As I'm outing the kids warts and all on this blog, I thought I had better include my own bad days.
Anyone that knows me or has been following my Insta ( Macie told me to stop saying Instagram and just say Insta as it makes me sound more current and less sad mum! ) knows I am partial to a good rant from time to time and on occasion full on meltdown.
When I thought back to meltdowns I have had recently, I thought of Valentines day 2017. So here we go in all its cringe worthy detail.
I pondered over sharing this with you all, as it is a bit cringeworthy but there’s no point pretending we are all perfect. So here we go. When real life pushes you over the edge lol.
Valentines day 2017. The day started off well enough.
We always make decorations and hang them around the house every year. It keeps the kids busy for a few hours and they love an opportunity to throw some glitter around and generally make a mess. We all then had a Valentine’s day dinner, for eleven not a cosy meal for two, because thats how we roll. The table was decorated with flowers and led candles,we don’t do real candles in our house.
Ten kids all under the age of twelve, nine of them around a table, shoving and elbowing each other arguing over who’s having the last slices of garlic bread, probability is someones going to either set themselves and /or the house on fire, so we give them a wide birth.
Especially since Sienna’s fire safety training at school, which has resulted her in being a bit too keen to have the opportunity to “stop drop and roll” someone then call 999 “ in a calm and clear voice to state name, location, and situation” She has relayed to me, my husband and anyone else who will listen, many times with far too much excitement and well thought out detail.
You can hear it in her voice, she can hardly contain herself each time, as she describes exactly how she would deal with someone on fire. I am torn, half proud half terrified. In total honesty I wouldn’t put it past her to give one of us a shove in the direction of an open flame in order for her to put fantasy into reality, her moment to put her new expertise into practice.
Which also would obviously have the bonus of getting her a fifteen minute slot on that weekday television programme where 999 rescue hero’s tell their stories of how they saved a life, while the dramatic music plays during the reconstruction. Sienna bloody loves that programme, she watches it transfixed, so being featured on it would be right up her street.
Anyway we got through the meal without any major arguments or food throwing incidents. After dinner we decided watched a film. The kids all sat scoffing my valentines day chocolates, while I flicked through family movies. Mallie then spotted Harry Potter ( great idea sky to add pictures next to the write up on sky movies anytime so kids that can’t read now still know whats available to watch) which means I can’t lie when they ask for BFG for the eighth time that week, as when I do I get a three and two year old pair of cocky toddlers call my bluff by simply saying “show me then, show me the pictures on movies” they might not be able to read or tie shoe laces yet but they are no ones fools.
So back to Mallie who was demanding Harry potter which, within seconds turned into a crowd chant of “YESS HARRY POTTER – HARRIIEEE -HAAARRRIIIEEEE” my husband and I were so desperate for them to pipe down and sit still by this point we looked at each other shrugged our shoulders and sighed so on it went.
Poor Harry and Ron were redundant, long before they even flew the car back to Hogwarts. The kids decided holding running contests room to room, and then doing hand stands against the walls and generally be really bloody annoying and feral was much more fun, while the adults of the house got more uptight by the minute and resorted to taking turns in shouting “STOP IT , just please sit it down, SIT DOWN and be quiet, or go to bed” and “this is OUR evening YOU ALL wanted this on NOW WATCH IT “ after about an hour I’d had enough.
The final nail in the coffin was when Macie decided to throw the sky remote at Savanah who was taking a breather from cartwheeling down the hallway and was sitting next to me on the sofa, however the remote missed Savanah and whacked me square in the face.
Hello nose bleed. Everyone was for the first time that evening silent. All watching and waiting for my reaction. Sienna burst out laughing obviously because her mum being whacked in the face is so hilarious the three older girls then started sniggering saying they wish they had filmed it for snapchat ( they are so loving at times ).
I calmly picked up the changer, wiped the blood off of my nose with a baby wipe ( got to love the multi functionality of a baby wipe) and off went Harry bloody Potter. I then started to mutter furiously to myself how “I am so sick of this fucking shit” I then started shouting “that’s it! YOU! YOU! and YOU ! no iPads for a week! and I am taking the sky cards out of your bedrooms” as pointed to the older girls “BED NOW, how dare you behave like this!”
( If you ever like me get in such a state you can’t remember your own child’s names, don’t worry a finger point in the general direction of the offending child and a stern “YOU!” is really effective on getting your point across) I also know how pathetic me saying I’m taking your sky cards is but, it’s the thing that the miss most when I take it away.
The three girls then spent the next ten minutes teeth brushing while stage whispering about “what a mental person mum is” before sloping off to bed. I then got the little ones settled and asleep, had a shower, but was still livid.
Meanwhile my husband had disappeared outside to take the bin out, check the horses water and anything else he could think of to stay away from me so he didn’t have to listen to me rant on about “how bloody selfish all these kids are” he knew what was coming. There is no escaping me when I am that livid.
I marched over to the patio doors and announced to him how I was “ sick of these day ruining little knobs” and then proceeded to list all the other reasons the kids made me want to pull my own hair out. I then started to list people and situations that had really annoyed me. This was literally anyone who had crossed my path in the last decade.
That included the man in the blue shirt, talking loudly on his stupid hands free, while nicking the last two packets of lean steak mince that I wanted for a cottage pie that Monday evening in Cambridge Waitrose back in 2014. – If you are reading this blue shirt man you knew full well I wanted that mince, and was about to pick it up, when I was distracted by my toddler throwing lamb shanks down the aisle, you selfish greedy sod. – Yes I am a Massive grudge holder.
Back to my breakdown rant – my poor husband didn’t really say much, as I was reeling off my (many) issues. He knows better then to have an opinion, or worse dare to tell me to calm down when I am in the anger zone.
He knows if he is not careful the fact he brought home diet lemonade and not cloudy lemonade on his way home from work when I was pregnant in 2013 “because he is a selfish self centred bastard” will be thrown into the mix. He also knows theres a lot more where that came from, and he doesn’t want to go to that place. He’s walked down that road and he’s not going again.
So he stood listening and nodding with the occasional “I agree” thrown in to show he was indeed listening to his mentalist wife, who was still standing on the patio in the middle of Febuary wearing a nightie, a pair of wellies and sporting a wet hair scruffy bun – just to really back up the I am a bit nuts tonight feel lol , so I can’t really blame him for saying as little as possible. I also recommend to any man who finds himself in a similar situation to stay quiet unless, you want to hear the words “well you tosser in 2010 you.. ” Just don’t go there. No good will come of it.
When I was satisfied I had slagged off every man, woman and child ever to cross my path I stropped off to bed still in my wellies, and still ranting to myself. Who said romance is dead.
I feel that I should mention that yes, I do occasionally call my kid’s day ruining little knobs but I only say it when they are in bed, asleep. So they can’t hear me. I would never say it to their faces. It’s a fully behind their back’s situation, and I only mean it in the moments when I am angry because they have been day ruining little knobs and in this occasion given a nose bleed from an orbiting sky remote. So there you have it. Meltdown english country mum style!.
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