So since my last piece of shit post (ok it wasn’t shit…but I reckon I’m losing my touch quickly minus booze & drugs to assist my creative juices)…. I’ve been stuck in boring shmoring pregnancy limbo. You girls who have been pregnant and were previously considered “party girls”….you know what I’m talking about?! No booze – tick. No drugs – tick, wimper, tick. No fun – tick. Arguing non-stop with anything that moves (usually The Captain) – triple tick.
I’M PISSED OFF AND BORED!!! What the hell am I supposed to do?! I’ll tell you what. As of today, I started “nesting” (it was either that or fucking crying into a pillow for hours…or until one of the kids found me). I basically re-organised the apartment (ok, one third of it), delegating our Helper to do various chores in the process and even now, considering I LOVE being tidy (yes, its my only geeky thing I promise), I’m still fucking bored out of my mind. I even took photos of all the Captains shoes, printed copies off and stuck them onto the cardboard boxes. Yes, I DID. To be fair, this is also to stop him bitching constantly about not being able to find any of his shoes and then deciding the ONLY way he will locate the pair he desperately needs that day, would be to open every single friggin box until he found it. Does he clean up after he’s made this mess, despite stating to me matter-of-factly “Dont look at me like that, I’ll clean it up!”? Nope.
I’m lucky if the Captain manages to find the kitchen to return a plate. FYI, before The Captain and I joined the joyful institution (funny they call it that eh?) of marriage, I “trained” him (yes, like a dog) to put the toilet seat down (label on lid – “Now shut”), close the cap on the toothpaste that was forever dried out (“Now put lid on”), not burn the apartment down by turning the gas off etc.
So what happens to me the other night while half asleep and off to the loo for my millionth visit because this 3rd child of mine is making me piss non stop? I almost, no joke, fell into the fucking loo. Don’t you just hate sitting on a wet/cold toilet when the seat is missing? Especially in the dark. I, of course, woke him at 3am and told him he was a “selfish wanker” for leaving the seat up. Bless him, he thinks it’s my “hormones” that are making me this angry. I hate messiness. Fact. The Captain LOVES mess. He has had moments where piles upon piles of clothes have built up in the middle of our bedroom and for some reason, assumed, I was the one who was going to tidy this pile of crap up. You would literally have to climb over it to get out of the room. I never did tidy it of course, as, and I have pointed this out to him on numerous occasions, I’m not his Mother. He, being the messy git that he is, got the cleaner to do it instead. Yes, I still love him but I hate mess which makes me want to hurt him on occasion when I see it. If I have just tidied up a room, The Captain, without fail, will walk in and start putting crap down everywhere ie. socks on the floor, underwear in my bathroom sink (we have double sinks so why it’s in mine I dunno), putting his electric toothbrush on the black bathroom counter despite the BIG plastic cup I placed there especially to stop him marking it constantly, packets of chewing gum (not chewed) everywhere and change from a million countries strewn across all countertops so the kids can choke on them.
Anyhow, this week The Captain has left Hong Kong (no mess) for a work trip to New York (FUCKING LOVE NYC) and I’m stuck here with my little monkeys (Itchy & Scratchy) and now, Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum (AKA our Helper & her niece who is here to do a “trial test-run” over the next week). We want to see if she’s any good for the job as we need an extra pair of hands to help out once Baby number 3 makes their appearance. As it turns out, she’s worse that our Helper ie. can’t cook, doesn’t speak English and thinks I’m invisible when I’m talking to her. She’s good with the kids though.
Anyhow, the reason we need this 2nd Helper (aside from the fact i could never afford one back in the UK), is that as all you Mums of Multiples will know, to do anything with Twins under the age of 2 years old, you are usually legally required to have “one adult per child” for all activities.
So the new Toddler/Nursery group I go to (after leaving the shitty, snobby, cliquey, arsholey, “what are we going to do today kids?” one in Repulse Bay) also still requires me and our Helper to go along to everything. Not that I would ever send her on her own in any event as the woman is not fast at anything. The amount of times we have had accidents because she’s forgotten there are TWO children of the exact same age running around, is numerous. I on the other hand, being their mother, am fully aware of where each child is at any given moment. I also rule with an iron fist (kinda like Margaret Thatcher but with better hair) which means I kick their arses (not literally obv) into shape and they don’t misbehave. My son however, when he spots a woman with a weakness for him, will play on it and before you know it, has them carrying him around (& my guess, breastfeeding him), despite him being only 18 months old.
In the past, my Helper has looked at me in shock when I’ve told her time and again “DONT PICK THEM UP! Stop carrying them around! Stop babying them! Let them eat glue, they’ll learn eventually”. Basically, she thinks I’m a mean Mum. I’m not, but I am strict. So, the other day, when the Captain and I took our kids to some massive indoor play area that would be hell if you were hung over but is actually great for toddlers and kids up to approx 5 years old. A boy of approx the same age as my 18 month old, pushed him and kept taking his toys. After about 40 seconds of this little bully pushing and shoving and taking every single toy car my quiet little boy wanted to play with, The Captain heard me state very loudly (I’m apprehensive to use the word shout) “NO PUSHING!! STOP IT NOW!!” (little shit) at someone elses kid. He’s lucky he didn’t see the back of my hand that little arsehole. Anyhow…out of nowhere stomps his mum who towered over me and had AT LEAST 400lbs on her. I actually thought for a minute that she was either (a) going to kick my arse (b) eat me. She was in fact, a total sweetie and swiftly took her son to another play area (probably to get him away from me).
So….how do you Mums deal with this sort of shit as I can see myself losing it if someone is blatantly bullying my kids? I’ll be one of those crazy mums storming across the playground and having a go at some 4-year-old for being “mean”. Any advice on how to deal with this would be appreciated otherwise I’m sure I will be pulled into many a HeadMasters office pretty soon to curb my big gob.
That’s it for me at the moment. As you can see, my last 2 posts (apparently the last one didn’t go out to all my subscribers so maybe have another look when you get this one), have been waffle.
Why waffle? BECAUSE IVE GOT FUCKING BABY BRAIN AND THIS IS ALL I CAN WRITE ABOUT!!! Where’s a cold glass of white wine/Rose/bottle of Vodka when you need it. I mean, if there’s ever a time you need booze, it’s when you’re pregnant. At least I’d be happily ignorant of my body changing and all the hormones as I’d be blind friggin drunk. Shame I can’t stomach the smell of booze, eh?