Today’s Mantra: I’m on a beach….alone…it is quiet….
I honestly believe my husband thinks I’m having a holiday, at home with the two kids. I don’t think anyone can really understand what goes on day-to-day, if they are not actually doing it themselves.
It’s 2pm and I’m dead tired. I’ve just got out of the car and left my sleeping older child in it, parked in the garage.
Where did you go, you may ask.
I drove round the block and back, to get him to sleep, because I needed a break. I also needed him to be the best version of himself when he returns. I don’t want the whiny, clumsy, crying one back today thank you.
I got up this morning happy enough. There was little Leo tucked in my bed, under my arm as usual. He got up at 1am for a feed…I think. Jules wandered in at a very respectable 7am and we all cuddled and laughed for a bit before going downstairs. Husband stayed sleeping. Pancakes were made, bottles were given, coffee drunk.
We played, we chatted, then I put on the TV for Julian, so Leo and I could have a shower. Husband gets up, dressed and leaves for work at some point during this.
I get myself and Julian ready and put Leo down for a nap. I clean up the kitchen (last nights dishes had not been done) and throw a load of washing on. I get ready for a coffee at my best friend’s place, next door.
Kids go shoeless and I throw some food in my bag to stop my little seagull begging for food at his Aunty Bec’s house. It doesn’t work. He eats what I’d brought, then asks for more. We try to have a few conversations between children bouncing on laps, feeding bottles and putting kiddies to bed. We break up a few fights, pander to their wants and needs, then its time to go home.
Leo goes for a sleep, Jules and I play a game. He is not happy that I win anything during bingo, game over. My thermomix goes into over drive as I make a green smoothie, make breadcrumbs, make arancini out of last night’s risotto and heat up leftover soup. Jules is not happy with lunch and starts screaming. Wakes the baby up, makes mummy angry. Baby won’t resettle as first child still screaming.
Husband calls and asks me to do something. I refuse, I’m in meltdown mode. As I’m doing this, Jules opens the fridge, though I’d refused to give him anymore food. Baby gets hit in the head and all hell breaks loose. I’m yelling, baby’s crying, Jules is crying.
Time to drive.
Only four hours till help (?) comes home from work.