A stressed out and overworked mother has shared one of the most relatable and hilarious posts about motherhood that I’ve read in a long time. As I sit here next to the heater listing to the cacophony of coughs coming from my kid’s room I wonder just how bloody long these winter colds are going to last and whether it’s too early to crack open some gin.
Gill Sims is a mother and writer of the blog Peter and Jane where she shares stories about life with her kids. In a recent post she has captured the day of a mum to perfection! We all have those days where we wake up and have the best intentions for our day – to make a wholesome breakfast for our kids, pack them their favourite treats for snack time and even sing them a cheery song on the way to school. And then shit happens! And by shit I mean- everything! We all sleep in, forget to do our homework, can’t find our readers and realise there’s no bread for sandwiches. That’s when mums turn from Mary Poppins to Cruela DeVille faster than you can say “Put that friggin iPad away!”
So if this sounds like you, then sit back and enjoy Gill’s recount of a very stressful day that leads her straight to getting “shitfaced on Pink Sunshine wine.”
Tonight, in a change to the scheduled performance, in which Mummy drank green tea and was serene and booze free, instead Mummy is getting shitfaced on Pink Sunshine Wine
This is because today Mummy started the day by taking a child to the doctor, as said child had been complaining for over a week about a sore back due to a handstand induced incident and refusing to believe Mummy’s diagnosis of ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, next time don’t be so stupid.’ and demanded a second opinion, with a proper medical qualification rather than Google.
The doctor agreed with Mummy, which was only a small plus point because Mummy still looked like a neurotic twat anyway for taking her perfectly healthy and uninjured child to the doctor.
Then Mummy spent the rest of the day changing the beds; washing, drying and putting away six loads of laundry; battling against the inexorable desire of the house to turn into a massive shitheap every time Mummy turns her back; going to Waitrose and not killing the children, and then going to Majestic Wine as well because it was that sort of day.
Mummy also cut the grass, both front and back, with the big, scary, petrol mower, and this is not a euphemism for anything, and realised after she had finished cutting the front lawn that she hadn’t seen the Boy Child in a while. He was eventually discovered playing in a neighbour’s garden, having not bothered to tell Mummy he was fucking off, and due to the presence of wholesome witnesses, Mummy gave him a gentle lecture about how Mummy had been very worried because she loves him very much and he must tell Mummy before he ever leaves the garden, instead of howling “Where the fuck have you been, you little bastard, don’t you dare ever do that again!”
In addition, Mummy then took the children to a lovely village barbecue, where they ate many charred sausages and probably got food poisoning, and then made them another dinner when they got home because they were still hungry, and THEN made a second, different dinner for Daddy, as Daddy and the children cannot agree on anything to eat.
Finally, Mummy sorted out the eleventy billion different bins and recycling boxes and lugged them all out to the kerb ready for the bin men, and she was just about to think about sitting down when bastarding Daddy came home and made a facetious remark about had Mummy had a nice, relaxing day sitting in the sunshine? Twat.
So Mummy is actually drinking wine as a safety precaution, because at least if she is pissed and Daddy tries to make any more ‘witty’ remarks, she will probably miss when she tries to stab him, and so Mummy won’t spend the rest of her life in jail, and the children won’t end up in a SadFace article in the Daily Mail.
Photos via Facebook.