Wet Mondays: Autumn is a bastard

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Wet Mondays: Autumn is a bastard

Well goodbye summer… and hello autumn.

With late September comes conkers, browning leaves, the smell of bonfires lingering in the air… The nights are drawing in earlier, just perfect for snuggling. Hot chocolate is mandatory and of course, there’s  the ability to hide excess pounds with thick woolly jumpers. That all sounds quite lovely and romantic doesn’t it?

Well it ISN’T.

Autumn also means COLD, DARK and RAIN. Autumn is a BASTARD, and only marginally more acceptable than winter which is colder, darker and wetter but with the addition of Christmas hell to get through.

I really want to be that person that finds wandering in the wilderness to the sound of the rain pattering on my waterproof jacket fun and therapeutic, the person that enjoys splashing in muddle puddles with a delighted squeal and collecting fallen leaves… But I’m not. And neither are the kids. Even getting them from the house to the car when it’s a big soggy outside is met by universal complaint. No amount of pumpkin spiced latte is going to make up for the fact that everyone is sodding miserable.


And to add insult to injury, today is Monday. It’s autumn, it’s wet and it’s Monday. 

Mondays in our household are usually a relaxed affair. In general, the small one spends the weekends napping on the go, and so I like to let him have a decent sleep, if he’ll take one; start the week off right.

When it’s sunny, we usually play in the garden and then meander to toddler group in the afternoon, stopping at the park on the way there or back. We may visit the shop, or go to the library. That’s basically enough fun for one day.

No one wants to be outside in the cold

After a crap night of feeling decidedly unwell, I was woken at half five by my husband getting up for work, as he always does. He has never yet managed to do this without waking me. Such is life. At least I have the luxury of going back to bed, which I did, falling back to sleep about half an hour later. Almost immediately I was re-awoken by the combined shrieking of my children, demanding to be taken downstairs.

The big one usually wakes up in a fairly good mood; if she doesn’t, you know the day is going to go down horribly.

Upon requiring some bathroom time (I don’t want to talk about it), I went about my business with two children hammering and crying through a locked door. What a MONSTER I am. If that wasn’t bad enough, I didn’t even have my phone.

Dazed and still half asleep, I decided to give in to the big one’s demands to have breakfast in the front room; the conservatory was quite chilly and really I just wanted to lie on the sofa and let CBeebies do the parenting for a little bit while I came around.

Now, I am no fool.

The rules on eating in the front room are; the cereal stays dry and the accompanying milk is in ‘non-spill’ cups, but dear god they still manage to make a bloody mess and for some reason the greedy dog isn’t fussed about floor Cheerios; useless bloody thing. So yea, we were left with this scene:

After breakfast, and a bit of dancing to Strictly, the small one was seriously flagging (he has not yet learned the art of going back to sleep if he’s still tired when he wakes up…) so I sat with him for almost 45 damn minutes until, finally, off he drifted. He is entirely incapable of going to sleep without someone right there which is really annoying and bloody inconvenient as predictably, the big one spent this time depositing around two hundred pieces of plastic food around every room downstairs setting up various picnics for her dollies.

To be honest, I just let her crack on with it. 

Facebook isn’t going to check itself you know. I also did very exciting SAHM things like put on a delightful slow cooker dinner (another autumnal favourite), emptied the dishwasher, put the washing on and hoovered.

The small one woke up just in time for lunch, at which point the big one had already eaten an apple, some cheese and half a packet of Wotsits and had been shouting lunch at me for 20 minutes. They ate their lovely warm Philadelphia and ham pitta breads and then the pair of them helped themselves to my sad, low calorie mushroom soup, like they do EVERY DAY. It’s like they don’t even care that it’s horrible and I wish I could have the cheese instead*.

We did make it to toddler group, but the park was off, due to the coldness and the wetness. 

I did briefly consider diverting to somewhere else on the way home; I’d driven there for that exact reason, but the big one screaming HOME! HOME! I NEED A POO! was enough to persuade me. Home we went.

Now we are doing really well with the potty training malarkey but we still have our moments, and this was one of them. Without delving too heavily into the circumstances, I found myself scraping and scrubbing a poo off of the carpet.

Meanwhile, the kids got everything out of the kitchen cupboards.

To summarise the rest of the evening:

  • The lovely slow cooked dinner was roundly rejected in favour of bread.
  • Bath time was, as ever, a scream fest. 
  • It took almost an hour of sitting and humming Somewhere Over the Rainbow to get the small one to sleep, eating up my entire phone battery and sanity.
  • It’s Monday, so there’s no wine. 

He woke up another three times between his bedtime and mine and had to be soothed back to sleep to avoid a meltdown and waking up the big one. I’m tentatively blaming teeth but it’s possible he might just be doing it on purpose.

I’m now doing that stupid mum thing whereby rather than getting an early night you stay up late in an attempt to get some ‘me time’ (or alternatively, write an uncharacteristically ranty piece on your award-nominated blog) in absolute denial that tonight is going to be a complete shitter and you’ll be up a hundred times and be even more tired tomorrow than you were today.

Wish me luck.

(It was a shitter).

 

29 Comments

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