I’m sure we’ve all witnessed an argument in public. Be it a couple, friends or even a parent and child, people can lose their shit with each other in any place at any time. It happens.
So why on earth do I think these arguments are like YouTube? Well, the things that connect them in my opinion are: they’re both amusing, you don’t really understand what’s going on and you’re not sure you actually like it but you just can’t stop looking!
YouTube is filled with so much craziness and pointless activities that we probably shouldn’t find it entertaining. Opening a box to show what’s inside, tipping coloured slime into a toy bath and even people walking round the shops are just a few things I’ve seen while the kids have been glued to the screen.
The first thing that usually goes through my head is ‘what the fuck, why would anyone watch this shit’ but then after about an hour I realise that I’m still watching that shit. I’m even suggesting which videos to watch next and stopping the kids from switching to another video before the one playing has finished because I just have to see how it ends.
I still can’t work out why this happens but then I’ve never been able to figure out why a public argument is so appealing either. Who knows, who really cares. I guess entertainment comes in all forms and we just have to accept it for what it is.
Now please excuse me while I go and learn about colours on the latest Sparkle Spice YouTube video. Woo hoo!
Father Christmas was very kind to our household this year, we all had lots of lovely treats.
There were a few treats we could’ve done without though.
You may remember that we were plagued by coughs and colds at the beginning of December. I thought we were on the mend but at 3am on Christmas morning came a really fun twist (not really fun but I’m trying to pretty things up here).
We woke up to change and feed Thing 4, all quite normal so far. Hubby was downstairs making the bottle while I changed the nappy on the bed (Thing 3 was also in bed with us as she always ends up in there before the night is over). I had just undone Thing 4’s nappy when I heard gagging next to me, I looked across to Thing 3 who was throwing up huge chunks of stinky puke all over Bears side of the bed. I quickly pulled her hair back and began rubbing her back to soothe her but then I realised Thing 4 had her bits out and could pee or poo over me at any moment!
After a quick nappy change hubby came to my rescue and helped clear the mess up as I stifled more than a few giggles at the fact she puked on his side rather than mine. *Does evil laugh*
So that started our day off beautifully, treat 1 done and massively enjoyed… not.
Then on Christmas afternoon, after we’d received some treats that we actually did enjoy, Thing 3 was crouched in the hallway playing with her new toys when we were overwhelmed by the most rancid smell I have ever had the displeasure of smelling. We all looked at each other, clearly thinking the turkey farts had started early this year, before realising that the smell was coming from the hallway. Poor Thing 3 had literally exploded. The watery crap was all down her legs, over her feet and, the very best part, all over the floor. Yay. Merry fucking Christmas.
Christmas 2016 will be forever etched in our minds as the year of the unwanted treats.
For anyone who may be concerned, Thing 3 received lots of love and cuddles and is slowly making her recovery after infecting the rest of the household with her treats.
The saga continues…
If you’re 1 of my 48 followers on Twitter you might have seen that the bloody winter illnesses have been doing the rounds in our house.
During this fandabbydozy time we went through boxes of tissues like they were going out of fashion, coughing up god knows what and neglecting the housework so it looked like we were living in an actual pigsty.
As a poorly mum I still had to look after 2 kids under the age of 3 (who were also feeling shitty) while simultaneously trying to make sure the older 2 (again feeling shitty) had everything they needed for school/their social lives. Keeping them fed and watered was also important and this is why the takeaway became my saviour.
My already lard-arse body is now several lbs heavier thanks to the easiness of being able to click a few buttons on the computer and order our food to be delivered (mostly hot) ready to eat.
Since when did it become so sodding easy though?? I didn’t even have to pick up the phone and try to explain the complicated needs of my incredibly fussy kids. There were no language barriers or confusion when I had to order a quarter pounder with cheese without cheese. Just clickety click click and the food was being prepared while I sat on my fat arse cuddling Thing 4 and watching CBBC with Thing 2 & 3. Being a typical teenager, Thing 1 doesn’t leave his pit until the food is actually ready to shove in his gob. God forbid he spend some time with his family. *Rolls eyes*
The hardest part of the whole experience was having to get up and answer the door!
Now I’m feeling better we’re getting back to normal but I have a feeling I might find myself “accidently” clicking on those buttons again soon. It’s far too easy not to.
I have no doubt that parents everywhere will know exactly what I’m talking about here.
That moment when you try to sneak into the loo for a quiet release only to have a little chatterbox follow you in. Sometimes there’ll be more than 1 bogcrasher and you end up squeezed into the tiny space like a tin of sardines. All while you’re trying to do the do (or doodoo depending on the situation).
When Bear is at work and I’m on my own with Thing 3 and Thing 4 I kinda expect it, better they’re both safe in the loo with me than playing with the knives alone in the kitchen. This in itself takes some serious planning, I’ve learnt to start preparing for the big event well in advance to reduce the likelihood of me peeing my pants, or worse.
Firstly I have to move all of Thing 3’s toilet training equipment out of the way so I have room for Thing 4’s bouncer. Then I strategically place the bouncer so she’s close enough for me to be able to get to her if needed but far enough away that she doesn’t get a close-up view of her very first home!
Then in comes Thing 3 with her stool (nope, I’m not talking about poo yet), she has found the perfect (for her not me) spot for it so she can sit and chat to me while simultaneously winding Thing 4 up. Yay. Please remember I’m still trying to empty my bladder/bowels at this point and I’d actually quite like to concentrate on that thank you very much.
When Bear is home it doesn’t matter how frigging stealthy I am, I still can’t get in that room by myself. I’m starting to think Thing 3 can read my mind and knows where I’m headed. Maybe she thinks I actually want company while I’m going, that I need to be entertained. The other day I was treated to a wonderful roly poly performance as I sat there with my trousers round my ankles. Who said motherhood wasn’t glamorous?!
There was one time though, and I have no idea how I managed it, that I found myself in the loo. By MYSELF! I felt a bit confused and daydreamed for a little while. What was I doing? Oh yeah, going to the loo. But where was the chatter? Where were the gymnastics routines? It was a great moment and I swear I could hear angels singing as I washed my hands (again by myself, without a pair of little hands squirting Carex everywhere) and left the loo in a happy daze.
I may have won the battle but I’m pretty sure I know who’ll win the war.
Have you ever heard the phrase ‘like a red rag to a bull’? Well that’s exactly what a Christmas tree is to a 2-year-old.
Thing 3 has been on a permanent high ever since we fished out our fake snow-covered tree. I have to admit that she already had feral tendencies but now that the Christmas tree has been erected (can’t help but giggle at that word, no I haven’t quite grown up yet) the feralness has turned up several notches.
Not only do we have frigging fake snow all over the floor (whose genius idea was it to get a snowy tree anyway?) but we also have baubles and beads flying in all directions. It’s not much fun standing on a sparkly star let me tell you. Honestly who actually thinks it’s sensible to make a tree decoration as sharp as a pissing scalpel? But then who actually thinks it’s sensible to buy the sodding things? Oh yes, apparently at some point I thought all of the above things were a good idea. *Rolls eyes*
So anyway, it’s been up one day and I already want to throw it out the chuffing window!
I can’t even remember how many times I’ve threatened to take it down or told her that Santa won’t bring her presents if she keeps being a little bugger (obviously I said pickle instead of bugger but I was bloody well thinking the other word).
I’ve even made a deal with her – “you can play with the baubles as long as you put them back on the tree when you’re finished”. I think that’s massively reasonable of me. I know that my tree is gonna look like shit by Christmas Day but if she could please pick up after herself then I’m perfectly ok with it. Job done, or not. I may as well talk to a brick wall.
It’s gonna be a long December!