I got sick of watching Peppa this morning so, on a spur of the moment, decided to dig out my inner Supermum (she’s getting increasingly difficult to locate, the pompous bitch), and took the little angels to toddler group.
Things went to shit before I even got out of the car. I managed to reverse into a telegraph pole (thanks, dear husband, for buying a vehicle the size of a small planet without parking sensors). After quickly checking no one saw and satisfied the telegraph pole was still standing (albeit slightly wonky), I went to haul the buggy out of the boot for Daisy.
I clipped her car seat in and went to retrieve Theo. He then had a delightful tantrum because he decided he would rather stare at a field by the parked car for all eternity than go to the toddler group. In hindsight, I probably would have preferred to do this too, but Daisy had just done a foul smelling shit so I hissed at Theo under my breath, telling him I was about to lose the plot unless he got a wriggle on. This didn’t work, obviously, so I tried to bribe him with biscuits. For some reason, this made him even more pissed off and red in the face.
This is when I lost it. I put both children back in the car, then threw the buggy into the back. I managed to close the effing boot after adjusting the position of the buggy several times, whilst emitting an unearthly banshee shriek in the process of doing so. I seemed to attract a lot of unwanted attention from other mums going into the hall with their little cherubs which was a tad embarrassing.
I then got into the car and sobbed. And screamed a bit. I think this moment had been building for several days. Theo is now in full on toddler mode, and Daisy’s been teething. My life is just one constant whinge from one or both of my children. I love them both dearly but my god sometimes they make me want to take one of Zac’s recently purchased power tools to my face.
Anyway, after a few minutes I managed to calm down a bit. I decided the least I could do was take them to the sodding toddler group as I had gone through the lengthy process of getting out of the bloody house. Plus I couldn’t face going home only to be subjected to more Peppa. Not just yet anyway. I gave both kids a cuddle and a kiss and told them how Mummy was sorry and that she loved them dearly, and promised never to raise my voice at them again. Ever.
I then had to face the seven or eight mothers that had witnessed my meltdown getting the buggy in the boot. I got a few sympathetic smiles which, of course, I returned trying to look as sane as possible.
After changing Daisy’s nappy, I sat down and overheard a couple of mums mention to each other that a ‘special guest’ would be joining us as it’s half term week. I thought to myself ‘oh how nice. See it was worth coming out. Perhaps they’ve managed to book Tom Hardy to provide us with another story about clouds’.
To my horror, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The attached picture says it all. I took the kids out of the house to escape this monstrous bitch and there she is, waiting for me at bloody toddler group. A very terrifying, nightmare-inducing version of her. What next? Will she jump out at me from behind the baked beans when I’m in Aldi on Monday? Or creep in and take a seat beside me when I’m in the doctor’s surgery waiting room on Tuesday? Needless to say Theo couldn’t have looked less impressed, so I grabbed a handful of complimentary biscuits and got the hell out of there.
Tomorrow will be better. Happy Friday everyone!