Too Many Children
« Previous Entries Next Entries »Mind matters
Thursday, May 18th, 2006The daily battles start early: Eldest Son, who is four, puts up the best fight he can muster to avoid pre-school each morning. When he gets home he is tired and badly behaved. His teacher told me today that he is acting immaturely at school and is not really ready to start big school in September. His lack of attention at home may apparently be a factor in this.
Second Son who is nearly three has not quite started pre-school. He has also given up his daytime nap. Most of his friends are his brother’s friends; they are at pre-school and so we don’t have many playdates during the school term. When we drive out of the pre-school driveway he asks longingly to go to the grocery store, he finds the mornings at home that dull, despite my best efforts to entertain him between tending to the cranky baby and doing the chores.
Youngest Son, at four months, is not quite into any routine. Of any sort.
The mother’s help is no more.
The days are long and tiring, punctuated only by the ten minute catnaps that Youngest Son takes which allow me time to pee, prepare supper and, if I’m lucky, throw in some laundry.
The casualities of these difficult domestic circumstances are my sanity and my blogging. And oddly, I miss the blogging more.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
8 Comments »
Posted in Too Many Children
A life in the day
Wednesday, May 3rd, 20067.00 Get up. Shower while baby gnaws hungrily at hand. Dry hair; baby drifts off into noise-induced slumber. Switch off drier; baby screams with indignant hunger.
7.10 The older two start shouting: “Mummy I got pooey nappy.” “Mummy, is it time to get up yet? CAN I SAY HELLO TO THE BABY? IS HE AWAKE?” Well, if he wasn’t he would be now.
7.15 Downstairs to the playroom where I feed the baby. Matthew gets up and comes down to help get the children dressed.
7.20-7.30 Wind the baby. He vomits feed then two seconds later burps properly. Get paper towel to clear up sick then find dogs have done it in the interim. Disinfect vomit/saliva covered floor. Thank God for hardwood floors. Make mental note not to let the dogs lick any of the children ever again.
7.35 Change three nappies.
7.41 The two youngest poop. Change two nappies.
7.45 Get breakfast on the go - porridge for one, toast for the other - with baby propped in one arm. Matthew makes me a cappuccino then heads off to a meeting in London. Eat breakfast with baby feeding. Try not to slop too much milky cereal in his ear.
8.00 Tell children to hurry up. Second Son starts smearing porridge over table. Remind him that porridge will go in bin if he doesn’t eat it. More smearing. Give second warning. Final smearing with bad smile on face. Throw porridge in bin. Second Son stares wistfully at smeared porridge on table then starts to eat it.
8.15 Brush all sets of teeth and heads of hair. Get baby undressed and cover him with olive oil to combat all-over-body eczema. Baby giggles uncontrollably. He’s so cute I could eat him. And as he’s covered in olive oil, perhaps literally. Dress him and feed him and burp him some more. Then some more. Then some more. Put washing on. Start to unload dishwasher. Get lunch bread and meat for supper out of freezer.
9.00 School run aka military operation number 1 of the day. Eldest Son brings me baby’s car seat, Second Son brings baby blanket, each get respective coats and shoes on, get their toy and stand silently by back door. Today I don’t shout once. They know whatever else they do during the day they will not muck with me at this point in the day. It’s not worth it.
9.15 Deposit Eldest Son at school.
9.25 Drive to Waitrose. Spend several minutes choosing presents for my friend Cally who had her baby yesterday, presents for the older girls, present for the baby, present for the mummy. Choose flowers for our neighbour whose husband died yesterday. Pick up some bits for supper. Throw a few other things in. Am astounded when the checkout total comes to £132. I can’t have more than 12 or 13 things in the trolley.
Run over pheasant on the way home. Well, actually run over pheasant that has rebounded off the car coming in the opposite direction. Technically I didn’t kill it so consider picking it up for supper* but can’t be bothered to go back. Or pluck the damn thing.
* The pheasant was killed by the other car. I DID NOT consider picking up a half-alive pheasant and bringing it home for supper.
10.30 Get home, pour coffee. Slightly dozing baby starts to wake. Check messages. Estate agent has phoned, someone wants to view the house on Saturday. Phone him back. Realise I forgot to get flowers for the house while at Waitrose. Remember that buyers are not fooled by ‘staging’ and that flowers don’t disguise the smell of dog either. Think I should start cleaning for the house viewing but saved by baby waking. Feed baby and burp him. Repeat.
10.45 Make some changes to the business website. Remember I haven’t posted to blog in a week. Check blog. Hmmmm….
11.15 Play with Second Son who’s bored. Feed baby, who’s hungry again.
11.45 Write letter of condolence to neighbour.
12.00 School run. Talk to Harry’s teacher about the speech therapy he had today. She wants to go back to the method we were using before the current one which didn’t work either. I’m less than thrilled.
12.30 Get home, make sandwiches with babe in one arm. Feed boys, feed baby. Explain that T., our neighbour, died. Explain the whole concept of the soul leaving the body and going up to heaven to be with God. Lots of questions followed by silence. Then Eldest Son burps and the whole place descends into giggling chaos.
1.00 Second Son goes to bed: ‘I go bed now Mummy, I tired.’ Practice speech with Eldest Son. Youngest Son so tired now he will not sleep and can only cry. Abandon speech therapy. Check messages. My boss called asking how much longer before he can have the track I am working on. Am relieved I was out when he called. Wrap presents.
2.00 Get Second Son up and head over to Cally’s to meet the new baby. Feel broody. Laugh over previously made arrangement while pregnant to swap Youngest Son with Youngest Daughter if we didn’t have a daughter and son respectively. Think about swapping Youngest Son with Youngest Daughter (not really folks!). Tell Cally that Matthew agreed last night to having a daughter but had to remind him the next one might also be a son. Agreed we would definitely stop after four. Unless maybe the next one was another boy I said under my breath….
4.00 Get home. Boys start fighting and screaming. Baby has slept a total of about 22 minutes today and will not stop crying unless I am holding him. Prepare baby curry for boys supper. Consider pancakes for pudding but decide too much work with babe in arms and opt for strawberries instead. Eat an apple. Baby looks desperately at it. Let him lick it as he’s unofficially more than 4 months old now. He looks at me like I am the best thing ever.
4.15 Baby falls asleep in arms. Put him in cot.
4.16 Baby wakes up. He’s really cross that I duped him.
4.20 Baby feeds but still cross that I duped him and pounds my boobies with his fist. Eldest Son asks to go to park. Tell him he can play in garden instead. He says he can’t because a fox will eat him. Long (ongoing for the last week) discussion about why foxes won’t hurt him.
5.00 Supper time. Field questions about God, dying, Youngest Son dying, Mummy dying, dogs dying (strangely not Matthew dying), questions about being eaten by foxes which morphs into questions about crocodiles, elephants and dinosaurs eating us.
5.30 ‘Lovely supper Mummy’ and off they go to play on their ride-on toys. Harry shouts ‘I’m just going up to see God Mummy’ Tell him that R., our neighbour, is sad that T. died and that we shouldn’t joke about God. ‘I’m just going to see a pretend God Mummy,’ he replied piously. Clear up the unholy mess that is the kitchen and sitting room.
6.00 Bath time. Boys pour water over their willies and pretend to pee in the jugs. Harry tells me he is pooing and produces a sponge from between his legs as evidence. I wonder where my sweet boys have gone. Answer more questions about foxes eating us. Feed baby while perched on the loo and consider how my standards have slipped since the first baby. Matthew calls to say goodnight to the boys. The baby poos everywhere. It leaks all over the chair he is lying in. Curse and get boys out of bath to run new bath to put baby in. Baby poos in bath. Curse and run third bath of the evening.
6.30 Lay baby in cot while I put away laundry. Dig out a black tie outfit for a party on Saturday. Wonder if I have anything that fits. Consider effort of packing up four boys and self for the weekend away. Wonder how I will get house clean and tidy for potential buyer before leaving for the weekend away. Baby gets cross and wants more feeding. Consider whether can put off introducing baby rice until after weekend away (less to pack).
6.45 Peering out the boys’ window I can see the undertakers at the neighbour’s house. Eldest Son asks ‘is T’s face in the van?’ I explain they take the body away not just the face. ‘No, Mummy, if I won’t see him again, it’s because they’ve taken his face,’ he replies. ‘Did a fox eat him?’ he asks. I change the subject.
7.00 Boys in bed. ‘Has your tummy gone down now?’ Harry asks. ‘When are we going to have a baby sister?’ he sighs. Go downstairs and consider pouring a glass of wine. Remember that breastfeeding and decide against it. Wonder whether if I had a glass of wine it would help the baby sleep. Have a glass of water.
7.05 Matthew calls, he won’t be back until late. I’m starving. Eat four jaffa cakes. Remember that they’re only 1g of fat and have two more. Wish I had more will power. Dig out Spanx pants to wear to black tie do on Saturday. So fat that I can hardly get into the pants that will make me less fat.
7.30 Cover baby in olive oil. He falls asleep while I rub it into his sore, cracked skin. Put him on sofa next to me and make phone calls. Eldest Son wakes. He had a nightmare about a fox eating him. Consider how sick of foxes I am now.
7.40 Put on more washing so clothes clean for weekend away. Iron Matthew’s black tie shirt. Call a local village girl about helping me with the children after school. She seems really keen. I don’t tell her that my children whine, laugh excessively over bodily functions and fight all the time. Call a friend to make playdate for tomorrow. She says her friend’s son has chickenpox and they are trying to arrange a chickenpox playdate. I ask her to include us. Then wonder if I can cope with three children with chickenpox if they do catch it.
9.00 Matthew gets back and asks about my day. I tell him he can read all about it in a few minutes on my blog. Tell him anyway because I am so desperate for adult conversation, even if it is about the children.
9.30 Read in village newspaper that friend buried the ashes of her entire family last week. Go upstairs and kiss all my boys, grateful for every moment I have with them.
10.00 Post to blog. Consider how much more I could have got done this evening if I hadn’t spent time typing post. Start tidying up and clearing up supper stuff.
10.30 Feed baby.
11.00 Go to bed exhausted. Wonder if I’ll dream about being eaten by a fox.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
4 Comments »
Posted in Too Many Children
I don’t really believe in signs but I have to believe this one for my own sanity
Tuesday, April 25th, 2006So having not quite got around to firing the nanny (I had only actually fired her in my mind)I phoned her yesterday and explained that I wouldn’t need her after today as our arrangements had changed but that I would be very happy if she would like to work one more afternoon to help me out and so that the boys could see her to say goodbye. I also made it clear that although I would love her to come today it wouldn’t put me out at all if she didn’t come, thereby giving her every opportunity to say she didn’t want to come. But she really sounded keen to come and so I said I would see her today as usual. So this morning she phones and says she can come but only until 5.30 as she had forgotten that she had a previous babysitting arrangement that started at 6.00 (she is supposed to be here until 6.30).
So I told her to feck off.
Although being a bit classier than that I actually said the busiest time was 5.30-6.30 which is supper time and bath time and so thank you for all your help over the last few months and goodbye, we wish you well and hope to see you around, blah, blah, blah.
Even my husband and mother, who thought I had been a bit quick to get rid of her last week, agreed that she was totally unreliable and therefore completely useless.
So I sat with my head in my hands over my mid-morning coffee wondering how the hell I am going to cope. But today, having not been able to get anything done for weeks beyond the basic minimum of throwing food on the table and getting the school run accomplished, I also sorted out the new broadband provider, walked the dog, fed all those that needed to be fed, bathed not only the baby but all three children and sang said three children to sleep by 7.10pm. It must be a sign.
But you just know that, after writing that, tomorrow is going to be SO horrendous.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
4 Comments »
Posted in Too Many Children
I just want Mary Poppins
Tuesday, April 18th, 2006I fired the nanny. She kept saying she couldn’t come, often with only a couple of hours notice. Today she called at 11.30 saying she couldn’t come (at 2.30). But, she said, she could come tomorrow instead. No, I said, that’s no good because I ask you to come on Tuesdays because I need someone to look after the children on Tuesdays. But you don’t work, she said as if that gives her carte blanche to come whenever she feels like it. I do work, I said (although sometimes I sleep because, hello, I have a newborn, I’m exhausted and I’m paying you to look after my children and what I do during that time is not really of ANY concern to you) but that’s not really the point, I want you to come on Tuesdays because that’s when I need you and that’s what we agreed.
So, after some deliberation, I fired her.
Maybe she found me impossible to work for. She wasn’t doing what we agreed which was to be a mother’s help (she is more in the babysitter league than the qualified nanny league), empty the dishwasher if it needed doing, pick up the baby if he was crying and I was busy with one of the other children, entertain the older two, cook them supper and bath them (and not all at the same time, for God’s sake, which sometimes I have to do) and generally just be an extra pair of hands. Instead I was preparing supper for her to cook (because she found even basic cooking a stretch - anything more than fish fingers under the grill at any rate), emptying the dishwasher because otherwise she wouldn’t load the dirty dishes from the boys’ supper, thinking of and preparing activities for her to do with the children because after the first few times here she stopped making an effort to take them to the park. I did sometimes get some sleep and she was worth every sullen moment because frankly I would have sold my soul for sleep in those early weeks. But she hasn’t come the last two Tuesdays and when she called again this morning I’d had enough. She came highly recommended, although I really can’t see why, and I was so glad to have her because she is the only experienced part-time nanny/babysitter in this small corner of this county. Not having her leaves me with the inability to get anything done week after week (today I was going to sort out a new broadband provider, walk the dogs and give the baby a bath - hardly life-saving stuff but stuff which is near-impossible to do with three children under five at home) and as the baby got older I entertained visions of putting my feet up with a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper one afternoon a week. It seems not to be. There is no-one else to employ in her place, the downside of living in a very small village in the middle of nowhere. I will cope but it will be that little bit more stressful. The two projects I was hoping to get on with (my mental break from the children) will have to wait. It’s not the end of the world, so why do I feel a bit like it is?
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
8 Comments »
Posted in Too Many Children
The chocolate manufacturers should be at my house today
Monday, April 17th, 2006The day after Easter and today I face the delights of the chocolate poo (the toddlers’ not mine). You know, that sticky, in-one-end-straight-out-the-other poop that is the after-effect of toddlers eating too much chocolate. It’s going to be so much fun.
Subscribe Via Email OR
Subscribe Via RSS
OR
Comments Off
Posted in Too Many Children
« Previous Entries Next Entries »