“I don’t know what fish can do?!”

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What. A. Night.

No, not that sort of night, I mean a night FROM HELL. It started going wrong fairly early on in the evening. Let me explain…

I’d made a dinner of chilli during the day as I had some spare time (no, I’m not joking, I was shocked too) so I was +1 smug point for doing that.

Smugness: +1 – Shit hitting fan: 0

I’d also baked cookies, had friends over for a play date, done the kids dinner (which they all ate!) and ploughed through 3 loads of washing whilst keeping the kids amused. +6 smug points.

Smugness: +7 – Shit hitting fan: 0

#winning

#mumoftheyearaward

#deluded

 

They may look like crap but they tasted nice… Red Velvet cookies 😋

 
It got to 7pm and I decide, even though it’s half term, I’ve had quite enough of my children having light saber duels, bouncing on the sofa and throwing food around the house and that it’s bedtime.

As I announce this, my eldest screams that the toddler has done a poo and that “he really stinks like a farm!!!” – joy.

I prepare myself for the nappy change and open up the offending rag of crap confinement, I can’t believe my eyes. Without making you all throw up and going into too much detail, this is one of the worst poo’s I’ve ever seen. And that’s saying something. I’ve had 3 kids, Childminded 5 various children, worked in reception in a primary school and none of these moments produced a poo as horrendous as this.

It was all down his legs, all up his back, in every chubby roll he is in possession of from his belly button down to his ankles. It was also, despite being caught early, stuck to him like dried weetabix sticks to the table. It was almost immovable and I wanted to vomit, neck some neat gin and cry, all at the same time. -2 smug points.

Smugness: +5 – Shit hitting fan(literally): +2

I did the only thing I could do and held him at arms length and ran up the stairs to the bathroom ready for Operation Sh*t Removal which would involve showering him down and praying to the poo gods that the power of the water jet from the shower would rid my child of this poo skin mask he’d so expertly applied to himself. -1 smug point.

Smugness: +4 – Shit Hitting Fan: +3

Luckily for me, it did just that (the poo gods were clearly smiling down on me at that precise moment, or having fun at my expense…) and my toddler no longer smelt like he belonged in a stable. +1 smug point.

Smugness: +5 – shit hitting fan: +2

I get the kids in bed and the toddler is asleep in minutes as he’s not napped all day. Thank chuff for that. +1 smug point.

Smugness: +6 – shit hitting fan: +1

I then get a text from hubby at 7:05pm to say he’s just left work and he will be home in an hour. Oh dear, bless him. I go and turn the chilli off and leave it in the oven to stay warm and brace myself for a less than cheery welcome from my other half when he gets in after a bad day. -1 smug point.

Smugness: +5 – shit hitting fan: +2

Hubby gets home at just after 8pm and is, as suspected, about as happy as I was when I was jet washing poo off the toddler earlier on. 

“Terrible day. I’m still working” comes the greeting, and with that I scurry off to the kitchen to serve up dinner which is now a little more ‘slow cooked’ than I had intended but still looks edible.

We eat accompanied by silence, phone beeps and huffing. He really is having a bad day… -1 smug point.

Smugness: +4 – Shit hitting fan: +3

By 10:15pm, i’ve had enough of crap tv and hubby thinks work is sorted enough that he can go to bed. 

Upon getting upstairs, I hear the middle one crying so I go in his room to investigate. I find him stood next to his bed in the darkness staring at me and wimpering like something out of an Alfred Hitchcock movie, it’s super creepy. 

“Are you ok, Zak?” I ask. 

No reply. Just more wimpering.

“What’s the matter poppet?” I ask again.

No reply. More wimpering and he gets back into his bed.

Enter the Sandman…

 I sit down on the bed and ask him if he’s ok and give him a cuddle. His eyes are open and he looks awake but I’m 99% sure he’s not really ‘awake’. It’s pretty disconcerting and my urge to drink a neat gin again is compelling… -1 smug point.

Smugness: +3 – Shit hitting fan: +4

“Do you want a hug Zak? Is something hurting?” I ask him.

No reply and more crying, this time he has real tears rolling down his cheeks and a distant look in his eyes. It’s safe to say he’s sleep walking of sorts.

Then comes a response from Zak…

*Crying* “I don’t know what fish can do!!!!!” *Hysterical crying*.

WTF?!?!

“You don’t know what fish can do??” I reply.

“Yes!!!” *Crying* he replies.

“Well, fish can swim in water can’t they Zak, and, they can go in fish fingers!” I say (seriously Gemma, they can go in fish fingers?! Is that the best response you could muster to a 6 year old in reply to the question, “I don’t know what fish can do”…Holy jebus). -1 smug point.

Smugness: +2 – Shit hitting fan: +5

After calming him down (and deeming my crap answers acceptable) he eventually drifts back off to sleep – probably to dream about happy fish swimming, playing chase and dreaming of university who are then caught, killed, made into fish fingers and he’s then made to eat them. No wonder this kid has nightmares! I’m such a bad mum… -2 smug points.

Smugness: 0 – Shit hitting fan: +7

Battered Nemo, the stuff of nightmares…

 
I get into bed and try to get to sleep. 2 minutes later, hubby a phone is ringing. He takes the call and after 5 minutes, tried to go back to sleep. This happens a further 4 times and it’s now 11:20pm. I try to get to sleep again and then, at 11:45pm, just as I’m drifting off, the toddler starts to rev up. He’s awake. Nooooooo!!!!! (Just like Darth Vader in Star Wars…) -4 smug points.

Nooooooo!!! The toddler is awake again!!!!!

Smugness: -4 – Shit hitting fan: +11

I go and see to him but he’s having none of it and is only happy when I’m holding his foot and tickling it. Yes seriously. So I make my makeshift bed on the floor next to him again (a beanbag, pillow and duvet) and settle down for a night of foot holding and uncomfortableness (is that even a word?! It is now….) -5 smug points.

Smugness: -9 – Shit hitting fan: +16

I sleep relatively well on the toddlers bedroom floor and I’m woken at 6am by my husband getting in the shower. I get up (I always feel guilty about lying in when he’s got to get up for work so I always get up then too….this is however not reciprocated by him at the weekend when the toddler is up at 5:30am – he will lie in until at least 8:30…) The toddler wakes up then too and any chance of a quiet coffee and check of the news by myself before the day starts is out the window already. -4 smug points.

Smugness: -13 – Shit hitting fan: +20

Hubby then appears and is limping. He then informs me his foot is hurting to the point he can’t walk on it and that he now needs to take the car to get to work rather than get the train. Out of nowhere. He’s not exercised on it, he’s not done any breakdancing, nothing. He gets it every now and then and last time it took 7 weeks to get better. Nightmare. Cue me cancelling the days plans to take my eldest to a guitar lesson and then off for a nice winter walk in the woods. -20 smug points 

Smugness: -33 – Shit hitting fan: +40

It’s also the eldest ones birthday this Sunday, so hubby has taken Friday off for a planned family day out at the beach fossil hunting as well as a day out in London on Sunday for the actual birthday celebrations. This now looks unlikely to happen given he’s walking like a pirate and I’m left trying very hard not to want to scream and drink an entire bottle of neat gin…. -57 smug points.

A photo of an old fossil…no, I didn’t mean my husband

Smugness: -90 – Shit hitting fan: +97.

Safe to say, I don’t feel very smug anymore… 

Gin for breakfast anyone?!

A balanced diet and the breakfast of champions…

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