Wednesday, 9 February 2011

It’s not even 7am yet for fookidoodlesake.


To be honest with you, I do not even know where to start. Tuesday was one of the worst days to date, of the years I have trodden my life…It started bad, and ended a lot worse, a very lot worse. Clearing up piles and piles of dog sh*t (we are looking after someone else’s dog for a few weeks whilst they are way, it is her sh*t I am seeing to, always feels much more unfair when it’s not even one of yours), I flicked the kettle on, a cup of tea was absolutely in order, it’s not even 7am yet for fookidoodlesake. I put the porridge on, gallon of milk, 2 kgs of oats…(nearly true story too), I realise the dog has also p*ss*d on her bed, and as I walk through to gather the kids into the kitchen to eat their breakfast, the sudden cold, drenched sodden feeling in my sock, and overwhelming stench of dog p*ss demonstrates it’s presence on the floor and her bed. Fanbloodydooledootantastic. I get the kids at the table, serve up, the pick up the bed, mop the floor (well come on, totally warranted here, although maybe mopping the whole bottom floor was a little OCD), and wander off into the garage to shove the bed in the washing machine. Mitzi has not eaten a thing. She doesn’t want it she says, so I do the '5 mouthfuls and mummy’s gonna be ready to bail or throw herself out of the window’ deal with her. I start hairdressing the unhairdressed pillow hair before me, 4 heads. It’s a lot to tackle in the morning. I set about hairdressing duties, and Mitzi vomits. Everywhere. Clearing it up, telling her it was fine not to follow through with her 5 mouthful engagement, I use her puked on fresh clean clothes (always) to mop up some of it. It’s pure porridge oats too, just to give you a bit of detail, and send my mother-in-law off vomiting into a corner, the fact of it’s contents serves only in making me feel too guilty. I busy around nursing the puker, getting everyone ready for the school run. We are ready, finally, and late (probably acceptable under the circumstances), and I head back to ours to finish clear up and greet friend who will be dropping me off her baby for the day at 9.30am. the change over went well, given that I had a puking child, a crying baby and an esmie (worth 3 toddlers, at least!). Then:
·      Between forgetting everything, to gradually going forwards, backwards, forwards backwards to the car, to it finally just being the car keys I could not find,
·      To nearly running over a roosting chicken (beneath the car), ONE HOUR AND FORTY FIVE MINUTES, to get out the house, to pulling over 5 times for designated child to puke,

  • To retrieving an egg, previously laid in the car by now under-car-roosting-chicken, chicken, I mean it’s not even roosting in the right place for fork’s sake, rolling around threatening to wedge itself and henceforth be squished beneath the brake,

·      To finally arriving at the ear specialist. 

I hit the waiting room looking like a dishevelled, frantic multiple bag lady, smelling of porridge-puke. Nice. Good look, I should try this one more often. After Mitzi pukes for the second time in the waiting room, and there are still 5 people in front of me, I bail. Rearranging rendezvous for Monday. I then have a doctor’s trip for Mitzi, as she has just been too poorly of late, bless her cotton socks, and get home at now 3 o’clock, switch the kettle on for a well-needed cuppa, and the kettle electric shocks me. Bastard. This is when I realise I am out of tea bags anyway and bundle all three girls back in the car to get only teabags (so annoying going to the shop for just one thing, a pet hate of mine), teabags got, kids collected, done, all in car, baby hended back over to friend in one piece (thank the lord above and the green grass that grows beneath the blue skies…).  We arrive home. And this is where my whole day changed from ‘pretty mental, but doable’ to a ‘WTF did I do in my previous life to warrant this’ kind of a day. Somehow the dog we are looking after has got out, she has chased a chicken, I call her over not knowing how long she’s been harassing my girls. As I get her in, I get Monty to check Margo (our favourite, she has laid us an egg everyday bar the first couple of weeks she arrived here), he bursts into tears and shouts me. Running over I see the dog has mauled her so badly, there is no skin left around her neck. The vets it is, 2nd time in 2 weeks. We find out tomorrow morning if she survived the op.

Despite all this, today, I was remarkably organised, changes of clothes, buckets, towels, baby wipes. I did however forget one thing, well two, a change of clothes for me, although I got used to the crunchy patches of dried up sick on my shoulder and trousers, and later the smell of chicken blood too. I also forgot Mitzi’s shoes, she went round in her slippers all day. I wouldn’t have minded too much, only last week at school I forgot Esmie’s, and as mums looked on and laughingly quip, oh, had a paddy about putting her shoes on did she?! And I look honestly, and say ‘well, no, actually, I am a shit mum and I forgot to put her shoes on to leave the house’ no one thinks I am joking either…! Anyway, I am off, Alex’s UFC fighting watching time is at an end..! and besides, a bath is in order tonight methinks…!

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