Wednesday, 25 April 2018

A day in the life


The first thing I like to do when I get up, after being batted in the face by Riv's hulk hands, is to assess the damage of my milk leak. I will deliberate whether to change the bedsheets or not, usually not (always not) and then brace myself for Rivers morning poo. The ferocity of the morning nappy is parallel to about 10 espresso shots; really gets you wide awake and ready to take on the day. We've reached the point where River thinks its hilarious to kick and roll around when being changed, so I either get shit kicked at me or I have to get Jason to hold his arms while I do it. It's like wrestling a tiny drunk person.

We do breakfast now. It's ever so civilised. Dictator baby shouts at me when I don't spoon the weetabix into his mouth quick enough. I give him a banana to hold and munch on in-between these spoonfuls and he's usually got one eye on Postman Pat, which means half his breakfast ends up in his nostrils. The great thing about weetabix is, it dries at such a ridiculous rate that you have to perform microdermabrasion on your childs face to get it off. Where is his fresh, organic, handpicked, gluten free, dairy free expensive breakfast you ask? Up your ass. Because funnily enough, I didn't have enough time in-between the shit wrestling and getting him (marginally) dressed to get that prepared. The kid loves weetabix and squishing bananas into his face, what can I say? Riv then likes to do his morning exercise which consists of rocking on his knees and spinning on his tummy. He reckons he saw the routine on a Davina McCall dvd.

No matter what kind of mood I'm in, I like to try and go to baby groups as much as possible. Mainly because Jason thinks I'm turning into a sad mum recluse, but also because it's actually not that terrible to be with other people who have had the same kind of morning as me. Even if all I do is compare poo stories, it's worth getting over myself and making an effort to go (An effort usually means a 45 second shower and possibly just a glance over at my makeup bag) Wherever we are, Riv will politely tell me he's hungry by making an ugly cry face and pulling at my top to reveal my Dolly Partons to the world. Alfresco dining has become quite popular at the breastaurant. We both feel that the ambience of a supermarket car park really enhances the experience. It's also a great opportunity for me to stare aggressively at passers by who seem to look uncomfortable at the prospect of a mother feeding her child in her car. I'm always on guard, preparing to chase down and squirt someone in the eye with my milk if they even HINT at being offended by breastfeeding. I'll sit on the fucking car bonnet to do it next time.

When I get back home and l need to empty the dishwasher/ tidy ANYTHING/ get on with my sodding life, I'll put River in his baby walker and he'll tear shit up. He'll handbrake turn into the doorways and reverse into my kitchen cupboards before trying to open and rifle through them like he's on Ready Steady Cook. It's not a normal Monday until I've prized the colander from his dribbly grip and made him scream like I'm the worst mum in the world. If by some miracle I DID change those bedsheets and put some washing on, I like to forget about it until the point I have to rewash the load. Then once I've hung it out, I require at least one rain shower and re-drying before I'll remember to bring it in. This system seems to really help the shitload of dirty clothes that pile up in the basket and haunt my dreams.

When it comes to eating my dinner (which is always made my Jason. Who has been at work all day. Much appreciation for the kindest dad/boyfriend/chef ever) I have perfected the art of scoffing one handed which means the days of Jason and I taking it in turns to eat our meal are long gone. It's far easier to let River sleep on me for a bit while I enjoy my food, than to have our meal time soundtracked by relentless screaming over the monitor.
Bedtime, as you know, is spent as silently as possible while Riv is sleeping. We like to enjoy our "alone time" together watching a film. When I say watching a film, what I really mean is we'll take turns scrolling through Netflix complaining there's nothing on there. We'll eat penguin bars and discuss decorating ideas instead.

That's until Jason rustles his penguin wrapper too loud...

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