When kid’s get sick…. FML

Baby has been ill from the weekend. Infact, it has been a royal barf fest for days now. Not only that but, he hasn’t slept. As always, when they are sick, responsibility seems to fall to one person and one person only- mum. Whether you are a single mother or, have a partner, chances are it will be left up to you. Mainly because they want you and, only you but, also due to the fact that men can magically sleep through hours of high pitched screaming and projectile vomiting. Do you think that’s an evolutionary thing or a purely can’t be arsed thing? Answers on a postcard!

Being two nights minus sleep doth not bode well for anyone but, it especially doth not bode well for a day full of terrible two navigating/defusing and school runs. As hubby sauntered off to work wishing me good luck, I wanted to scream. After a night spent on the sofa, blissfully dreaming, he positively skipped out ala Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. Arrgghh!!!

He had no sooner stepped out the front door when middle who, I had somehow managed to dress despite being half asleep, decided to remove every item of clothing, bend over in my face, smack his belly then, his bottom and yell “belly, belly, bum, bum!”. The view was most certainly unpleasant, I can assure you. What is wrong with him? I decided the only way forward was some lazy parenting. Paw Patrol and Netflix it would have to be until I managed to get baby resembling some kind of presentable human being. Middle settled, I bathed baby. Five minutes after removing him from the bath and, dressing him, he simultaneously managed to barf and explode at the same time. Why God, why? Refill bath and repeat process. Right, one clean baby (for now), maybe I am winning again. Attempt to dress middle again only for him to remove all the items as fast as I put them on him. “Be naked then, I can’t face it anymore!” I wail to him. His response? Maniac laughing followed swiftly be the new, standard saying, “you stupid mummy!”. Naughty step it is (repeat this ten times). Like where are you Super Nanny? How do I apply? Deep breaths….

School run completed, homework done and, dinner on, I eventually calmed. Baby was napping, the sheets were all washed and, I was finally in control again. Thirty minutes later baby was awake and crying. Upon retrieving him, I was confronted by the sight of my freshly washed sheets re-barfed over. Fan-f#cking-tastic! By the time hubby came home, I was getting to the rocking back and forth stage. “God, why are you so moany?” he implored. BIG MISTAKE. “Why? Why?. Maybe because I haven’t slept in days yet still had to do everything I normally do. Maybe because I’ve spent all day dressing a toddler only for him to get on like he is auditioning for the Full Monty every thirty minutes. Maybe, because of this, I’ve had to stare repeatedly at an arse all day whilst being declared ‘stupid’. Even after all this, I am now making dinner for you”. “Sorry I asked, I just won’t talk then” he responded terrified. Acceptable answer.

I decided I would go bath baby for the third time but, get in with him to try and force myself to relax and unwind. Ten minutes later the bathroom door flies open and middle dives bombs head first into the bath with us. Maybe not then………………

 

This week I have mainly been….. surviving Christmas and becoming demented with middle!

We officially survived Christmas- yeah! Even with me being in charge of cooking the Christmas dinner. Winning! This was the very first year we have stayed at home with just us. No rushing about trying to get out the door with presents and various items of food to bring to others houses. The boy’s got to spend all morning playing with their toys and we got to set our own pace for the day. There was a slight hiccup on Christmas Eve when middle decided to keep getting out of bed. This resulted in me staying in with him until eldest woke us at 7 am by flying into his room and yelling in both our faces that ‘Santa had been!’. Rude awakening if ever there was one.

Since Christmas Eve, however, middle has continued his sleeping shenanigans. I don’t understand where this is coming from. He was always my dream sleeper. Infact, that was his most redeeming feature what with the no fear and recklessness. Now I put him down and, two minutes later he has come back downstairs. I don’t even look at him and march him straight back to bed. He cries then, repeats the process. The whole thing is made worse by the fact that before you even bring him to bed, he looks at you then, rather seriously states, “me don’t get out of my bed all night”. So, he knows fine rightly what he is doing. The night before New Year’s Eve he was actually quiet for 45 mins before eldest went to bed. Weird. Upon trying to put eldest to bed, however, it became clear that middle was at the bottom of eldest’s bed. Not only this but, he had ensconced himself under the actual mattress protector and fitted sheet to best avoid detection! How does he come up with these ideas? On New Year’s Eve we must have put him back down at least thirty times before 12 pm. At one stage he snuck downstairs, raided one of the cupboards and, emptied a whole bag of desecrated coconut all over my kitchen floor. I imagine the scene that greeted me was not unlike a normal day at Pablo Escobar’s house. I didn’t even realise I was in possession of desecrated coconut. What do you even need that for?

These antics have continued to get worse and we really have tried everything. I’ve been manically scouring Netmums at all hours and trying every bit of advice I can glean. Nothing will break him- nothing! I am now dreading him going to bed each night as the fight can go on for four hours (like last night). Even at that, he went over until 3 am then immediately resumed his earlier antics. This of course served to wake up the whole house. I am slowly losing the will to live here. On the other hand, I’ve come too far and been too strong to back down now. Anyone any tips?

More of this please middle and less of the opposite!

On a lighter note, upon me explaining to eldest that Christmas was now officially over and, there would be no more presents from relatives as he had seen them all, he looked wounded then said: “I am so excited for Easter now then”. Oh to be five!

 

This week I have mainly been… potty training middle and being let down by eldest (again).

On Saturday, I rather impulsively decided to potty train middle. Why do I do these things? I stripped him bare, showed him the potty, got eldest to do a pee on it and, awaited the magic happening. He kept sitting on it every ten minutes, getting off and exclaiming “no pee mummy!”. The next time he called me, in between cleaning, I was quite blase. But, it turns out he had actually done one. “Well done Owen!” we all shouted. “High five!”. What a smart little boy I inwardly contemplated. He then did a poo on it and, several other pees. “This boy is a genius” I excitedly announced to hubby. Then he peed on the kitchen chair. “Maybe not” I amended. After this slight mishap, he resumed going to the potty. I informed nursery of his success and they advised that I just bring pants the following day as he was doing so well. I packed lots of pants and a multitude of change of clothes. I then went to pick him up on Wednesday full of hopes and dreams that he had done amazing. Well, he had staunchly refrained from going to the potty once there. Not only that, he had had so many accidents that, they had ran out of spare clothing so had to put a nappy on him! Way to make me appear delusional son. Once home, I stripped him and off he went to the potty peeing away, without even having to be asked. Why is he doing this at home and nowhere else? I then noticed him going out to the back garden. This is not unusual as it’s normally to grab a bike and bring it inside to torture me. I went out after him though as I just had a bad feeling. There he was, squatting on the stones and doing a poo. Just like our dog. I think this is almost worse than poo flinging gate. My poor neighbours! What will he do next?

In other news, on Wednesday I took eldest to see Incredibles 2 at the local cinema. My sister and nephew joined us. I drove us all and, eldest and nephew were having deep conversations in the back whilst I caught up with my sister. She is a midwife and was telling me about being back at work, following maternity leave and, performing her first stitching procedure after a birth. I started telling her about mine after baby and how a doctor had come in after to check it and, rather unexpectedly, put his finger ahem, up my bottom. I was asking her if that is the norm (it is). Well, didn’t eldest hear this? He then spent the rest of the drive shouting “doctor shoved finger up mummy’s bum” and laughing hysterically. Sister found this all very hilarious, myself too initially. That is until he proclaimed the same sentence to the ticket man at the front desk. He looked seventeen, if even, and is probably still utterly traumatised. I’m sure he is still pondering what type of relationship I have with my doctor. What do you do in situations like this? Do you even bother to explain the context? I decided not to and just stood there mortified, wanting the ground to swallow me up whole. Note to self that eldest is officially a parrot and to say nothing ever again in his presence. Can also never go back to that cinema again which is highly annoying. On the plus side, the film was very good.

Next week has got to be better!

This week I have mainly been… loving me some middle!

Middle has officially stopped ‘poo flinging’. I have never been happier to type that sentence! Who would have thought I would even have to type that in the first place? Kids…..

The other day I took all three boys to the local park as I had no petrol and, no energy to go far after musical beds with eldest the night prior. When we arrived lots of other children were there, mainly older boys and some younger girls. The boy’s presence served to make eldest retreat into his shell. Middle, however, took it as some sort of challenge. Off he strutted like some kind of peacock, yelling incomprehensible mumbo-jumbo and pointing at them. “Why is he doing that?” I asked eldest. “I don’t know,” he said shrugging and rolling his eyes. I left him playing at the kid’s slide and went to help eldest navigate his way to the fireman’s pole. As eldest was about to take a leap of faith, I look over and observe middle single-handedly pushing all the older boys on the roundabout. He has only just turned two, surely he shouldn’t even have the strength to do that? Once eldest was down the pole and, middle had ceased offering his pushing services, I instructed them to go make friends whilst I sat with baby.

Having only just plonked my arse on the bench, I see middle hurtling towards me at full speed with the whole of the park running behind him. He has only stolen and, done a runner with, one of the boys band sticks. I take it off him and apologise to the boy in question for my son being a rampant, shameless thief. Everything is calm. Not for long. Middle has now stolen their ball and is running around the park dribbling it like Ronaldo, whilst they all chase after him trying to retrieve it. FMAL! I leave baby again to join the ball chase. Either I am wholly unfit or, middle is a very fast runner. It takes forever but, I eventually get the ball back. Exhausted,  I instruct them to burn off more energy. They then spend some time being relatively well behaved. That is, until middle decides to keep opening the park gate and running away multiple times. “Right, that’s it!” I yell. “We are all going home as Owen is being a complete nightmare”. Off we go to leave. Middle suddenly doesn’t want to go. “Let’s just leave and see what he does, that will teach him not to follow orders” I inform eldest. “But I don’t want to leave him, what if he doesn’t come?” worries eldest. “Of course he will come, he will be petrified at the mere thought we have left him on his own!” I smugly respond. We leave the park and walk halfway down the path adjacent. I glance back, ready to witness middle realising the enormity of his bad decision making. But, there he was, entirely non plused, solo see-sawing and loving life! Eldest would have been scared witless at the sheer prospect of me leaving, I underestimated middle.  Off I went to grab him and escorted a kicking and screaming toddler back to the car.

Later on that day, I was sitting on the sofa struggling to stay awake after the disastrous trip that was the park and the stresses of dressing eldest that morning. Middle saunters in, climbs up beside me and, out of nowhere clearly says, “love you, mummy!”. He then asks if I would like “a cuddle”. I felt tears welling in my eyes as this is the very first time he has ever said those things and, it really did come from nowhere. The day’s fuc#ery had now been replaced with the best memory ever- his first I love you. It’s amazing to me how stressful days can be but how, a cuddle, kiss and even some thoughtful words, can make it all worthwhile. My boy’s drive me bonkers but there are no other people I would rather have doing so. Especially as they give the best cuddles going! I’m going to try and remember these moments when they are putting me through the FML moments. Try being the word.