When that little red cross flashed up, a hundred images flashed through my mind. Fun in the park, ice cream on the weekends after a lovely Sunday roast and warm snuggles under the blanket while watching a movie. Pure bliss.
Ahhh…all images from a deluded individual who has never looked after a kid in her life. So this got me thinking back to those fun wine induced times pre-kid where I’d love the idea of having sprogs but had no idea what to do with a real one.
- Family Dinner Times
It was a lovely dream involving conversation and actual eating. Now I find more food stuck in my hair than anything else followed by a large glass of wine and a gallon of ice cream at bedtime.
2. Play Dates
I’d have plenty of time to sit with my endless amount of friends and watch the kids play nicely together. Yep, sure, in between fighting matches for who gets to use the iPad first, the youngest hitting the eldest and a string of bite marks left on my new dining room table.
While the little ones sleep soundlessly, we’d allocate the evening to some hot love making. Have at it numerous times while day dreaming of cake. I’ll raise you all that for having to take the eldest back to bed for the tenth time while repeating “It’s time to go to sleep” through gritted teeth, stepping on that fucking lego piece the youngest threw earlier and finally passing out next to a snoring stranger who slightly resembles the man you married.
Enjoy mass lay-ins as the Hub will get up with the kids on his day off. Maybe get to have a look at my own phone for more than five minutes without having to break up World War Three before 8am. Nope. Move legs quick as the door squeaks open and what sounds like a herd of elephants come trampling into the room. Get kicked in the face multiple times while having “beck-fuss” stuck on repeat in the whiniest voice imaginable.
Chat excitedly around the supermarket, while holding hands trying to find the cake aisle. Cake is involved but normally as a bribing tool to get the little blighters to move from where they are apparently glued to the floor. Don’t talk unless it’s a swear word followed by cussing the Hub, all men in general. Sperm. My own vagina. Feel pleased when it’s all over and we’re at home with the TV firmly on and a large slice of cake in my mouth.