Hemorrhoids, Zappos and Mummy Meltdowns | Life Love and Hiccups: Hemorrhoids, Zappos and Mummy Meltdowns
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Wednesday, 14 June 2017

Hemorrhoids, Zappos and Mummy Meltdowns

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Grab a cup of coffee or join me in a glass of coping cordial and come and sit down for a bit of natter.

If it's alright with you, I'd like to whine chat about the kids for a moment because honestly... I think mine might be out to get me.

No like REALLY, I think they are doing their best to send me to the loopy lock up.

You think I am kidding right?

I know, you are probably sitting there thinking to yourself "Sonia has gone and drunk the Conspiracy Kool Aid and now she spends her days running around with tin foil on her head because she thinks that aliens can't read her thoughts"... wait... I am a bit of a sucker for a man in green... do you think they really can read our minds?

I digress.

But I am not kidding.

I wish I could say that I am kidding, but I am deadset convinced that they have some kind of devious plan to trick me into signing myself into a padded hotel so that they can skip the nightly routine of arguing over showers, homework, chores and bedtimes.

I feel like we are arguing a lot at the moment. Like ALL the time, and about stupid things too.

For example, it took me no less than 11 requests (and some begging followed by a meltdown) for my kids to do their dog poop duty this afternoon. In the end I resorted to bribing one of them to do it by stealing and trading 3 Zappos from one kid and giving them to another.

Their bedrooms are a pigsty, there is clean still folded T'Shirts in the dirty laundry basket and the dishwasher conveniently went through two cycles before it was unpacked. To top it all off I found my Scholl foot file thingymajiggy under a pile of scrap papers on my youngest offspring's desk where he had been using it to make pencil shavings.

PENCIL SHAVINGS????!!!!

Some days I might be all about the silent fist pumping and self congratulations on my awesome mothering skills. Then other days I'm not.

On those other days.... I find myself questioning whether I have somehow managed to break those perfect little children that I willingly broke my pelvic floor in childbirth for, or... have I in my quest to have children who actually like me, become some kind of lame ass pushover who unknowingly led them down the garden path and straight into Turdsville where they have morphed into... little turdy people???

Now don't get me wrong... I love those children.

I love them HARD.

In fact I love them so much I would punch a billion people in the face to protect them.

But after the argument I had just today with a pant missing teen (the 'missing pants' were hanging in his cupboard in case you were wondering) and the argument I had with the ridiculously tired and cranky tween (It only took until midnight for him to finally go the f*** to sleep last night) it would be fair to say that yes - I love them, but I just don't like them... right now.

Oh kill me now, I went and said those cliched old mum words - "I love you, but that doesn't mean I have to like you".

'Gah!

But it's ok right? Because we can not like our kids for a little while but we do still love them.

I know that hiding underneath the snarling teeth and stink eyes, they really are good kids, it's just that clearly, every now and then (cough cough) they like to dress up and masquerade as cranky little hemorrhoid inducing turdy people.

And then... just like how haemorrhoids one day just go away... so too does the turdiness and I am reunited with my nice children again and we will be all smiles and hugs and double shot hot chocolates. with Zappos on the side.

OMG, I just compared my children to haemorrhoids... forgive me... it's has been a particularly rough day.

Anyway, my point is... well I don't actually have a point really except to let you know that if you ever find yourself having a rough day, week, month or year on the old parenting front... you are not alone.

You are SO not alone.

And next time you find yourself wanting to shove your shopping trolley into a litter of nicely behaved siblings traipsing along behind a glowing happy looking mum... remind yourself that she is smiling because she is so darn relieved that her turds have departed and she has her nice kids back again... after all, that's the only reason she would be brave or insane enough to go to the shops with all of them in tow... right?

Either that or the kids have been bribed with Zappos and she has self medicated herself with a Valium Mocha Latte.

Whatever gets you by I say.

Have your kids been to Turdsville lately?
Any tips for getting a 12 year old to go to sleep that DOESN'T involve Phenergan?