JUST ANOTHER WEEK in the life of a parent. Wake up calls at 6am, mountains of washing, making food, the Peppa Pig soundtrack in your head all day long, making food, cleaning, playing, singing, making food, doing puzzles, answering unusual questions like, ‘Mummy, why are oranges orange?’ Errrr. Oh and a trip to A&E.
We have now entered phase three of the toddler ‘terrible two’s’. Lily has already well-established phase one. The melt downs. Phase two is the pointing at something while moaning and if you can’t work out what she is trying to say in under 10 seconds flat, then cue phase one. Phase three is the most delightful of them all. It’s the whinging and the speaking while crying. For example..
Lily cries.
“What’s wrong Lil?” I ask.
“Muuuuuuuuuuuuuumy” sob sob.
“Yes?” I ask.
“I waaaaaaaant soooooooome cwisps.”
“No you can’t have crisps but you can have a banana?” I ask.
“NOOOOOOOO I DOOOOON’T LIKE BAAAANAAAAS” Sob sob.
“Okay, no bananas then.” I reply.
“Muuuuuumy!” Cries. “I waaaaaaaant a banana!”
That’s nothing, actually that’s the easy bit of phase three. The hard bit is the battle of the toddler logic.
Let me explain.
“Lily! Bath time!” I shout.
“No Mummy, I don’t like baths.” Lily replies.
“Since when? You love baths.” I say surprised.
“No Mummy.” Lily says defiantly.
“Lily, get upstairs now and get your clothes in the laundry please?” I ask sternly, quietly thinking I’ve won the battle this time.
“No mummy, baths are too wet.” States Lily.
And there you have it. A toddler’s logic. How exactly are you supposed to argue with that? Baths are indeed too wet. This is where my parenting skills fail me completely and I end up just lifting Lily, get her undressed while plonking her in the bath, while internally screaming, ‘Get in the freaking bath!!’
Fox ache.
Then there was a moment this week, where I quietly sneaked out to go to the bathroom. I just sat down and the door flies open.
“What are you doing mummy?” Asks Lily.
“Mummy’s busy just now, leave mummy by herself and close the door, I’ll be a minute.” I say.
“Okay mummy, I’ll just wait here and watch.” States Lily.
Fox ache.
Then we have the last step of phase three. I have to say my favourite stage. The mispronunciation of words.
“Uh oh!” Shouts Lily.
“What’s wrong?”
“Orange juice is all over the floor mummy.” Lily says while I walk in to access the damage.
“It was an askadent mummy.”
Adorable.
Then, while playing in the garden..
“Mummy, mummy look!!” Squeals Lily.
“What is it Lil?” I ask.
“It’s a crapafiller mummy.”
Hilarious.
Then dinnertime, when it was all going so well..
“Jamie! Lily! Dinner!” I shout.
Jamie and Lily come racing through to the table.
“Yes! Pizza.” Jamie says happily.
“You alright Lil?” I ask.
“Fuck!” Says Lily.
“WHAT?!” I say surprised.
“Fuck please.” Lily repeats.
I look over at James shocked. Then Jamie says, “Lily wants a fork Mummy.”
“Oh”
Whoops.
So, just while it was all going so well with the kids. Last week, I get a phone call from James to say he’s had an accident, cut his eye and he’s on his way home.
Men! Such drama kings. I look out the Sudocrem and plasters (my solution to fixing everything!) and hide the evidence of amazon boxes that arrived that morning before James arrives home! Ssssh!
45 minutes later and James walks in holding his hand over his eye.
“I need to go to the doctor.” James says.
This is when it hit me that this must be bad if James is asking to go to the doctor!
“Let me see.” I say.
“Oh my God! Right I’ll phone now.” I say trying not to panic. James had been hit in the eye with an aluminium post and when I say hit in the eye, I don’t mean the side of the eye or eyelid (that a bit of Sudocrem and a plaster might fix) I mean, in the eyeball. What a mess!
Long story, short. The doctor sent James straight up to A&E to get looked at. Obviously there is no good time to have to visit the hospital but during these times with Covid, it’s even more daunting. The only saving grace was there was literally no one in accident and emergency, so James got seen fairly quickly. They were able to determine that James had badly cut the front of the eye and that the back of the eyeball may have suffered a trauma but they couldn’t tell. He would need to go to the specialist doctors in another hospital to get accessed. Three days of eye drops, painkillers and rest, James got the call to go up to the hospital to see the specialists. The kids were as good as gold and asking lots of questions about daddy. I explained that daddy had hurt his eye and the doctor was going to fix it and not to be scared when daddy comes back because he’ll have a big plaster on his eye.
A few hours later and James appears back with a big patch and bandages over his eye.
“Aaaaw porr Daddy!” Lily says all concerned. ‘Come here and give me hug.’
Jamie bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Daddy’s a pirate!” Jamie says in hysterics.
A few days later and James is well on the mend and grateful he still has his eye. He was very lucky. The doorbell rings. Fox ache – I was praying it wasn’t another of my amazon orders! And it was, but it was for the kids. Granny had sent over a big bag of Halloween sweets to enjoy over the holidays.
“Yeeeah!” Shouts Lily and Jamie. “Can we have some now?”
“Yip, why not, sit down and take a wee handful.” I said.
Jamie and Lily get wired into the sweets and all goes quiet. James walks in. “Oh sweets, where did these come from?” He asks.
“Mum sent them over for the kids for Halloween.” I reply.
“Look, there’s a spider one, and a ghost one.” James shows the kids.
Jamie then lifts up a bloody, red eyeball sweet and holds it up to his eye. “Look! I’m Daddy!” He says laughing.