Friday, 7 December 2007

A Mother's Morning Rollercoaster Ride

As always, the little blighter wakes you up far too early, and you just know you're in for a rough morning. You get out of bed feeling every inch the malevolent hag-beast that you know you are today, and the fact that he's demanding his milk right now isn't helping.

It's only 7:00 and you're already counting the minutes until his lunchtime nap.

This morning, he discovers that if he just presses the end of the sippy cup, the milk flows out of the end in a continuous stream, soaking your bedclothes.

Your mind starts formulating the letter you're going to write to the incompetent idiots who missed that particular design flaw, but you don't reach a conclusion because you know that once you get a minute to yourself, there'll be another 15 jobs demaning your attention that are far more important than wallowing in narkiness. You sigh, and resign yourself to buying yet another new cup, wishing you'd just given in and bought the expensive one in the first place.

There's no improvement over breaskfast, as he hones his aiming and throwing skills with some soggy Weetabix and your pyjamas. That stuff sets like cement within seconds, and you write a mental note to yourself - 'Must remember to scrape PJ bottoms before washing...'.

It's only 9:00 and you're still counting the minutes until his lunchtime nap.

You take him upstairs to clean his teeth and wash his face and hands, where he wriggles and squirms like a bag of angry cats. That job done, it's your turn, and as you sink into your shallow and by now lukewarm bath, you're hit on the back of the head by one of the balls you have thoughtfully provided to keep him occupied for the two minutes that you get each day to make sure that you are basically clean, and don't smell too horrible.

It's only 10:00 and you're still counting the minutes until his lunchtime nap.

It's Friday today, and there are no activities, so it's up to you to keep him entertained until lunchtime. You switch on CBeebies in the hope of some peace, but it's no use. You read every book he has, and although it's lovely that he likes his books, today he wants that really irritating one that was all the library had to offer, 20 times over. He's then seized by some evil demons of mischievousness, and proceeds to twang every nerve you possess, including your very last one, like the strings of a double bass. He runs from plug socket, to oven, to bin, to stairs, back to plug socket, just testing, testing, testing whether the behaviours that elicited a 'No' yesterday will get the same response today. He's quite clearly a budding scientist, because he seems to have an innate grasp of the fact that a quality experiment must be repeatable many, many times.

2 hours later, it's lunchtime, and your living room looks like an accident at a jumble sale. Still, it's 12:00, and there's only 60 mintues to go. You remember that The Husband insisted on cooking him chilli last night, and you sigh and wish you had put your foot down and insisted on Bolognese instead. There's no chance he's in the mood for something new. Especially rice.

In fairness, he gives it a good try, but spits most of it down his front. By this point, he's getting bored and ratty, and as the arm goes up for the kidney bean long fling, you whip the bowl away, take cover and woof the chilli down yourself, because by this stage, you really can't be arsed to cook your own lunch. One banana, many raisins, a grape choking incident, and a few Pom Bears later, you give up and decide to take him upstairs.

You try to change his nappy, and as usual, he's fighting you every step of the way. You put him on his back again, and lauch into a desperate, yet somehow hilariously ironic rendition of 'If You're Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands' knowing full well, that he's tired and not in the least bit happy, and he doesn't even clap his hands on command yet, never mind in time to music.

Except this time, he does. You're amazed. You sing the second line. He does it again. As you reach the end of the verse, you're both laughing hysterically at this wonderful musical interaction, and he laughs and claps harder and says '' 'gen 'gen" Six verses and one clean nappy later, you pop him into his sleeping bag, draw the curtains, find his toy and settle down for a cuddle. He's shattered but relaxed and happy, and falls asleep in your arms within two minutes.

Just as his soggy little thumb drops slowly from his sleepy mouth and you lay him gently into his cot, you start counting again.

It's only 1:00, and you just can't wait until he wakes up, and you can give him an enormous hug and tell him how much you love him.


Gypsy said...

Hi Mel, You don't mind if I call you Mel do you as we seem to be seated next to each other at AB's little shindig. After a few drinks there is no way I will be able to say Melissaria.....

I love this post. As a mother of twins I can remember the whole scenario very well. Kind of like one of those nightmares that never quite leaves you long after you've woken up....LOL.

I hope I manage to get through dinner without spilling anything on you. Merry Christmas to you and yours.

soap box girl said...

May I call you Mel, too? (I've already had a glass of wine tonight.) I'm sitting across the table from you at AB's party. Well, diagonally across the table.

This is such a lovely post! I don't have children, but I do have a niece. I recognize some of the same joys and trials from speaking with my sister about her. It sounds like a lot of work, but also very rewarding.

Happy Holidays!
Soap Box Girl

Aunty Belle said...

'scuse me while I wipe mah tears ...this is hilarious--

oh, Darlin' I remembr this--but, looky. I had one of them buddin' scientist--destroyers too, but he DID grow up, an now, I'se nostalgic fer the aroma of sweaty gym shoes...

Hang in thar'--jes 20 years to go!

Aunty Belle said...

Ooops--forgot to mention--I'se please to meet ya--we's table mates from Anon Boxer's blog party.

Melissaria said...

Hurrah and welcome to all the lovely commenters from the party!

I promise that I will make it over to your own blogs before the party's over, but in the meantime, I have a real life party to get ready for, and my designated driver has just let me it's panic stations as drinking tonight is essential!

Glad you enjoyed the post - we do have our moments, my boy and I, but he's so lovely and funny, that it's all worth it, and then some!

Elle said...

As one seated next to you at the party of the century we can scrape food from our party dresses together. My child is also a world class food flinger. In fact I think he holds the record in the yogurt toss.


Manuel said...

Hi there.....just popped in from Ab's party to say good tonight?

Menopauseprincess said...

Hi Melissaria,

I'm FINALLY stopping in from AB's party. Thanks for stopping earlier!

bittersweet me said...

when they are awake, you want them to sleep, but they look so gorgeous snoozing that you want to wake them ... oh yes.

my little one slept in a big bed for the first time last night; and i sat up to watch him.

Anonymous Boxer said...

Just stopping by to see if anyone needs anything, etc.

Perhaps an aspirin?


Melissaria said...

OK party catch up time, and then I'm off to Feedburner to see what this mayhem has done to my stats. Welcome one and all, and I do hope you come back; I don't just talk about toddlers and moan about ads. Really...

Gypsy: yes, it's funny, you spend the whole morning thinking 'go to sleep' and then spend the nap feeling guilty for not appreciating them enough!

Soap Box Girl: Glad you liked the post, and yes, there's always that conflict of they're lovely/they're awful - sometimes they even manage those two qualities simultaneously!

Aunty Belle: 20 years you say? Oh crap - and at the rate of two new white hairs a month, it's not looking good for growing old gracefully!

Elle: Your little one looks a bit older than mine, but has a very similar look about him...and a mean overarm fling to match, I'm sure!

Manuel: I was very good last night, not feeling so great tonight as a result, I'm afraid! More wine is clearly the only way forward...

MP: You're very welcome, and hope to see you here again!

Bittersweet Me: Yes they are angels when they are sleeping; it's a look which can quite belie what they were up to just 10 minutes before! Big bed time, wow, that must have been a big night for you all - did he manage to sleep through OK?

AB: Thanks for a great party, an aspirin would be great, but I'm pinning my hopes on the new glass of wine that The Husband just stuck in my hand before grumbling at me about having a 'real' life to lead as well! He should know by now that it's best I'm not allowed to talk to people when I feel a bit the worse for wear...

Aunty Belle said...

Hey Puddin'! Thanky fer yore visit to the Front Porch.. and PLEASE do send yore mate on over fer the Back Porch discussions--a series of three essays on Islam--we are about to move into Crusades in a day or to, but All the folks would love a new voice!

Yore boy baby is mostly joy--the cherrios and noodles ain't what'cha 'member when ya look UP into his grown man face and see what he has become.

Kudos to AB for her kindness in gettin' us all together. So pleased to meet ya!!