After the random events of yesterday, today has brought a bit more normality ( I use that term loosely) and has therefore been an interesting reminder of why I felt a bottle of wine was required in my life on most evenings.
It’s one of my non-working days, so I’ve been flying solo with the three smalls all day. Well, the biggest small was at school for just over 6 hours, but in a 17 hour day, that’s a mere blip in my book.
We had a productive morning; the twins and I took down the Xmas decorations. Or at least, I did, whilst they rolled around in tinsel, emptied baubles out of boxes faster than I could pack them, and tried to dismantle electrical equipment whilst still plugged in. All in all, pretty relaxing.
It was teatime (theirs) where it hit me just why I usually needed the wine so much. An exerpt of the conversation below may serve to illustrate:
“No I want to sit there, NO I WANNA SIT THERE” (cue screams, crying).
“Stop pushing your brother. Sit up at the table. No, don’t stab her with the fork, that’s not nice”
“Muuummmyy Muuummmyy muuummmy” (repeat ad infinitum)
“BUT I DON’T LIKE THIS TEA MUMMY” (screamed at full volume)
“Mummy – I need a pooh. Mummy, I’ve done a pooh!”
“Muuummmyy there’s yoghurt in my ear!!”
“Please don’t throw butterbeans across the room young man!! Will you ALL get back up at the table!! Now, please!!! Hello, can anyone hear me? Have I ceased to exist???”
Imagine about 45 minutes of this, with three children alternately shouting, refusing to eat, giggling hysterically, messing about, etc etc. All at full volume. You can only imagine the scenes of carnage later when I try to bath them, and get them ready for bed…
If you throw into the mix me trying to cook/wash/clean/shop & do 99% of all household paperwork and chores for 5 people, whilst holding down a part-time job, and getting the 3 children to school/nursery on time along with the associated gubbins they each require, and then getting myself to work and having half a brain left to try and be awesome at my job, you get the gist of my life.. My children are beautiful, often hilarious little creatures, and I love them dearly, but they completely exhaust me. My happy place is somewhere quiet, and dimly lit, where things are beautiful, and orderly, and I can read in peace for hours. If you’ve seen/read The Hobbit, I mean something a bit like Bilbo Baggins’s hobbit-hole, before the dwarves arrive. My reality is rather more like the scenes shortly after the dwarves have arrived…
Now I’m not for a minute suggesting I’m alone in this, or that this is a difficult life compared to what others face. No, in fact I think this is the life that many, many other women like me live every day. Which is why, after everything is finally done (or not) and we collapse, overloaded and shattered, that so many of us crave a fast-track to a numbing, relaxing oblivion, via wine.
And then we wake up one day to find that we’re addicted. Whoops. And then suddenly we’re facing another challenge to add to the list.
I’m very pleased to report that for once, I’m not craving wine today. But lord, I can certainly see why I usually do.
Right folks, my rant here is done. I bid you a fair evening; I’m off to drink peppermint tea and draw up some reward charts. For the kids, not me. My reward is their smiles. (She types, with gritted teeth…)
Postscript: 11.45pm. It’s struck me that I’ve soon forgotten Sober Mummy’s post re Gratitude yesterday, and that really struck a chord. So I’m now lying in bed feeling very, very grateful for my little dudes/dudette and lots of other lovely things, but also a teeny bit pooped 😉 Red xx