Tantrums, screaming, shit explosions, hair pulling, backchat, cold coffee, early mornings, late nights, no sleep, sharing a bed.
Above is just a few from the endless list of challenges we as parents face on a daily basis. Where the hell is our bastard medal? The fact that we’ve even survived another day of keeping the kids alive deserves a HOT cup of tea at the very least.
I often find myself in a daze of wondering what life would be like if I could stay out till silly o’clock getting rat arsed, by rat arsed I mean to point where I’m being carried home by some friend with shitty knickers, a black eye and 2 broken toe’s. Having no responsibility’s WHAT SO EVER would be mint, not having to schedule your next chuffing piss would be great too, oh and overall just being a 20 year old ACTUAL human.
That lil daydream lasted all of about 13.4 seconds before I was rudely interrupted by the minging wiff of fermented eggs (my toddlers bum holey.)
Now that is just a whole other topic.
HOW WHY AND WHEN did God think it was acceptable to give toddlers the most vile smelling fucking ringers on the planet? Like didn’t he think parenting was challenging enough? “Ere ya twat, may your sweaty offspring be full of toxic boffs and turn ya stomach turds.”
I was SO squeamish even when it came to the slightest little toe nail before having children, wowee how things change. Now I find myself scooping fat brown boulder shits out of the bath with my naked hands (just call me Bear Grills) and pulling humongous slimy never ending bogeys out of tiny nostrils.
Honestly though how are we still sane?
We’re battling through the day on roughly around 4 minutes sleep cos either we’re getting kicked in the spleen throughout the night (co-sleeping my arse, more like co-kickmefuckingheadin) or your child just point blank refuses a bit of shut eye like chuffing weirdo night owls.
Finding the time to shower is a difficult one too.
“Tut, just shower when the kids are sleeping!”
Jesus Christ Brenda are u some kind of robotic genius? I never would’ve thought of doing that in my wildest dreams. *eye rolls*
Ya see, your idea of a shower would be deep conditioning your hair, exfoliating in between each toe, getting deep within a rich lather of soap bubbles an staying in for a further 10 hours thinking about what snack you’re gonna have before bed.
My idea of a shower is.. super quick on it like vodka tonic hair wash, a quick minge pit and and foot scrub and turning the shower off twelve thousand times to triple check that noise wasn’t your child crying. Two minutes is all it takes.
2 minutes is a VERY long time in parenthood. You can get most things EVERYTHING done. Blitz the whole house from top to bottom? Oh yes. Make and scoff your tea? Not a problem. Completely transform the living room into a play area full of balloons, cartoon characters and every grain of the carpet a different colour? HELL YES!
Not only do we have to keep on top of the housework, we also have to keep ourselves looking somewhat human. We spend most of our time looking like we’ve been shagging sheep and trod on by a herd of hippo’s. It’s nice to at least have 1 wash now n then just so our partners don’t projectile vomit the second they walk through the front door ( poor twats.)
Wait..I feel like I need a minutes silence for the realisation to sink in. Am I ever gonna get the time to fully shower, dry my hair, put on some makeup, and actually get into clean clothes that STAY clean? (Am I gonna get that minutes silence either? Nope not when the toddler is currently taking a dump in the trunk of his toy car.)
Fuck the toys. Let’s watch a bit of children’s TV (oops bad mum alrert) . The only time we get to have the tinest 5 minutes piece is when those annoying as fuck presenters are dancing about making absolute tits of themselves. I could easily throw a bowling ball of 10 at their smiley faces but then again that’d be totally irresponsible of me and I should be thanking their cheesy arses really, they’re making my life that tad bit easier.
Talking about easy, is anything easy? Even the simple task of leaving the house is mission near-enough-impossible these days. From saying “let’s put your shoes on” 88 trillion times to packing everything but the kitchen sink in the changing bag, maybe we’ll get to our destination this year, or maybe I’ll just sack the idea off as a shit job and get the crafts box out. Anything for a simple life.
Being a parent is not for the weak. I REPEAT being a parent is not for the week.
May you have a shit filled finger nail free day and have a HOT cup of coffee. As parents, how are we still sane?
lots of love,