Plates of Poop

Before I had children I never understood parents who lost their cool in public. “You will never catch me shouting across a restaurant” I’d think. I’d watch junior make a run for the escalator away from their mum and think “those children are out of control- my child won’t be like that”

Fast forward a few years. It’s not even a restaurant I find myself in, but Macdonalds food court in Basildon. I’ve caved into nuggets as bribery to try and get my 2 children around 2 shops in one piece. Nowadays I can simultaneously shop, be on the phone, soothe the baby and screech at my toddler without even blinking. Sometimes I think my life is just juggling spinning plates of poop, hoping to avert a shit shower.

It’s not that I have a terrible temper, I really don’t at all, but toddlers do have a way of asking 100,000 000 questions a day, most of which they know the answer to anyway. There is only so many times I can listen to Gangdam style before I am broken. We listen between 20-30 times a day and have been since November last year. I liken it to Japanese water torture. You’ll probably go mad before it kills you.

Anyway, I digress, when pushed hard enough I have become a shouter. Not really at the children, but just at my sheer tiredness and fed up ness of always being needed. Sometimes I just want to curl up in a ball, on my own and not have to explain why “M” is a naughty letter, whilst having my hair pulled and trying to sterilise bottles.

I have a very good friend with twin toddlers the same age as Ethan and a baby the same age as Brody. When we are together it’s almost tag team telling off. You know you have made a good friend when it’s ok to tell their children off and you don’t even blink when they scold yours. Infact, they have just saved you a job. She understands how I feel. When we are together I don’t think we ever even finish a whole conversation, it’s all broken sentences, screaming babies, rowdy toddlers, sick, shouting and repeat. But it is nice seeing someone else go through exactly what your going through, and knowing you’re not alone.

So this blog goes out to all the other mums out there, I see you with your spinning plates of poop, Good job!! They say you can’t know someone until you have walked a mile in their shoes. Hell, I’m lucky to walk out to the car in my own matching trainers, and this week I tangled my laces and crashed into the garage door so I think you’re doing great!!

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