Ok so I learnt some life lessons this month that I will be taking into 2019...
Whilst the four year old was on the loo the other day (we have some interesting conversations at poo time) I got asked...’Mummy, why do you have MASSIVE creases on your forehead?’ Cheers kid. So I replied ‘Because Mummy is old.’ To which he replied, ‘Well Daddy doesn’t have them and he’s older than you.’ ARGH. So clearly I want to reply ‘Because Daddy is a lucky b*****d.’ But instead I explain that some people have different skin and creasey bits and non-creasey bits. Fat bits and thin bits etc.
Life lesson one: Sometimes you just get dealt a crap hand in the body stakes. Also save up for regular Botox.
In other news I had a new tattoo, I have only ever sat for four hours before so I thought what’s the worst that can happen sitting for six. Turns out the same experience as when you move from normal labour into established. The difference between being able to actively participate in a crossword to feeling like the world has caved in and you want your Mummy.
I was not expecting that. So for the first time ever I had a love-hate relationship with my tattoo for the first week. Not to mention the fact that my thigh was double the size of the other one. It’s like when your kid winds you up, you love it and you know you have to look after it but you can’t look at it without feeling a bit ragey.
Life lesson two: Pain duration limit is approx four hours before I lose my s**t.
Lastly are anyone else’s kids ‘challenging*’ in the run up to Christmas? I have lost count of the amount of Santa coal/tangerine related threats, withdrawals of books, chocolate and magazine buying.
It’s bleak, why are they so terrible and the thing is you have to give them the pile of stuff stashed in the wardrobe anyway because no one really goes through with a complete diss from Santa. I’m finding the gin helps a lot, that and the Christmas parties. Anyhow, not long before dry January (said no parent of small children ever) I’m renaming it gin-uary.
Life lesson three: kids + Christmas = enhanced gin dependency.
Words by Sara Witham