A day in the life of Mummy McMumface: The School Holidays Edition

Summer holidays.

I remember reading a blog once upon a time about ‘toddlers are assholes’ and, under a raised brow and with a ‘tut’ of judgement, thought ‘IMAGINE calling your child an asshole’.
Same with all those memes come September of parents delighted to be getting their children back to school. Why would they celebrate their little cherubs being away?! DisGRACEful.

Yeah.

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We are 4 weeks in to the summer holidays with about another 6 to go and sweet Lord am I losing. My. Shit.
While we’re on the topic of faeces, let’s discuss today.
So far, the summer holidays have been reinforcing the fact that one Mummy divided by 3 children does not go. (Single mothers… wow. How do you do it?!) What DOES go is my sanity.
Never is this mathematical equation more apparent than when there is a sick child.
Baby is going through something. Teeth? A cold? Something developmental? All of the above? Whatever- it has the same result, that she spends her day on the boob or strapped to me in a sling. But meh, that’s life with a baby.

However.
HOWEVER.
Captain Chaos has “gastrointestinal issues”, culminating in rather frequent “MUHMMAAAAYYYYYY, COME AND CLEAN MY BUUUU-UUUMMMM”.
And today….
Gathering A Sample.
Of diarr-f*cking-hoea.

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Eventually I had the ingenious idea of putting a plastic bowl in the toilet to catch the emissions.
Retrieving same then emptying the contents into a sample pot with a 6 month old on my front in the Lillebaby was one of the least enjoyable moments of my life to date.

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I had flashbacks to poor Samwell Tarly in the new Game of Thrones episode (which was also watched in snippets due to frequent ass cleaning stoppages. I swear to god, I never envisioned that quite so much of my time would be spent looking at the bum holes of little humans).

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And this was all after Baby had kicked the day off with a nappy that had exploded up into her armpit.
The poo had literally shot up under her armpit. We were both plastered by the end.

So. Yes. Summer holidays.

I have been trying to get us out of the house as much as possible. This used to be something I would rather have gouged my eyeballs out with teaspoons than undertaken but now, when they are in their car seats they are contained, they cannot beat each other up, they cannot destroy the goddamn house.
But now they expect a fecking road trip every day.
We had some uncharacteristically hot weather earlier in the week so thought ‘to hell with safety, I’m getting a paddling pool’. They’d been asking for one.
Saw this epic looking bad boy online and thought ‘they will LOVE that. It will blow their tiny little minds! SOLD to the desperate lady hiding behind the door eating croissants!’

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It was only left in the town where my sister lives so she kindly brought it up.
Well f*ck me pink.
I had not quite anticipated how much work would go into inflating & constructing Spongebob. My sister & I trying to figure out how to put a hose together was fun. (I felt like we were living our very own ‘lightbulb’ joke- how many intelligent, educated McAleer sisters does it take to put a hose together?) In the same way as grocery shopping with 3 children is fun- not very.
Anyway. Got the bastard assembled and a bit of water in it and they spent about half an hour in it.
Next day- back to pishing rain.
And yesterday.
So today the sun broke through.
“MUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMYMUMMY!!! Can we go in the paddling pool?’
‘Sorry boys, it’s not exactly warm. You’d get sick.’ Etc etc.
Repeat this debate for a couple of hours…
‘FINE. F*ck it. But don’t dare spend 5 minutes in it and then want to come back inside’.
So I put Baby in the circle of neglect, topped up the bloody inflatable bits of my now nemesis, Spongebob, filled it, wrestled with the stupidly complex bloody sprinkler bits.
Five f*cking minutes they played in it.
Five.
F*cking.
Minutes.
I had barely even cooled down from the exertion-and-rage sweat before they’d had enough.
And got back to how they usually spend their time- killing each other, complaining about being bored, wanting ham sandwiches and the bribes I pretend I don’t have and watching too much Television.

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If you haven’t seen this before, YouTube it. Honestly.

So, in conclusion.

There is nothing I can come up with that will stop them fighting, complaining and saying they are bored. And all they will want to eat are ham fecking sandwiches.
Toddlers- and beyond- ARE goddamn assholes.
And roll on bloody September.

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