Children. And Whistling.
That's right, I am having a rant about children. My own children. I'm horrible.
That's how I feel anyway but before deciding that I am a horrible, horrible person let me please explain to you that I am tired. Very, very tired. In fact I am beyond tired. And I have decided that tiredness is a good excuse for me to be a little bit mean today. I absolutely adore my kids (obviously) and I would lay down my life for them but for the last few days I have struggled a little bit with my patience. I won't bore you with all the gory details but here are a few highlights.
1) I have been thrown up over. I know that this is standard fayre for being a mother with a poorly child but I cannot bear sick. Of course nobody is going to hold their hands up and decare "I just love sick", but I really can't bear it. It makes me gag and it's not much easier when this sick belongs to my own kids. It makes it a bit easier to deal with but not much. Baby A is gorgeous and very cute but when he is sick on me I don't like it. Especially when that sick smells of banana flavoured penicillin.
2) Boy Z has learned to whistle. At first this was very funny and very cute. At 6.50am it is a little less cute. At 8.00pm, just as I have got the poorly, puking baby down to sleep the incessant whistling is even less cute. I must admit though that the woman that shot my husband the look of death in the Trafford Centre because she thought he was whistling at her was a particular highlight of my day!
3) Assignments. Boring, snoring assignments. I am nearing the end of a course I have had to complete to become a registered childminder. The subject matter is fascinating. The structure of the course is a joke and it has been driving me mad this week. Have you ever tried concentrating with a 4 year old and a 10 month old in the room? I don't mean concentrating on the latest episode of Greys Anatomy or concentrating to write a blog post. I mean real concentrating. It's pretty hard. The whistling doesn't help either.
4) Toys. I am sick to the back teeth of colourful, noisy, plastic toys littering my lounge. I normally don't mind but for some reason this week I don't like it. It's probably because I am craving sleep and a bit of space and the lounge is my safe haven and at the moment I'm lucky if I can make it across the room without getting some stupid toy car embedded in the sole of my foot. To make matters worse Boy Z loves setting up intricate games which are wonderful but it does mean that Baby A is not allowed anywhere near them. Exhausting! I have just had to remake a "no entry" roadsign for him because Baby A had got his hands on it.
I know I shouldn't moan really. I am beyond lucky in having such wonderful children and my husband is a diamond but I am really ready for the beginning of a new week. Hopefully a week with less puking, less crying and les whinging but with more sleep, more smiling... and dare I say it, more whistling?
I am linking up to Mummy Barrow's Ranty Friday and can't stress enough how therapeutic it is so if you want to have a rant then link up too!