I was having the mother of all days the other day. It was Thursday and I was wondering WHAT THE HELL was I going to post about. And then life handed me two lovely glasses of lemonade. But it made me juice the lemons first.
I had decided it was Santa photo day so we got all dressed up in our nice gear. Monkey as he was in the photo; me in case I had to jump in at the last minute. We spent all morning prepping and getting excited about our photo with Santa. So far, so good. You can see it has disaster written all over it though, can’t you?
We got to the shops and I popped into a store first to grab a couple of Christmas presents and half way through me collecting stuff Monkey just ran on out of the store and off, down the filled to the brim with Christmas shopping people shopping centre. Stellar. I’d asked him to go in the stroller when we arrived and after an emphatic no I let him off as I didn’t feel like the fight. That was stupid.
So anyway, took off running after the kid. Thankfully I managed to remember to dump the shopping first so I didn’t get pulled up for theft of underwear. Then I had a brilliant idea: get one of those trolleys with a car underneath it. That way he is strapped in and I can do whatever I want. I was so pleased with myself for the idea and even more pleased when I found out it was only a gold coin donation to hire. Boom diggity. We might do this all the time (famous last words).
We visited Santa which actually went pretty well. No tears but very shy once we got up close. Still, I got the photo (no
smile) and I didn’t have to sit in it so that’s win if you ask me. Phew. Everything going well. I ran a few more chores and then we had to return to the car so we could go. Next stop: gym.
We never got to the gym. Monkey had what can only be termed as the worst tantrum to date. I’m now suspecting that he is actually the devil’s spawn and I’ve just been fooled all the time. In the end the only way to leave was carry him under my arm like a tree truck so that’s what I did. His little arms and legs flailed all about and the whole way to the car I declared that “we will never be hiring one of those cars again, do you understand?”.
Such a brilliant idea.
And that would be quite enough for one day actually except then we had to quickly visit a friend’s place to check out some furniture they were doing up for me. Their little boy is one of Monkey’s best mates so it’s pretty difficult to do a quick visit there. To make it fun and give him incentive to leave I pushed him over in his big red car (they live 2 doors away). All good. Both boys were approaching sleep time and did not play that well together at all so we decided to get out of there pretty quickly.
I was the world’s worst mothers for the second time that day.
Half way home he decided he would not let me push him home in the car. His feet were stuck firmly on the ground. As I was trying to reason with the unreasonable little sod and be all nice mummy, mummy understands, now come along with mummy, it happened.
A goddamn freaking bird SHIT on me.
Yes. That’s right. Shit on me.
*sigh* (I did more than that)
Anyway, apparently that means great wealth is coming down from the heavens.
Better be after that shit of a day.
Is it necessary to say pun intended?
PS. Don’t forget I am putting together a post of anonymous stories from mamas who, like me, had trouble bonding with their baby. I’d really love to hear from you if you have a story to tell about this. You can read more on this project here.
I blog Tuesdays and Thursdays. Pop in and see me then so I can regale you with my stories.