Just a quick impromptu post today aside from any planned posts I have coming up, as I thought I should share a snippet of our morning with you. It was an eventful one, and not in an arts & crafts/baking/pinteresty way; in more of a ‘what the hell just happened?’ and ‘is this my life now?’ kind of way.

Both the kids currently have stinking colds; Dexter of course passed it on to Nancy which is clearly going to be a running theme for the rest of their lives now, or at least until they’re 18. We usually bath them on a night as part of their bedtime routine, but I decided to bath them this morning as they have been waking up all snotty and covered in goo. Dex and I got in the bath together and we had Nancy on the bath mat beside us.

The logistics of this scenario were somewhat problematic, however I won’t bore you with the details; just know that it involved me getting in and out of the bath quite a few times, and moving around and restraining kids to enable me to do various otherwise ‘everyday’ things. What ensued however, is where the real crazy lies.

Having left Dex in his bathroom seat/jail, and taken Nancy upstairs to our bedroom, I then brought him up with us too, all wrapped up in his towel. My hand happened to be strategically placed under his bum, and after feeling a suspicious airy ‘poof’ from beneath the towel, I panicked, asking him repeatedly if he’d pooed whilst bracing myself for what I may now find within the depths of that towel. No poo…phew.

So we’re both in towels and I put him down so that I can get a pair of knickers on before getting him into his nappy (just in case the neighbours are after an eye full), and as you can imagine this was clearly a rookie error. Before I got to the knicker drawer I heard what sounded like rain rhythmically hitting the window or something; however what I actually heard was my son pissing in the corner of the bloody room! Of course he preceded to splash in said piss, gleefully and nonchalantly stamping his feet. He probably imagined he was jumping up and down in muddy puddles like that little bitch Peppa is always doing; not stood there in the buff with his talliwacker out, peeing on the original floorboards we’ve recently spent our weekends restoring. WTF?!

No time to get any underwear on, I leapt over to grab him, towel no longer in tow, and naked wrestled him to the ground. We must have looked like a pile of raw meat on a butcher’s slab, or a couple of slippery fish writhing around on land; arms and legs and bits flying everywhere whilst I tried to mop the wee from his freshly bathed body and get a god damn nappy on his bum quick. The whole sorry incident was pretty surreal, especially the moment where I found myself asking my toddler if he knew where my knickers were.

By the time it turned 9am we were all sat on the bed, fully dressed, and watching The Bear Hunt with Nancy on the boob, as if nothing had ever happened. I sat there thinking to myself that what had just taken place was a prime example of how this parenting journey is made up of moments of absolute chaos followed by moments of complete calm, and that although stressful, it’s times like these that I’ll be telling the Grandkids about in years to come. “…and then Daddy pissed on Grandma’s bedroom floor, the little shit”. Ahhh, I can just picture it now.

A.x

*Photo Credit: Anete Lusina Photography