Sometimes I hate Kyle’s job because he must work nights and weekends. This weekend is even worse because he’s working four nights in a row including both Saturday and Sunday. I feel like a single parent as he sleeps all day and then goes to work at tea time. This weekend has been a particularly shitty one for various reasons.

My Saturday started at 6.15am when Charlie skipped into my room and jumped into bed with a ‘Morning Mummy, do you want to come and play with me?’. I thought ‘Yes Son, I would absolutely love to crow-bar my arse out of bed to play with you and your Lego at this delightful hour’. Instead we cuddled up in bed and watched Paw Patrol. Jorgie started gurgling 15 minutes later and I heard Kyle coming in from work, so I shouted down for him to make her a bottle.

Once Jorgie was fed, I tried to grab another 10 minutes in bed, but she was now also in the bed and star fishing like there was no tomorrow. She somehow managed to stick her finger up my nostril and scratch the inside of my nose with her nails. This resulted in blood, so I gave up on the lie-in and went to stick a tissue up my nose instead.

After the usual morning hurdles of persuading Charlie to brush his teeth and have a wee, I grabbed a pile of washing, my phone, the empty milk bottles and Jorgie in her Moses basket and proceeded to walk down the stairs.  I started to sterilise Jorgie’s bottles and make breakfast and I was proper pleased with myself that I was mastering the morning routine.

I thought I best ring my mum to arrange the time we were meeting today, but I couldn’t find my mobile anywhere. It was then that the horrible realisation hit me that I had put my phone in the washing machine with the big pile of clothes I had brought down. After trying to stop the washing machine with no success, I dramatically cried for 10 minutes whilst the kids stared at me like I had 3 heads and then I woke Kyle up to help.

After a painstaking 45-minute wait, miraculously my phone was okay even though it had taken a good wash in the machine for half an hour. Total baby brain!

An afternoon at the fair followed where I secretly laughed at Charlie shitting himself on all of the rides, but it kept him happy for half an hour so was £15 well spent. After a pedalo ride and a change of clothes after Charlie got drenched in the fountains, we headed home. It was Kyle’s birthday on Sunday, so I decided on a whim to bake him a birthday cake. I bought a Betty Crocker chocolate cake, nothing too adventurous as I don’t have the time or the energy.

This was probably the second worse idea I’ve ever had after letting Charlie make Kyle a birthday card with paint a few days before but that’s another story. As we started to make the cake, Charlie couldn’t contain his excitement. His hands were all over the show, there was cake mix in his hair and eyebrows and all over the worktop. Betty Crocker advised to use 8 tablespoons of vegetable oil, but I didn’t have any in the cupboard so had to use 4 tablespoons of coconut oil and 4 tablespoons of fri-light instead. For reference I start a lot of diets so credit to lean in 15 and slimming world for those ingredients.

Meanwhile, Jorgie was literally screaming like a strangled cat even though she’d just been changed and had a bottle and the dog was having a poo in Charlie’s sandpit in the back garden. I asked myself ‘Could things get any worse?’ Probably.

I quickly shoved the cake in the oven. The mixture was full of coconut oil lumps, so I didn’t have high expectations. I managed to get the kids in bed while the cake was cooking and when I came back down it was ready to ice. I then realised that Betty had also instructed to buy a tub of Betty Crocker’s chocolate fudge icing to decorate the cake. Ooops!!  To improvise I had to break approximately 17 bitesize twirl bars into a bowl to melt and take Charlie’s last packet of milky bar buttons to make the cake look anything near to decent. Sorry Kyle. You have a shit birthday cake.

Sunday wasn’t much better. It rained all day, so we had a little trip round the shops. I bought Charlie a £2.99 Paw Patrol umbrella and I’ve never seen anyone more pleased. He’s had it up and been walking round with it ever since.

Before we came home I decided to treat Charlie to McDonalds and get Kyle some lunch to make up for the crap birthday cake he was about to receive. After getting to McDonalds it was closed for refurbishment, so I had to drive to the nearest one which took about 15 minutes as the traffic was so bad due to rain. Jorgie was due a feed so it was the most painful journey I have experienced in a long time as her screams echoed all over the car.

After arriving and standing at the counter absolutely soaking wet with a screaming baby, I tried to order meals for us to eat in and a meal for Kyle to take away. However, this really seemed to confuse the shit out of the staff, so I waited and waited and waited. I was order number 20 so when order 30 was called out and 10 people had been served in front of me I asked the girl at the counter ‘Excuse me, can you tell me where my order is please? I’ve been waiting patiently for 15 minutes and 10 people who ordered after me have been served’.

She told me she would sort it straight away. I waited for another 10 minutes until I had a complete meltdown to the staff. I heard my voice shaking as I said ‘Excuse me, where is my order? I’ve been waiting for 25 minutes. I think there is some confusion as I want a meal to eat in and a meal to take away for my husband who has been on a night shift driving an ambulance and it’s his birthday today and I’ve made him a shit birthday cake, so I just want to take him home a McDonalds. I’m also wet with two demanding little children, so I would appreciate if you could just give me my order’. I then burst into tears and walked off (I think it must nearing the time of the month). Needless to say, my order turned up immediately after.

We ended the weekend watching Chitty Chitty Bang Bang whilst Charlie repeatedly asked, ‘Can we go there Mummy?’ ‘Sorry but no as it’s too far away and happened in 1968 so isn’t possible’. He responded with ‘You have a car so no problem Mummy’.  We had a piece of the rubbish birthday cake and it didn’t taste too bad and Charlie and Jorgie both fell asleep early which was a bonus.

As he was falling asleep Charlie put his arm round me and said, ‘I’ve got you Mummy and I’m not letting go’ and just like that everything was okay again.

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