I once read a quote that said, ‘Every mother starts the day as Mary Poppins and ends it as Attila the Hun.’ The school holidays always remind me that this is indeed the truth!
I start off the day with good intentions, wholesome crafts, a spot of baking, nutritious meals and by the middle of it, the intentions are out the window and reality hits; probably the only thing that reminds me by then that I’m supposed to be Mary Poppins is my lovely deep bag!
Number Two, is at the moment going through a particularly grumpy stage. He is happy for the first half hour after waking from a nap and then proceeds to grizzle his way to the next one. What’s even more frustrating is I have no idea why. Is it his teeth? His tummy? His muscles? Or is he just frustrated? I really do wish I was empowered with the mind reading skills that I’ve convinced Number One that I have.
A fellow mummy was saying the other day, how it’ll be so much easier once they can talk, and in many ways I know she’s right. The guesswork then is easier, a problem can be narrowed down, I’ll know whether to get out the Calpol or to create more entertainment, I’ll know whether to cuddle or to sing.
Yet, Number One is a prime example of why being able to talk doesn’t always make life easier. She you see has learnt how to answer back, and I swear at the moment that if I said the field outside our house is green, she would adamantly argue that it was blue. The pre-teenage sass is here with vengeance, and I can’t help but wish she was back to being my little girl, the one who still thought that mummy knew everything.
I do at least have the comfort that tomorrow is another day, and in the morning those good intentions will be back!