I’m very grateful for my husband. That apart from loving me unconditionally (which isn’t easy) he has a sense of duty, responsibility, is sensitive towards others and is honest with me.
Unlike his brother, who I an constantly shouting at in my head for being a complete and utter wanker. (As many MANY people would confirm.)
If he should start on my amazing husband, then the rants in my head will become vocal. If it does, I suggest you hold onto your hats cos it’s going to be a bumpy ride.
I’m off to shout in my head again.
I’ve spent the past 90 minutes in tears, simply because my mum told me I shout too much. I’m 43, for goodness sake, I KNOW I shout too much, I KNOW that it is often at the children, and it’s so I can be heard over them. I KNOW I should use a quiet voice to contrast and grasp their attention, and if I shout they will shout more. I KNOW!
And I am trying. Truely I am.
I feel I’ve failed. I never wanted more than a wonderful family of my own. I’ve got one and I adore, love and live for them. But I’m loud. Always have been, always will be.
So I’ve gone to bed.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Tomorrow is a quiet day.
Failure is not an option.
As usual, when we go to visit relatives, I ask the children to choose 2 or 3 toys to keep them busy. My 6yr old son chose some cars, lego and his remote control helicopter.
My 4yr old daughter chose a mirror.
“Why do you want a mirror, Boo?” I asked. “Nana has plenty of mirrors in her house.”
“It’s so I can make sure I’m pretty enough to go downstairs in the morning.” She replied.
I remember when the weekend meant lazy mornings, staying in bed until 11am, having a cooked brunch and a sneaky mid afternoon g&t.
We’ve got children now.
The weekend no longer exists.
Today I sat in Costa Coffee, drinking lattes and eating cake with 2 lovely friends and we discussed recipes.
We met as a way to acknowledge International Women’s Day and celebrated that we were free to do so.
It wasn’t much, it was an acknowledgement, an understanding and a celebration of our strength.
We’re so lucky to live in a country where we can do this.
6 yr old asked me a question this morning.
Boy: “Mummy, when I’m old enough to leave home, what will you do?”
Not sure I gave the right answer there…
One thing I dislike is sharing our bed with the children. I hate it so much that my 4yr old daughter has a pile of blankets that she climbs into when she comes up in the middle of the night. That way she is with us, if she wants to be, but not WITH us.
For the first time in forever (ooh! Sounds like a song!) my son came up to our room last night because he’d had a really scary dream. There was no way he would have gone back to bed without waking up the other 2, so I allowed him to climb in with us.
This was at 3.45am – just as I was finally about to fall asleep (think I may have overdosed on late night caffeine.) I gave up and went to sleep on the sofa.
This was ok until 6.20am when my daughter joined me. Who the FU** let her come downstairs. She proceeded to cuddle up to me, and sang under her breath until I got so pissed off I sent her back upstairs. This was soon followed by my son who just moaned because he didn’t have any pens to draw with in his room – conveniently forgotten that pens are banned from his room since he used his new graffiti tag (of the word MUM) on the chair in there… He was soon sent back up.
I survived on 3 hours sleep today. I’m in my own bed at 11.20pm hoping to catch up. Some chance. Madam will be in her floor bed by 1.30am and dear son claims to have so many bad dreams that he needs to be with us too.
Tonight I’ve left the duvet on the sofa ready for me. At the first sign of 2 children in here, I’ll be off.