterday’s post, and were all – OOOOHHHH, look how smug and figured out she is, because her kid is growing up and stuff – don’t be. I am like a frazzled wilderbeast. And I really need a glass of wine.