Bad days

I love being a mum, I really do.  I love my kids with all my heart and wouldn't change them for the world, but sometimes being a mum is bloody hard work.

Yesterday was, in terms of being a mum, a Bad Day. Now my bad days being a mum are not often.  But lack of sleep had finally taken it's toll on my body and my mind. Going back to work was weighing heavily on my mind, if I can't function when all i do is spend the day on the sofa watching Jezza then how will I cope back at work!? Easy - I have an office that has a lock.  I have coffee.

Anyway, my bad day started when my night had been horrific - I lost count the amount of times Imogen had woken up.  So was wandering about in a bit of a blur.  I drop Blaine off at school and head to the doctor's as I had an appointment for Imogen.  She has a bit of a chesty cough, been hanging about for a while now, so I wanted it checked.  What a fucking waste of time that was.  I get in - I'm one of the first appointments of the day and, according to some stupid computer thing, my appointment with be 3 mins late.  Already. It's only 9am! So we sit down and wait.....and wait.....and wait.... 25 mins later we are seen.  That was a long 3 mins.....

"Probably Viral" is the response from the delightful GP (actually he was very nice, I am blessed with nice GP's who don't think I'm some neurotic mother or suffering from Munchhausen By Proxy) Now - those of you who have kids are probably used to the term "viral"  I'm sure it's medic speak for "I don't have a fucking clue, but viral sounds good and will keep you quiet for a few days" Everything is viral - "oh a rash? Viral"  "A wee runny nose? Viral" Apart from the one time Blaine had both a rash, temp, runny nose and they thought it was "viral" but it turned out to be Scarlet Fever and he was hospitalised. We leave, non the wiser about Imogen and her mystery cough (she never coughed once when visiting the GP - when we get in the car she starts her coughing nonsense.  GAH!)

So after a complete waste of time visiting our nice GP I pondered on what to do.  As I was having a shit day all I wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with LOADS of chocolate and shut the world away.  But Wednesday is Mum and Baby group day and I do like going to it - it's run by the local church and these lovely wee old wifeys who adore the wee babies and toddlers.  I get coffee, biscuit and a chance to see other mum friends. Most of these mums have lovely contented babies, most unlike Imogen, but they embrace us anyway and listen to my tales of woe sympathetically.  Also, Tom is night shift this week and he's at home asleep.  It's The Law that during his sleeping hours we must be silent when in the house or spend as much time out of the house as possible. So I decide to go.   I didn't do much, Imogen actually slept so I just sat looking like a zombie and watching all the other kids run about like loons. Sadly there was no coffee on offer - at this point I did actually think I was going to cry, but a wee cake perked me up a little. 

Imogen had a settle session in nursery in the afternoon, 2 hours, I dropped her off - she screamed. A lot. She's not daft - she knew exactly what was going to happen, I was going to abandon her for 2 hours.  How very dare I.  So off I pop to crash out on the sofa - I manage to score an hour nap (bliss) then I have to pick up Blaine from school and collect Imogen from nursery.  Blaine had a good day.  Imogen didn't.  Not a happy bunny at all.  The guilt of being a mum is not nice, but this too will pass. 

Ariving home my bad day is about to get about 1 million times worse. The kids are grumpy, hungry, thirsty, tired, the house is a tip, and then Tom gets up.  I take this opportunity to be child-free for 15 mins to make the tea - bliss I think.  Sadly not.  Tom starts to complain about the size of pot I'm using to cook the spaghetti (WTF!?) then moaning about Imogen and her grumps. Imogen is exhausted and over-tired, which is now a total nightmare and she's not wanting to sleep.  I have never understood babies - you're tired, don't complain, just go to sleep! You're comfy in bed, cosy, fed, watered, cleaned, nothing wrong - sleep.  But, no, not Imogen, screaming is much more enjoyable.  At 7pm Tom's had enough and fucks off to band without saying goodbye.  Nice one.  You can imagine how delighted I was at that.  How he still has his testicles in tacked is surely a miracle.  Imogen decides that she's not going to bed at all - and I then have a further 90 mins of hell. 

Eventually I have 2 kids in bed and I decide that it's been such a shit day i will crack open the wine.  There's no wine.  Livid doesn't come close.  By now I'm actually close to tears - so decide that an early night is in order.  I go to bed.  Get woken up by Tom dropping off cat litter and muttering loudly to himself at 9:30pm, he then slams the door so loud when leaving he wakes up Imogen. 

He will now be in serious trouble in the morning.  I have so many nasty words going round in my head I get annoyed and can't sleep.  I'm raging. Imogen finally settles. So my bad day was over and done with.  But my bad day turned into a hellish night.  Ugh. 

Today has been a much better day as it involved going out for lunch and Tom realising that, yes, he had been a total twat of a man and in order to save his bollocks he did the hoovering, emptied the washing machine, made the tea, sorted Blaine and was actually a good husband.  Miracles do happen.  He not back in my good books yet though.... when out for lunch I had a wee wander around the shops and spied some nice jewellery that I like the look of. I also need a new bag for work and some work clothes.  Yes, I think that might just do it........