Christmas Treats

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…

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Going to The Loo With an Audience

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.