Yesterday was just horrific – I wanted to lock myself in the bathroom and climb out of the window except two pregnancies, not enough exercise, and one to many rockdonalds and my backside is just far too wide. It was as if the rain outside had morphed my sweet little gizmos into a small of pack gremlins. They destroyed their bedroom and as fast I was clearing up and trying to limit damage they were moving onto the next room like a plague of locusts.
By 3pm I was climbing the walls and those few jobs that I did have – like phone the Tax Credits office (tedious, telephonic, crappy, abysshole that is ) was also working my nerve. Picture scene – on hold, lost somewhere between option 3 and 4 and two whirling dervishes pretending to be Pepper Pig and a dinosaur and no amount of gentle talking, bribery, corruption and or shouting (me) was bringing the volume down. It was the quickest call to HMRC I have ever experienced. I could just hear the judgemental look dripping down the line as the the chirpy Liverpudlian asked “Is that really just two kids I can ear” clearly she had no kids of her own and needed to take mine and fast.
It got that bad that Santa and the Elves had to reclaim the prized Christmas scooter and it was waiting outside the front door for its one way ticket back to the north pole. Was there a taxi for me please too? God no. I decided to make a coffee – with cold water from the kettle I didn’t boil because I was hounded into making a vat of juice for my captures. Not to be beaten, I stuck it in the microwave and before you start with the eewing and sticking your nose in the air and getting all judgemental on me too – in the grand scheme of things it was actually ok. looking around, surveying the mess and from the twitch pattern of my left eye it was clear they needed to go back to school.
I am 34 years old and spent the best part of the day being terrorised by the under 5’s resistance was futile. Negotiation was at a standstill and my nerves shot to s***. So…. I put my coat on opened the door and left home – I didn’t, I stood outside the front door in the rain watching the little so and so’s from the safety of (mine, not the monsters) the kitchen window. God it felt good. If only until kid number one spotted me and said “silly mummy ran away to the garden” I felt like a right muppet.
So apologies to HMRC and anyone else that tried to speak to me yesterday, to the neighbours and the aged pets who had to suffer the screaming and socks on the ears and backpacks for saddles. To my husband who returned home to the shell of the wife he left in the morning. It was just one of those days, I’m sure we will have many more – next time though, I will be ready waiting with amo and a battle plan and a larger bathroom window.
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Diary of is a regular blog, by a regular Greenwich mum. Sharing experiences as a local parent (and member of this website) she’ll be writing about everything and anything. And being completely anonymous – you never know – you could have stood next to her in the Post Office or behind her in Cafe W…
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