Blog

Blogging about not blogging.

I’m that amazing at blogging.

That I’m blogging about not blogging.

Dick.

Like why haven’t I?

Surely I have loads of time to.

Said no mother ever…….

But I haven’t so I’m sorry. 

I’ll try harder.

I’ll try harder at most things. I don’t think I’m too bad at this parenting thing but I find you are usually your worst critic. Lying in bed shattered, exhausted and wide awake wondering if maybe you could have done a little better today. Or that you must wash son 2 training kit tomorrow in order to get it dry in your ridiculously cold house in time for said training. Or trying to recall whether you put a night nappy on son 4, then hoping you did, then finding out at 2am infact you didn’t. So you end up cradling a baby and trying to encourage a pissy, but wiped down, 4 year old to snuggle daddy without daddy realising why he is snuggling him.

But in all fairness most of us do try our best. 

Maybe we could be better or do better but maybe also we should look at where we fucking rocked life. Nailed getting ourselves dressed and numerous offspring and just made it through the day.

Loving them. Always loving them.

Even when it’s really hard and you swear a lot under your breath or in your head or sometimes just out loud.

There’s always love.

And to trying again tomorrow. 

Photo of my amazing cooking achievements both of which went down like a shit bomb but oh fucking well. 

Advertisements

Officially the worlds worst mother.

Yep you heard it.

As of last night in the worlds worst mother.

Pretty shit award if I’m honest.

As voted by my own offspring.

Why you say?

It runs deep.

I made pasta.

WITH sauce.

So yes I deserved the title of the worst mum EVER.

God forbid I put sauce on the beautiful clean plain tasteless pasta.

In that moment as I emptied the jar life changed forever. 

I couldn’t take that sauce back.

I couldn’t stop and rethink.

I couldn’t make the pasta nice again.

So for last nights dinner I was the worse ever ever ever.

That said baby M loved it.

And most of the boys did eventually eat the awful, horrendous, life changing pasta.

So off to polish my award and crack on with today.

And I should really clean the highchair before breakfast.

Another award in the making. 

Inner zen

Today I got to start my reiki masters training. 

Beautiful serene training.

Meditations.

Chanting.

Feeling the energy flow.

Then I got to pick up son 2 from football.

So son 4 decided to run away. He’s a runner. He never walked he just set off running at 10months old. 

And has kept on going since then.

He’s a nightmare.

Streaking.

Running.

Disappearing.

So today he ran off at school.

It’s new school to us as we’ve moved.

After trying to tempt him back I realised I would have to break into a sprint.

At the same time son 3 (the little git) decided to shout 

“RUN RUUUUUUUN MUM IS CATCHING YOU RUNNNNNNN”

Thanks.

Not only did the bugger then run that much faster I had the entire playground staring at me sprinting after a very quick and nimble 4 year old.

It took all my inner zen not to lose my shit completely.

I finally got hold of him. 

I should add son 4 was dressed as max from the wild things and son 3 as batman.

Baby m just got left in the middle of the playground. 

Inner zen 

Then there were 5

Yeah 2 was fine.

Then I had to pick up the rest of them.

They are tired.

It’s hot.

They are grumpy.

Baby M is grumpy we had a dairy trial yesterday safe to say she isn’t having cheese again for a long time. 

I’m hot, tired, sweaty.

We went to the park.

I was fed up of the wailing and the fighting and the jumping over the foundations in the garden.

So we parked it.

Then it was late.

No one had had dinner.

Son 4 was wailing to be honest he’s wailed since he returned from school.

Except when I was on the phone to my sister and he locked himself in the bathroom and couldn’t get out.

Then he cried.

But that was quieter than wailing so I didn’t realise till I hung up and went looking for him.

Parental fail.

I did hit mild panic after explaining for the 3rd time hoe to unlock the 1930s beautiful Bakelite handle to no avail. 

Obviously concerned about him but also considering my love for the beautiful original door.

Thank fuck 4th time lucky.

But anyway yes we parked too late in the day. 

It meant tired dinner.

Tired mummy. 

Tired everyting. 

I put the little ones to bed in a mess of beans and crying and wanting daddy. 

And now I’m drinking and hanging washing and thinking maybe I needs husband who comes home earlier. 

Not a different husband, different job. 

But for now I have wine. 

2 kids is a breeze

Sorry not sorry.

I had to take son numero 1 to the dentist. So I dropped various offspring at school and was left with just 2. 

We came home baby M had boob. 

We set off.

We were early – bloody hell.

We had time to peruse Aldi – one of the great fun mum haunts.

We purchased 4  refill cartridges for my dymo labeller. 

My life is this fun.

I was actually excited by the iron on cartridge so much so I got 2.  

For a moment my life was complete. 

Back down to earth with a milk purchase and then the dentist. 

I also came home and vacuumed my cardboard. 

We are still in semi renovation stages.

So when I vacuum I get to suck up dust from cardboard laid on dodgy floorboards and concrete. 

I still find it necessary to vacuum though. 

Update

Whoops I didn’t post yesterday. 

It was my first full day of all the kids at school.

Quiet.

Well whilst they were there.

And not overly so with the mini tornado of baby M.

She can climb the stairs.

Fucking arses.

She loves climbing the stairs.

She spends her days emptying drawers, climbing on things and generally trashing the house.

She’s still pretty cute.

But she is definitely a madam.

Oh and the garden is now full of foundation trenches.

Mud.

And socks. 

Lots and lots of disguarded socks. 

Thank boys.

Just watching a DVD 

At 3am.

We got a lovely 3 am wake up from Son 4.

He couldn’t see the problem in watching a film on Netflix in the middle of the night.

Infact he decided to wake son 3 to share the experience. 

So at 3 am I was explaining that it was not morning as son 4 insisted it was. And why he couldn’t watch the end of his film. 

Bleary eyed I went back to bed.

I blame this rude awakening on being late and totally unprepared for school.

Not the drinking of local 7% Perry.

Not the fact I hadn’t ironed any uniforms.

Not the fact I hadn’t cleared away dinner and then had to do it when it got up. 

It was definitely the 3am DVD. 

Definitely. 

Also today our extension starts.

So today I needed to make sure the garden was dog poop free. 

To move the cars out of the way of the skip.

To get them all to school with all their stuff. 

I managed to get the 2 little boys to school with their stuff. 

Not before son 1 couldn’t find his pencil case.

Not before son 1 (after finding his pencil case in his bag like I had told him) rang to say he hadn’t got his planner could I bring it to school. 

Not before promising the builders I would be straight back to move the cars. 

Tomorrow will be better.

Tonight I won’t drink cider.

I’ll be organised instead. 

I hope. 

It was all bloody lush 

Yoga was amazing.

Hard but amazing.

The teacher was a dream.

She was a little sweary oh yes.

It pushed me.

It reminded me I need to be me sometimes.

I ache.

I am alive.

We then went to the local musuem as it was a free open day. 

Free and with local beer and cider.

Oh yes.

So i spent the morning detoxing to redox on cider that afternoon.

We have just moved but we are loving it. So much community spirit and events which is great with 259 children. 

I exaggerate I have 5.

But it’s still helpful.

Spent a lush afternoon with friends drinking cider.

Let the kids eat sweets and jump off walls.

Now home to uniform chaos and belated dinner. 

Oh and baby M can climb the stairs.

Parental fail.

Fuck. 

Relaxing yoga

So this morning I had yoga. 

I’d booked it a few months ago. An inversion workshop bloody yes!!!

So of course I got up a bit too late.

Spent too long hanging the washing up whilst worrying it needed to be dry as it was 99% school uniform.

Then I fed the animals.

Then I discovered I had no fucking idea where my yoga mat was.

We have only been moved 2 weeks but I was confident my mat was in my treatment room. It wasn’t. 

So I had a mini lost mat flap and realised whilst doing this I needed to eat before a 3 hour yoga workshop.

Whacked a veggie burger in the oven.

Frantically shaved my arm pits. 

Gave up on my legs – too little time. 

Whilst dressing I gave instructions to my husband. 

DO NOT leave the baby unmanned.

WATCH the baby and strap her in if feeding her.

Just look after them.

Please.

So I left the house minus my yoga mat. With a plastic plate of 1 veggie burger (no bun I had run out of time) 1 Apple 1 nectarine.

I decided to take husbands car – smaller, fuel economic, nicer to drive. 

I then discover he has left it over night on the drive with the door wide open.

The whole of the car is covered in wet dewy water. It’s just wet. I put the wipers on to discover the water is on the inside of the windscreen and rear windscreen.

Fuuuuuuuck. 

I find a crocheted football (made for son 3 after he smashed his toe on a sand pit digger – long story I hope is never repeated) and use this to clear the screen.

I’m stressed. I’m probably late by now. I’m driving along with both windows down and the heating on high to try and dry out the car.

I’m eating a veggie burger off a pink IKEA plate. Trying not to drip anything onto my yoga outfit.

I’m calm. 

I’m in control.

I’m totally ready for a yoga workshop.

Why is it always me. 

Fucking wet car Arse shit. 

Namaste…………

Bastard fart putty 

Eurgh. 

Hate. Fart. Putty.

I mean I hated it before, boys and farts it’s just constant. 

I hate it even more after discovering boy 4 has smeared fluorescent orange noise slime across the brand new carpet in the older boys room.

Fluorescent orange putty shows up real good on dark grey carpet.

The said fart putty is going in the bin.

And I got to scrub the freshly laid carpet with my precious water wipes. 

Must order generic cheap wipes for cleaning up fart putty. 

Back to cooking paella whilst baby M screams for food or boob or just nothing and whilst helping son 1 create a science poster.

Send wine.