Mood. Tired. Tooth. Timings. Myth.

Mood

Yesterday I was a moody, short- tempered bitch. All the “little things” that don’t usually bug me, really annoyed me yesterday. But!!!!! But it was only a day. A brief blip in the bigger scheme of things.

Why did the little things feel like big ass gigantic pain in the arse type things?

Tired

I’ve been sleeping but I think I’m still playing catchup on the NYC trip. (More about that another time. I’m still digesting the enormity of the experience) The kids have taken to sleeping in my bed from bedtime. Kids. With an “s”. Plural.

Tooth

Ava has been alternating her “allergy/ this time of year induced midnight coughing fits (where a different remedy seems to do the trick each time), with a nose bleed, a sore tummy and then her first tooth fell out.

When you are tired your resistance is lowered. When you are tired the little things irritate you. When you are tired you can’t make good decisions.

Timings

Aiden’s Broadway show week. It’s awesome and fun and exciting for him. It’s a scheduling nightmare for me. The kids are allowed (or rather encouraged) to arrive late to school, and they finish early with no after school sports (hello… help.. hyper kid, small house, bouncing off walls). He needs to be rested, fed and dressed with a white collared shirt. A clean white coloured shirt with makeup on and at school by 5. Then collected from the classroom by 7.30. (Which is supposed to be Ava’s bedtime)

What this means is that Ava needs to be school by 8. Aiden at 9. Me technically at 8.30 but 24/7 would be more accurate. Aiden needs to be collected at 1. I send Jean on foot. Aiden complains but still, at least it’s some way to expelling some energy. And sunlight exposure.

I pull a Mother Hubbard stint and try leave work at 4, be at Ava’s school at 3.45 and home by 3.30. because Aiden wants me to put the makeup on and drop him at school. I know I’m late before I’ve left. Apologies is how I start every whatsapp message. Then when we are all back home after 7.30 the fun and games begin. No I mean literal fun and games.

Aiden is on a post-play high and Ava wants to rein-act the entire play. Scene by scene.

8.30 comes and goes.
My sense of humour goes.

It’s after 9 by the time we are all crammed into my bed, me in the middle so I can’t stick a foot out of the duvet for temperature control.

Tickle me.
No tickle me first.
Can I hold your hand?
No I want to hold your hand.
Shhhh.
No you shhhh.
Stop taking all the duvet.
I’m noooooot.

Myth

Of course this work week is flat out ridiculous too. I’m still catching up on the 4 work days I missed even though I worked until stupid o clock the week before I left. The only conclusion I can draw is that my “daily” work load doesn’t actually fit into a work day. Not all emails carry the same time and effort weighting. Catching up on work post-holiday is like trying to find the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

A myth.

I’m starting to wonder if my daily life also doesn’t actually fit into a day, that not all tasks carry the same time/effort weighting, and that waiting for a “normal” week is also a myth.


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Night night off

Night night off

I love going out and having a break now and then but you know what I also love? When I get home, I go give the kids a love and a mooch while they are all snug as a bug in a rug. Ava is no doubt in the middle of dreaming about mermaid princesses riding unicorns on the way to visit Barbie so doesn’t know I’m home. Aiden is getting older now where he wakes up and grabs me with both arms “Mommy!! You’re home. How was your night?” (Note I’m Mommy when he’s all sleepy and happy and being the prodigal son.

Continue reading “Night night off”

Mission Impossible

Mission Impossible

Hello Bron.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to get both children asleep by 7.30pm, best-case scenario, or worst-case scenario, one of them asleep.

6.25pm

Children are fed and bathed.
Curtains drawn.
The house is quiet.
Conditions are favourable. It’s a cool night, it’s raining outside so it looks even darker. More susceptible to snuggling under the duvet.

6.45pm

Both children in their rooms, in their beds.
Mission on track.
Things are going well.
I feel good about this. I am thinking of what I will do tonight? Find a new series to watch? Complete my colouring picture? Read a magazine?

7.01pm

Drat! Aiden has gone into Ava’s room. This can’t be good.

I march off to reprimand the offending child and get this project back on track.
Children are back in their respective rooms.

7.10pm

I pat myself on the back for avoiding a potential disaster, being proactive and staying on top of things, fulfilling my parental responsibility … wait, what the hell? FFS

Kids have decided its way more fun to play WWE wrestling in Aiden’s room. Laughing, giggling and shouting. At this point the shouting is from me.

7.30pm

I whip out the iPad for Ava and a biscuit to lure her back to her room and back in her bed.

Aiden is now occupied on the PS4. Mission not quite going to plan, but at this point they are in their bedrooms so technically still on track?

7.40pm

I get comfy in bed, safe in the knowledge that I have this in the bag and get Netflix going.

7.45pm

Aiden comes bouncing into my room. No really, actually bouncing. Think Tigger. He wants to sleep in my bed. Apparently, I promised he could last week Tuesday in the morning after he had a piece of apple with the skin cut off and he was wearing the Star Wars T shirt, remember we had the discussion and I said to him he could. The movie Rain Man suddenly flashes in my mind. But ask him to go tidy his room and suddenly he is reduced to the capability of a tadpole. Now the light is too bright for him and the TV is annoying, all said while jumping up and down and fidgeting and annoying me. The irony was not lost, but my temper was. “Go to your own bed then” I yell.  Tears erupt as he jumps off and runs out the room.

Well ok, not the best way to deal with the situation, but he’s back in his room. Mission, albeit a little late, is back on track.

8pm

He’s back. With a slice of bread.

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I relent and turn off the TV and the light.
Out the darkness Aiden suddenly asks:

Mom, what was I before I was born? Like before I was in your tummy?
What was my name before it was Aiden?

Why did you name me Aiden?

How did I get in your tummy?

Mom have you met Jesus?

Was Jesus the first person in heaven?

And all I am thinking is “Dear God, why me? Where is Jay? Why now? Will Google have the answers?”

Aiden got all wound up again, so the bouncing and jumping commenced, as well as hanging upside down off the bed.  The conversation digressed, got heated, words were exchanged and he left in tears, again.

8.45pm

Aiden bounced back into the room with even more energy that before. Just like badies in a movie that keep appearing, trying to stop your mission. He must have gone to go fuel up. And hot on his heels is Ava carrying her new Anna doll, who also wants to sleep in my bed.

Sure. Why not.

Let’s all just go to bed.

I will skip over this part as there is 45min of jumping, bouncing, duvet steeling, crying, whining, position swapping (who is sleeping next to who), some more crying, lights off – no too dark, lights on no too bright, he touched my foot, please tickle me etc.

9.30pm

Ava has decided she wants me to sleep in her bed. Aiden wants to sleep with me so we all traipse off to Ava’s room and the 3 of us squeeze into the single bed.  At this point I am questioning why I even thought I could attempt this mission. What was I thinking? This can’t be done. It actually can’t be done. Note to self to purchase a white flag so I can waive it in defeat. I have lost the will to live.

10.05pm

We are all back in my room, back in my bed, obviously.

I have turned off the pool pump, unplugged the DSTV decoder, and yelled at the dog to stop licking his balls.

FINALLY, darkness, quiet, peace.  The kids have settled.

I am silently optimistic that I may be on the home stretch and sleep may be within my grasp when suddenly we hear
“For the first time in forever …. There’ll be magic there’s be fun!”
being belted out by Ava’s Anna doll from under the duvet!

Everyone’s heads pop up from the duvet like meercats.

Mission aborted. Mission aborted. Mayday!

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