The relentless tantrums, endless pigsty of a house, and constant panicking rush, has left me empty this week. It is as if my soul has been sucked right out my boobs.
Both babes have been clinging to me like starfish to rocks lately. If one stops whining, the other will start. I stood in the kitchen yesterday, whipping up Blakes avocado sammies at the speed of light in order to rescue Oscar, who was crying out for (more) love; only to have those sandwiches smushed into the carpet leaving bright green stains for me to sponge out in my spare 5 minutes. Yeah cheers Blake. Carpet cleaning is exactly what I want to do whilst listening to the grizzling chorus of you and your brother grow louder by the second.
Whilst I cleaned the carpet, I neglected to notice the colouring pencils dangerously sprawled out in the lounge. It was too late. The walls now feature Blakes debut masterpieces, in dark purple. Of course she wouldn't pick up the yellow pencil, that's just silly- then what would Mum have to do? Yellow is far too faint to clean.
Meanwhile, Oscar is fed, changed, warm, fed again, burped, and clearly tired from the vigorous eye-rubbing & many yawns. I put him down, following the signs, and what ensues? Two hours of tears. Why would you sleep little guy? Why would you when you can scream?
When I put on some tunes to drown out the wails, and regain some composure, he cries louder.
This would actually all be ok, had I been getting a full nights sleep. I'm not. Oscars up at 10, then 2, then 4, and finally 7 for a proper good morning. Can't say I'm overly stoked to see him by then.
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU INFANT?!!
.... Is what I feel like screaming at him. I don't. I just continue on with the carousel of duties; feed, change, burp, feed, burp, swaddle, sleep. Not because I want too, because I have too.
Daytime drinking is still frowned upon right? Society ruins all the fun.
Joking...
In all seriousness, I feel like crying into my cold cup of coffee this morning. The house has begun to resemble a prison cell- leaving with two in tow is just ridiculously difficult. 'Cleaning' lasts all of around 5 minutes before the toddler tears through like a tornado. Cooking has become a rushed chore, the quicker the better; my poor ol' taste buds dont dig it. Intellectual stimulation is at an all time low. Sleeping is broken, washing is a miserable-go-round, walking our streets is fast becoming a bore, and showering involve two minutes of vigorous scrubbing whilst B bangs on the door, and Oscar grizzles impatiently at her feet.
Needless to say, my legs desperately need shaving.
Life is not like Wisteria Lane at all. Those immaculate bitches are liars.
You may be wondering how I manage to find the time to blog amongst the chaos. Well, I kid you not, I currently have the baby on the swing on the bench (it's fairly safe), badly singing nursery rhymes for his amusement, whilst simultaneously chopping up veggies, & trying to ignore Blake impatiently shaking the toddler gate wanting her "nyum nyums". I'm writing one sentence every few minutes.
I will repeat, fuck parenting is hard.
At least it's Friday, which means the carousel continues, but Oli jumps on- and the extra set of hands is heavenly. Who knows, I may even manage to escape the house for 1-2 hours this weekend. There is always hope!
I feel remarkably better for offloading that onto you all! Gotta scoot anyway, Oscar has just dropped a bottom lip- it's all downhill from here.
Hope you all have a lovely weekend!
Thought of the day "
Took the words right out of my mouth.
Gemma
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