This is my day:
6.15am husband kisses me tenderly to the sound of birdsong. "Bye then," he whispers. I hear the door close behind him.
6.20am boys wake up.
6.22am baby wakes up.
6.23am lie there wondering how much harm could come to the baby if I leave her to the tender mercies of her brothers for the next 20 mins.
6.25am hear loud baby wail.
6.26am get up. Extremely reluctantly.
6.28am go to bathroom. Remember that toilet in rented house is broken and has been broken for three days. Only flushable with large bucket of cold water. Husband away for next four days. My job to sort out.
6.31am to 6.52am Change baby. Get dressed. Look in mirror. Think: "Bloody hell." Go downstairs. Find rice krispies all over the kitchen floor after boys went exploring in new packet to find non-existent toy. Curse Kellogg's. Explain adventuring in the cereal packet is a dangerous thing to do.
6.53am breakfast. Remember that gas cylinders for cooker ran out last night. Abandon plans for bacon. Recommend toy-free cereal and toast.
7.45am upstairs to change baby and supervise dressing for boys.
8.05am discover four-year-old flooding the bathroom having given his toy rhinoceros a swim. Explain flooding the bathroom is not a good idea. Indeed, dangerous.
8.35am get in to car and set off for school. Realise husband has filled it with petrol. Cheer.
8.50am arrive at school. Find school has introduced a friendship bench. Cheer.
9.15am leave school to take six-year-old to doctor's appointment for check up and jab.
9.35am chase grumpy baby round the waiting room, attempt to read book to boys, persuade four-year-old off the slide meant for babies, attempt again to read book, abandon book, bribe all three with white chocolate to keep quiet.
9.50am see doctor
10.25am return six-year-old to school. Ignore his plaintive pleas that he does not want to play out at break time.
10.30am head for friend's house. Congratulate self for remembering to put in car, gift for new baby and siblings.
10.55am arrive at friend's house for coffee and the adoration of the babii with other mums. The health visitor is there. The health visitor who was my health visitor. That went well. Hand over gifts, wrapping paper (in a nice roll, why waste it?) and card with the ink still wet. Drink coffee. Draw in deep breath in preparation for the rest of the day.
49 comments:
Wifey, your day sounds oh, so familiar. I hope your evening goes well.
This post should shut up those who wonder why you feel overwhelmed and need all the assistance you can get!
With all that rushing around, it sounds like you're going to run out of petrol v soon, Don't forget to fill up !
;)
Didn't you luck out with the health visitor?! lol
Life with small children is so much fun, isn't it?! Can I let you into a secret...life with teenger is just as stressful, though in a different way.
Whoops, it is too early in the morning, I can't type. That should have said 'life with teenagers....'
hurray for the friendship bench!
Been following your blog since seeing it referred to somewhere, in the Guardian I think. I wonder whether you are getting a little tired of keeping up this persona of the poor persecuted mother/wife? Presumably it becomes even more of a 'face' as time goes on; feeling the need to remain consistent to your constructed online self, etc? Also interested to know if you are at all concerned you may come across like a spoilt child at times? And whether flogging the 'grim up north' discourse plays a part in this (and if you ever consider how hurtful peddling this discourse might be?). Sorry, too many questions! But having asked them, here's hoping the rest of your day is good.
Tender kisses? You are sooo lucky!
Am shuddering with recognition re your breakfast routine. Hope you make it all the way through to 8pm: Large glass of wine, DVD and chocolate.
Not wanting to sound unsupportive old thing but every morning's like that when small infants are around. It was your choice to have them. Always supposing that nice-sounding husband didn't talk you into those too ...
Some of us actually run the morning marathon of feeding, cleaning, dressing small children, getting them to school, with all the things they need and their teeth brushed THEN doing a full days' work. Without whinging about it. Or not too often anyway.
Good news about bench tho'
qwkzexpWhy should it be that that the comment you have deleted is as intriguing as the ones published?
I find myself imagining what might have been said - but have smugly concluded that I am such an all-round 'good egg' that I wouldn't come up with anything even close...
Hope the rest of the week improves - don't like the sound of plumbers/lavatories etc. Good Luck!
www.landofsand-debio.blogspot.com
Well.... I am(and I'm sure all your other readers) still waiting with baited breath to find out what happened after 10.55am.....
Feet up, glass of wine and let the nanny take over is what happened next.
Have really been enjoying your blog, especially the experiences with your young family, but I do feel you have it easy!! You seem to have the luxury of 11 minutes before having to get out of bed and are able to get a decent (hot) cup of coffee a mere 4 hours 45 minutes later. You should try living in my house, with 3 under 2 who simultaneously wake up well before 6:15, my better half and a demanding lodger who all demand TLC before they would even think of lifting their sleepy heads off the pillow. I thrive on it and anyway, the morning is the best part of the day. You must come and visit, after all we have so much in common.
Oh look, the comment cowards are out in force again. Shame they are forced to come over here and read this blog time and time again. You would think they they would go and get a life seeing as they seem to think that Wifey has one and they don't.
There is small device called a mouse - use it and fuck off. You are nothing but a bunch of whingeing, bullying, slimeballs, hiding behind your smug anonymous walls. Get a spine and get a blog - jealousy is a dreadful thing.
Sorry, I didn't realise fawning was a condition of leaving a comment.
Bernard - "baited breath" - can you explain to me exactly how you go about baiting breath ???
Dear one, I usually don't have time to read the comments, I agree with Minx,
goodness though it is sad and madding to see the negative comments,
I did cheer about the gifts in the car, that is a weakness I have, I'll have a lovely gift wrapped and ready...opps, left at home...ugh!
9:19 anonymous -- Try following the blog a bit before judging us as "fawning". And perhaps you could at least have the courage to summon up a screen name. Otherwise, you just become another member of the nameless and faceless masses who don't understand the humor and pathos behind this blog, but insist on posting anyway. Yes, wifey can seem a pathetic wretch at times, but she's OUR pathetic wretch, and that makes all the difference...
Bernard: "bated", perhaps, as in "held"?
Making Friends Minxy :) Wifey doesn`t strike as the sort to get over excited by a cavilling note here and there.
I wonder what is going into the book.When I think of the diary form books people love they seem to grown and have a strange narrative going at its own pace. The problem may be that real life is slow and dull ..or is that just mine .
DON`T ANSWER THAT
catspaw, learn to spell before you criticise.
So why, dear Southerners and Americans (for you are this blog's target audience)is it OK for the wifey to criticise us and where we live, but it is not OK for us to criticise her?
Back in the days when I was getting on a school bus every morning, my mom used to walk across to the neighbor's house for a morning cup of coffee. I asked her about it once, and she mentioned that a daily routine with a friend was one of the things that kept her going. People are awfully busy these days, and sometimes they don't know their neighbors (or don't want to know their neighbors) but I think Wifey has created her own routine with friends -- and is kind enough to share the little dramas and satisfactions of her life with those of us who are e-friends. I think it is a return of that offer of friendship, not fawning, to support her. I hope that over time the anons who are bitter (and not all have been) will soften their hearts -- perhaps they are coming because they need to take a spot on the friendship bench for a while, even if they don't sound that way!
Can someone do a translation for those of us "across the pond" of whinging vs. whining? Are they pronounced the same?
"baited breath"
The classic version is a cat eats cheese then breathes hopefully down a mousehole.
To anonymous troll. Ok a typo. I mistyped it in the first place and let Microsoft "correct" it incorrectly.
I actually think Wifey's post was "baited" to keep us on tenterhooks" for the next episode!
third time lucky, i hope..I've left 2 comments already but they weren't published.
I sympathize with both sides in the "whinge" debate-I work 3 days and the other 2 keep me sane..but I do not have a nanny, and wish I could afford one
hey, my comment has been published!! i do enjoy this blog!
steve - it is not 'whinging' it is 'whingeing' to rhyme with 'swingeing'
I honestly don't understand that post, it sounds like a fairly standard day and everyone is shouting about needing help and more support. I am pretty sure that there are many mothers and fathers doing the same thing every day, maybe without a car. My question is...what did you do with the other arm?
Love the blog :-)Anything that creates debate is good, or at the very least better than daytime TV.
Making friends, Newmania? You know I am!
My cage is rattled because of the cowardly hiding, not the content of their comments.
Sycophancy is not conditional 'anonymous 2.18pm'. Everyone is entitled to their opinion but it appears that you sneak in and drop your comments on an open blog just for personal kicks.
Wifey's life fascinates me. It is vastly different to my own and I thank her for giving us an insight.
Cake anyone?
re comment deleted; Who did that? I didn't delete that comment. Can you delete your own comments? How spooky. Can anyone remember what it said? Was it a message? Was it you Lord?
re anon 1.15pm
fyi...
the rest of the day...
Struggle to get baby in car seat; drive home; feed baby and four-year-old beans on toast and myself foie gras. Ring garage (official gas suppliers). Nice woman takes pity on me and sends round man with two gas bottles. (Oven working. Hurray.) Ring landlords, plead for plumber. Play with and read to four-year-old and insanely grumpy baby. Put insanely grumpy baby in cot and shut door. Read some more to four-year-old. Send him in to sister. Fall asleep for one and a half minutes. Go out to car to discover I have left car door wide open for two hours. Battle with boneless, concave baby to get into car seat to go pick up six-year-old from school. Plumber arrives. Plumber personally disappointed in me for failing to know location of stopcock. Offer him foie gras. He refuses. Ring landlord. Twice. Ring husband in appeal for stopcock. Offer more foie gras down the line. No takers. Plumber says: "You need to know where your stopcock is. What if there was an emergency." I think: "If there is an emergency. The stopcock is on his own." Plumber finds stopcock. Says he does not have the parts. Leaves. (Not included in this comment:how many times I flush the toilet with a bucket of water.) Feed children pizza. Explain tomato topping is a vegetable. Contemplate drinking a glass of wine at 4.30pm. Resist. Bath three children. Breastfeed baby. Read to boys. Put children to bed. Turn on computer. Put boys back to bed. Five times. Drink glass of wine. Blog.
10.55 went to Threshers for 8 cans of Special Brew. 11.15 parked on park bench.
12.15 arrested for being drunk and disorderly in a public place.
A perfect end to a perfect day!
To A Northumbrian: As a Yank, I'd like a crack at this. I haven't yet seen wifey criticize (yes, spelled that way intentionally) either you or the area in which you live. She simply describes her experiences. You read her and then choose to take offense at what you read.
Put another way: I spent four wonderful years living in Merry Old. Yet the whole lovely time I felt like "a stranger in a strange land". No matter how hard I tried, I didn't truly belong. Most every Brit I met was polite, yet different. We truly were "separated by a common language".
Now, I mean that as merely an observation. You can take it as either a criticism or an observation. Your choice.
Yes Ms Wifey - you can withdraw your own post - I guess if you accidentally say something intemperate. Thankfully, all my comments are well judged and moderate. erm.....
oh good, I wondered whether you had brought down some strange little blog god to dwell among us
Wifey, Plumber finds stopcock, and discovers he hasn't got the parts. You should have realised.. That's par for the course. I have no cold water coming into the bath, I have to use a jug of cold water (several in fact) as the water is piping hot whatever the setting. Trying to get a plumber to look at it is nigh on impossible "down South", perhaps after all I should consider moving Up North!
PS Ive been out leafleting for the Local elections, Have you seen any political activity up your way?
Up here Bernard! Do sheep vote?
if the kids are flooding bathrooms and running riot it sounds like a good breakfast might help. Drop sugary crappy kelloggs and give them fruit...they'll turn into angels overnight....
Thank goodness for the glass of wine eh? And who are these miserable types complaining about your blog? Must be northerners...
www.helenafrithpowell.com
aminah said...
if the kids are flooding bathrooms and running riot it sounds like a good breakfast might help. Drop sugary crappy kelloggs and give them fruit...they'll turn into angels overnight....
In more austere times in the late 50's and early 60's my father used to go to Broadway in Worcestershire and bring back a car full of Victoria plums and Pershores(another plum variety).
My mother spent the next two weeks bottling them in those Kilner jars, and we then spent the next 10 months eating them in pies, , in crumbles , in fact everything you could imagine to do with a plum cullinary-wise and with or without custard or top of the milk(cream was unaffordable).
The only plus point was that it was very effective for ones' constitution!
I used to feel ill at the thought of plums, but I quite like a fresh plum now.
Does that make Bernard an angel now? An archangel maybe following all that plum intake.
Being at home with children is harder than going out to work with children. I suspected it all along. Endless days of expeditions to buy a postage stamp, village fetes blah blah.
Re: 'Whingeing' -
I just heard an Australian comic say 'whingeing' and it sounds like cringe -
Here in Canada and the US - we say 'whine' which sounds like - crime -
And is of course spelled differently....but they mean the same thing....
BTW -
I noticed that no-one made any comments about the rest of your hectic day!
Girl - how do you manage?
Simon Schama from today's 'Guardian'.
"When did you last hear a speech that good? Tony Blair's epideictic performance at the Labour Party conference last year won admiration even from his foes, but by and large the digital age is cool to rhetoric and, as the enthronement of the blogger suggests, prizes incoherent impulse over the Ciceronian arts of the exordium and the peroration."
Put that in your pipe and smoke it!
Great post.I thing this post should shut up those who wonder why you feel overwhelmed and need all the assistance you can get!I hope your day & night goes well.
I noticed that no-one made any comments about the rest of your hectic day!
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