There are days when the best part of the day is waking up.
Today is one such day.
So far.
It started off as a lovely, sunny Sunday morning.
Child let me sleep in until 8.15am, in reality that was actually only 7.15am, as I'd forgotten to put the clocks back.
We had lovely snuggles, she had breakfast and then I went back to bed with my coffee and Wednesday's paper, while Child did some drawing with the telly on.
Managed to get a quick call into my auntie and my sister and then that's when the 'nice' part of the day ended.
Admittedly I did have 1 1/2 hours of quality.
But Child has been rubbing her left eye and it's very sore looking. She tries to not rub it with her hand, but then uses a dry tissue or t-shirt sleeve, sort of defeats the purpose of 'not' rubbing it.
I needed to put eye drops in it.
Would she let me?
No.
I kept trying and kept missing.
And she kept giggling.
Was this a game?
No.
Did she want her eye to feel better?
Yes.
Ok, then lie still.
She wriggled more, as I got more frustrated and then became 'shouty' mummy.
Horrible shouty mummy!
It all escalated, I couldn't reign myself in.
I know I'm tired from college, from work, from dancing, from doing too much, from not having a proper break.
I felt like I was in a downward spiral.
Until I stopped and said, enough.
I was going let her make her own choice, while I had a few minutes in my room.
She hates it when I close my door and sees it as rejection, not as me having my own space.
Her tears started and so did mine.
Horrid.
Finally, she lies down, stops moving, stops pushing my hand away and I get one good drop in the afflicted eye.
What a bloody nightmare.
I feel crappy and have a headache creeping in.
Suddenly my phone chirps with a message, a friend will be in the playground with her kids and would we like to meet them there.
Oh hell yes!
Child perks up and as if by magic, everything is all fine and forgotten.
Teeth are quickly cleaned and off we go.
Unfortunately she wants her scooter, to which the answer is no.
So then another round of stamping feet and huffing ensue.
This slowly disappears as we get nearer to the playground.
Once inside she runs off to join her friends and I sit down next to my friend.
Collapsing on her shoulder, tears come again and I ask her if she'll have Child for the afternoon.
Bless her, she says yes.
I'm given time for a reprieve and to retrieve my torn emotions.
Once home, I go into Izzy Stephens mode and start my short-term therapy.
Baking.
And here I am, about to finish the newspaper on my bed with a cup of coffee.
Isn't that where I started the day?
Today is one such day.
So far.
It started off as a lovely, sunny Sunday morning.
Child let me sleep in until 8.15am, in reality that was actually only 7.15am, as I'd forgotten to put the clocks back.
We had lovely snuggles, she had breakfast and then I went back to bed with my coffee and Wednesday's paper, while Child did some drawing with the telly on.
Managed to get a quick call into my auntie and my sister and then that's when the 'nice' part of the day ended.
Admittedly I did have 1 1/2 hours of quality.
But Child has been rubbing her left eye and it's very sore looking. She tries to not rub it with her hand, but then uses a dry tissue or t-shirt sleeve, sort of defeats the purpose of 'not' rubbing it.
I needed to put eye drops in it.
Would she let me?
No.
I kept trying and kept missing.
And she kept giggling.
Was this a game?
No.
Did she want her eye to feel better?
Yes.
Ok, then lie still.
She wriggled more, as I got more frustrated and then became 'shouty' mummy.
Horrible shouty mummy!
It all escalated, I couldn't reign myself in.
I know I'm tired from college, from work, from dancing, from doing too much, from not having a proper break.
I felt like I was in a downward spiral.
Until I stopped and said, enough.
I was going let her make her own choice, while I had a few minutes in my room.
She hates it when I close my door and sees it as rejection, not as me having my own space.
Her tears started and so did mine.
Horrid.
Finally, she lies down, stops moving, stops pushing my hand away and I get one good drop in the afflicted eye.
What a bloody nightmare.
I feel crappy and have a headache creeping in.
Suddenly my phone chirps with a message, a friend will be in the playground with her kids and would we like to meet them there.
Oh hell yes!
Child perks up and as if by magic, everything is all fine and forgotten.
Teeth are quickly cleaned and off we go.
Unfortunately she wants her scooter, to which the answer is no.
So then another round of stamping feet and huffing ensue.
This slowly disappears as we get nearer to the playground.
Once inside she runs off to join her friends and I sit down next to my friend.
Collapsing on her shoulder, tears come again and I ask her if she'll have Child for the afternoon.
Bless her, she says yes.
I'm given time for a reprieve and to retrieve my torn emotions.
Once home, I go into Izzy Stephens mode and start my short-term therapy.
Baking.
And here I am, about to finish the newspaper on my bed with a cup of coffee.
Isn't that where I started the day?
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