One Of Those Weeks
It really has just been one of those weeks and it isn’t even over yet! My week thus far has been a shocker at best, a down right titanic sized fail at worst. This little ol’ thing known as life sure can be a journey! I didn’t earn the accolade of “It could only happen to me” without some blood, sweat and tears.
I am ashamed to admit that I’ve had one of those weeks when I have really being suffering writers block. There has been a serious lull in my creativity. Sometimes, life just gets in the way. I have felt so poorly I was actually in bed at the beginning of the week. I am safely back in the house after our weekly market & butchers shop. PJ’s already on, and duvet at the ready!
Even when its one of those weeks – Shop Local
As we were passing, It would have obviously been terribly rude to not buy some Lamb & Mint Sausage Rolls from the fabulous Market Cafe. Speaking of which, I definitely didn’t “help” a child to eat it. I am 66.6% “Healthy Eating Helen”, thinking about what I am fuelling my body with. Then there is the other flabby third of me smuggling a square of dairy milk every now and again. Like I say, it really has been one of those weeks. I’m hoping that we all have a similar percentage distribution…I would love to say it was 80/20 but I would definitely be lying.
I have invested in a snazzy granny trolley and can often be found towing it one armed to and from Knutsford. I also spied a new stall (might not be super new as I’ve been out of action for a while) offering a solution to the plastic epidemic. Plastic Free Weigh sounds right up my street, I am forever getting mad with unnecessary things coming covered in plastic. I am far from perfect, but if we all make little changes, it will have a big effect! I can’t wait to peruse when I am not herding cats, I mean kids. Told you it had been one of those weeks!
This isn’t an ad by the way, but a real passion of mine. When I “retired” this year, I made a huge effort to buy local. After all, we are a community, I would hate to see the local markets and high streets die.
The Tiger (Mum) who came to Tea
So, as I have previously moaned, it really has been one of those weeks. Things just seemed too go to shit. Me, my health, my parenting, the kids, well, life. And then I made an epic fail. Have you ever accidentally “Tiger Mummed”?
I endeavour to portray an honest account of motherhood, parenting, life, cancer and all that it entails. I admit it, I definitely have. And I suffer from “Oops I did it again” syndrome too.
I would give my last breath to my children. They stole my mind, ruined my body and inherited my soul. But, I am very sure it is going to be all worth it. Honest.
The definition of a Tiger Mum is:
“a mother who is very determined that her child
should be successful and makes them work very hard”
according to the Cambridge dictionary. And I think I am inline for 10 out of 10 for enthusiasm, let alone effort. The words seem to flow out of my mouth before I realise I have even thought them! In my defence, I’ve felt like a fire fighter fighting against my own self combusting flames. I have barely managed to think straight, never mind outside the box! We all have them don’t we? A week where there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for things going wrong. And it just goes down as one of those weeks.
How did I get it so wrong?
It hit me, like a bullet between the eyes. I was so desperate for Team Twiglet to be successful in all that they do, that I haven’t seen all the things that they don’t do. And I don’t just mean not making their beds.
The grace, prowess and tact I thought I had instilled, I would even go so far as to say drilled, into all of my children, some how seems to have vanished. Some time, when I clearly wasn’t looking or parenting. We now shout, at each other, and that is not something I am proud of.
Given my failings, I am trying to rectify where we seem to have found ourselves. This weekend we are employing Elsa’s way of thinking: We are going to let it all go. Start a fresh on Monday, with a clear head and a happy heart. Put last week in the “one of those weeks” box. As Parents, Hubs and I also hope to enter back into the parenting saga with a more positive head.
As twins, 2/3rds of Team Twiglet have always had to split their parents. When number 3 turbo charged her way into the world, we seemed to adopt the “divide and conquer” mantra. I ended up plumping with the girls and The Hubs with Thing 2.
This isn’t gender related by the way. It is just Hubs doesn’t come equipped to save the world every time he leaves the house. Therefore his ability to take two children may well push him over the edge. For someone who can’t cope if he doesn’t have a plan, he sure as well can cope with leaving the safety of the house without any saving equipment.
The Perils of a Freedom Wee-er!
This problem has lessened somewhat a decade in. For example; we no longer need nappies. Way back when, they were the cause of many disgruntled ramblings on my part. The problem was exasperated by the fact Thing 1 wore Pampers and Thing 2 wore Huggies.
Laugh as you might at the ridiculous notion, when you’ve been pissed and shat on as many times as I have, decisive action was needed, and rigorous nappy testing ensued.
Picture this: The Hubs opens the baby bag. (Hahaha, sorry that made me laugh). Just kidding, he didn’t take it with him. On my instruction he opens the baby bag I packed and carried, to get a nappy out for Thing 2.
He pulled out a pampers, followed by a sock (and we’ve been blaming the washing machine all this time!), a gross bib, questionable remains (did the sniff test – inconclusive results) and at last another nappy!
Elation washed over me as I stood up to sneak around the bench. It was a lot less hassle than getting up and leaving Thing 1, or worse tandem change! She has always had the potential to blow a place down with her wailing. No idea who she gets it from…….
I went in for the emergency change in the hope that no staff were looking or that it stinks that bad you have to vacate the building. Both highly probable.
The Luuuurve Bubble, Baby!
With a perfectly placed needle into my bubble, I realised he had indeed, gone for the double and pulled out another pampers. Thing 2 has a notorious reputation of the freedom wee, so speed has always been of the essence.
Not something my husband often exudes (nor does Thing 1), unless he can see an Irish Pub in the distance, in that case he practically transforms into Usain Bolt.
Despite The Hubs speed, well, lack thereof, I made it with seconds to spare.
The bubble of pride for not getting pissed on was quickly followed by a Wife skill I am proud to share with you, the all knowing “I should have just done myself” death stare.
Fast forward 10 years and it is still very handy in a plethora of circumstances. My favourite being when the Hubs has done something exceptionally reminiscent of thing 2’s actions a mere second earlier. Engaging Chara’s death stare stating he needs stop talking through his food and chew with his (god damn mother fluffing) mouth SHUT. (autocorrect changed that to SHIT 3 times, shit, I fear I need to widen my vocabulary)….…
The Sniff Test
Why do we always feel the need to sniff something that we are grossed out by? Like the aforementioned remnants of something that could, and I emphasise the word could, be a banana. But as I couldn’t be trusted to recall that days shit-cycle on The Hubs command, there was no guarantee it wasn’t an escape-poo. As a nation, why, if something is weird or gross, is our go to response to put it near our face?! “Oh yeah, I know, this icky thing of undetermined source looks gross, lets sniff it”.
I guarantee should you find yourself in this scenario, you or one of the people in your immediate vicinity will sniff it because they “just wondered what it smelt like”.
I would put money on it, but I don’t know how to.
Bet Me Up, Baby!
As a naive 30 something *cough cough splutter splutter* I tried to put a bet on. Not your every day bet down at the nags (did I get that right?!), but one that I had hoped would be a sure fire thing. My beautiful SIL is expecting bubs numero tres. Both my niece and nephew have arrived on their actual due date! So I wanted to put good money, well, two whole English pounds, on it as a sure fire win.
So off I popped to town with the intention to go in to the betting shop or the bookies (I am so down with the lingo (who even says that anymore, I really need to be refitted with a shit filter)). I need to have a bit of confidence to go in somewhere I am unfamiliar with and ask a question that could either be expensive or stupid.
As I am sure will not come as a surprise, I was not brimming confidence that day, as a result I walked straight past said betting shop. I am a creature of habit, one whose only experience of placing bets is when I have tagged along, either inebriated or pregnant (wife brownie points I am still reaping the rewards from) with the boys to a casino, but I never fully have any understanding of what’s in play.
You’re everywhere and no where Baby!
Needless to say, the bet wasn’t placed in person. Then we decided to google, in the hope that surely there was a way to put this extravagant bet on. All of this effort to put money on a date. What were the chances? I have no idea, but I think I should have called them odds. Landed on a betting website and I was truly mesmerised! All these flashing lights are so pretty, oooo are you getting sleepy yet, yes, yes I am take all my money, its not true what they say, the house doesn’t always win*.
It probably is true to be fair, well from what I can figure out anyway. Maybe I need to learn the rules before I make such assumptions! But alas, no bet was placed and irrelevant of when my next niece or nephew chooses to enter this world, their arrival will not make us (naturally, I would have split thee winnings, given you know, the giving birth bit) millionaires. Damn it.
The cute baby smell will more than make up for it I’m sure. Well, lets be honest a million quid would be a nice icing on the cake, but a new addition to our ever growing Cheshire family is just perfect.
But hurry up will you, we are itching to meet you and Mama Bear is ready to POP! Let the eviction begin!
As I am accepting my fails of this week, I am hoping to put last week to rest and start a fresh on Monday. Hopefully with a new niece or nephew swathed in my arms, whose arrival incidentally may not make it a hat trick, it really has been one of those weeks,
*not based on fact, I think I heard on a TV show, either that or it was my Daddy putting the fear of god into me about gambling. On that note, if you or someone you know is affected by gambling please visit https://about.gambleaware.org for more help and advice.