The days that start out with fabulous intentions but just end in poo (in my case, literally). You hope that this day is going to be brilliant. Everyone will be happy, schedules will run smoothly and life will generally be all roses.
I had an inkling today might be a 'poo day' (sorry I've been hanging out with my toddler mostly). When the morning was still dark and the birds only started to stretch their voices, I heard the word I detest the most, "milk, mummy, milk". "Say please," I grumbled with my eyes still closed. I don't know why we are still giving our 3-year-old milk. Probably because we know how rough it's going to be to shut off the supply.
My mum and dad looked after my two little boys for four days whilst we were in Auckland and in a Skype call to say goodnight to our munchkins, my Dad said, "Cor, you guys need your own cow," No kidding Dad. I go through several litres a week thanks to my milk-loving monkeys.
Anyway, I stumbled out into the kitchen after it became bleedingly obvious my husband was not going to budge. I wish I could lie there with my eyes tightly closed pretending I was in a coma. I poured the milk, took my toddler by the hand and flicked through the DVDs looking for the ultimate pacifier..."The Lorax". I'm not sure what it is about that movie but it keeps all of my children from the smallest to the biggest enthralled from beginning to end. GOLD to a mother.
I'm not proud to admit this but I may have used it as a tool to do important tasks such as cook dinner, clean the house and in this instance, get more sleep. I love The Lorax. Orange has always been one of my favourite colours. Anyhoo, I couldn't find that blasted disc. I scrambled under sofas, sleepy-eyed, I madly flicked through other cases hoping it had accidentally been put in Barbie in The Nutcracker, but sadly my prize copy of The Lorax was nowhere to be found. I may have then sworn under my breath and brightly told him he was about to watch Cars 2. The tears started..."I want The Lorax mummy," he said firmly. "Well, the silly Lorax has disappeared!" I said in exasperation. His crying started to get louder and I knew I'd lost any opportunity to catch more zzzzs.
I took my weeping muffin and tried to snuggle under the blanket with him. Baby H quickly joined us and I spent the next hour being stood on, little fingers were put up my nose and in my eyes, my tummy became a funny trampoline...meanwhile my other half lay untouched just centimetres away. Huh? Excuse me?
His penance: An early morning trip to the corner shop. We ran out of milk.
Do you have early birds? Or are you the luckiest person in the world with kids that love to sleep?
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