Every day I run the gauntlet of either being a complete and utter shit show or sporadically I can be freaking awesome, when all those planned, little moments, fall exactly in to place.
Each day I run and run and run at full speed and pretty much achieving “f” all in the grand scheme of my ridiculous, human aspirations and desires. Hair brushed – still looks a mess, kids all out the door to school – only 2 out of the 3 will have underwear on or have brushed their teeth, sweep the floor – but it doesn’t reach the trash, washing done – but gets folded in 2 days time, put washing away, – well you might as well just put the clothes on as there are none left in your drawer; and so the hamster wheels turns and turns, relentless in its progress and never, ever stopping.
Today officially was a shit show.
8.00 am – kids to school – forget snacks and diapers for kid 3 – drive home, mild blaspheme.
8.35 am – leave again – off to swimming. I smile.
9 am – I swim, pick up K3 from childcare and he has pissed his pants (they are weirdly not allowed to change him in the child watch – bloody sucks) now I have urine all over my hands and washed for 50 Th time, I sigh.
10 am- K3 swimming lesson – kid screams a full 20 minutes in the pool, I hide.
10.30 am – my favourite sunglasses break as I chase crazy, escaping kid around the pool edge. I mutter.
11 am – coffee balanced in hand and croissant in kids mouth we brave Costco by singing the whole way round – head down, battle stance, lets do this. I run.
11.50 am – pick up kid 2 from school, K3 falls asleep in car, now I have to transfer him to bed, get out Costco shop and feed K2 lunch, I run.
12 noon – K3 in bed, K2 washing hands, me, I am being buried under a deluge of snack boxes as I pull open the trunk and they proceed to tumble all over the drive way, cooked chicken is ejected and explodes out of its bag and I am covered in meat juice. I swear repeatedly. “Hey, no swearing until you can drive, I warn kid 2”.
12.03 pm – lug shopping into the house and a 2 gallon apple juice falls to the floor. Balancing boxes I pick up the sturdy looking bottle, like a ninja in training. Only to realize its cracked and leaking, all over me, the floor and I now have this wonderful mixture of chicken, apple juice aroma emitting from my personage.
12.05 pm – desperately trying to decant at speed, juice in to drinking bottles and in among the over flowing sink of the morning dishes, I had not managed to clear up yet, I knock a 32 oz filled bottle of rescued apple juice all over the counter. I stretch my arm out quickly to rescue it, I proceed to whack over the drinking glasses next to it and propel them clattering and smashing all over the oven…. I’M SOOOOO DONE!
12.08 pm – I stand upright, I scream, I shout “fucking hell” as loud as I can, I bury my wretched face in to my gloriously sticky, chicken, apple hands and I sob and sob and sob. Wailing “I cannot do this, I just cannot keep up”. Like an absolute lunatic. 🙂
I am clearly prone to being a little dramatic, plus I think I scared the shit out of kid 2 with my emotional display. Seeing his wide eyes looking at me and the juice pooling on the floor, ready for an ant pool party. I begin to pull the frazzled strings of my mind back together and sit on the floor to breathe. I hug my little guy hard and we laugh at crazy mama. “Time for lunch”, I say!
There is no use crying over spilt apple juice……