A Day in the Life: Thurs 8th November

People often ask me: why are you so angry all the time? Why can't you complete a sentence without a minimum of 15 swear words? Did you mean for your hair to look like that? Why are you so obsessed with alcohol and breasts? Do you think mocking your own children on the internet is good parenting? I think that the answer to these questions and quite probably many more can be seen below.

My First Husband is away at a conference. It is only overnight and like many, many of the married females I know, I was damn excited at the prospect. Last night was fine, the Nazgul was ticked off that a minion had left without her permission but soon enough she was in bed and I was kicking back with a glass of sparkling and watching a show about stupid British dog owners. This morning saw in a darker day for Crap Headquarters. 

6am: Got my usual wake-up call of "I waaaannnnntttt my MUUUUUUUUUMMMMAAAA" on repeat. I really must applaud the Nazgul on being able to shout but keep the whinging tone in tact while at the same time making a mockery of the "gentle alarm" I so diligently set on my phone each night. As soon as she sees me the whine changes to "I want you carry me" which considering I have a chronic joint condition and she is built like the cross between a garden gnome and a front row forward, poses quite a few technical problems. After I say no, she informs me she is an elephant and rolls around her bed laughing her insane little arse off (must remember to take this child to the zoo at some point because that impression needs a shit load of work). 

6.45am: After 12 of her personalities taking turns to be in control (Postman Pat and assorted minor roles, the entire cast of Yo Gabba Gabba, Bob the Builder, and some random cats) The Nazgul announces her breakfast is over. Seeing her take a deep breath, the kind she does before a whinge so intense that a catholic would consider it speaking in tongues, I head it off by asking her to wake Rainman up. She whines in a way that has me making moon eyes at the booze cupboard "Is not Rainman. Is Brobee", "Okay, then sweetheart can you get Brobee up” which causes her to launch into a complete mental fit crying "No I is Brobee". I have kind of blacked out what happened next and replaced it with scene from 90s sitcom Father Ted but the end result was she woke up Rainman by climbing into bed with him and singing sweetly to him. I was misty eyed as walked past and they were cuddling while playing with a torch...fool that I was. 

7am: The Nazgul adds foot stomping while crying and shouting that she wasn't finished breakfast and she was still eating those two sodden spoonful’s of porridge I had cleared away. After calming her down and furnishing her with more porridge. I watch my two shaved chimps happily chatting away and decide it is safe for me to go to the toilet in the next room rather than shit my own pants.

7.03am: Both children (and I use this term in its loosest possible sense) are screaming and crying. I don't mean shouting, I mean screaming like when the TV gets turned off in the rec room of a secure unit screaming.  I call out to Rainman to tell me what happened. I keep calling out more and more desperately for him to come here so was quite shocked to hear him running off to the other end of the house crying. I keep calling out for him to come here until I am shrieking. Eventually he turns up sobbing and says "Nazgul threw a spoon at me and just shouts at me”.  By this point The Nazgul is contributing to the symphony of horror by shrieking "I no love mummy and Rainman. Me love my daddy. DAAADDDY. Me no love mummy. Me no love Rainman" over and over.  Somehow I manage to calmly say “You go to your room for a few minutes and calm down, mate” Of course Rainman showed his acting skills by walking off as if he was going to his room but actually just stepped out of my line of vision and started provoking the Nazgul until she was in a berserker frenzy.


7.05am: Come out of the bathroom to assess the damage and using my Dexter-like skills to analyse the porridge splatter and spoon position quickly ascertain that Rainman was being a crap-pony once again. The most the Nazgul could have been guilty of was pushing her spoon away. Eventually exorcize the Nazgul enough to determine that despite her spoon being perfectly fine while I was in her eyesight as soon as I am no longer visible the only spoon she can eat from is the one Rainman is eating with. After every other spoon in the house had been rejected as “I no love that one” I brokered a deal whereby The Nazgul would take possession of the spoon equivalent of the Gaza Strip as soon as Rainman was done. 

7.15am: Tell Rainman to hurry up with the spoon. He puts the spoon down and stares at his sister. He has apparently forgotten the above in its entirety. 

7.25am: Trying to get The Nazgul ready for the walk to drop Rainman off at school and her at Day care but am constantly interrupted by Rainman, who despite being unable to get both shoes on in under 20 mins feels that my parenting of The Nazgul needs correction (the entire time The Nazgul has whined that it doesn’t want to go to day-care and has developed an alternate reality in which I am taking her to the park). While I am telling Rainman that he needs to put his other shoe on and shut up, The Nazgul disappears and begins shouting “I no love mummy. I no like my school. I not going my school. I going back to bed” and sure enough she is laying in her bed shouting out bitter recriminations. 

8am: Despite being told at 5 min intervals all morning we were leaving at 8am on the dot (to drop both children off I have to walk for 2 hours) As I am grabbing my keys Rainman walks past me, headed for the toilet with a magazine tucked under his arm. 

For the first half of the walk to school Rainman refused to talk to me and just walked one step behind me, glaring and muttering under his breath. This didn’t bother me so much as The Nazgul was still relentlessly protesting that she was not going to day-care and I was to take her home. Halfway through the trip his innate desire to drive me insane by monologuing kicked in. However, after he found the need to stand in the middle of a driveway of a construction site, adjusting some astro-turf they had put down and ignoring all my pleas to get off the driveway until I was shrieking like a mental woman so insanely that people in cars were staring, he returned to the sullen muttering about my intolerant ways. 

The Nazgul did not let up on the whining; whinging and general insanity about not going to day-care for the entire walk there. After dropping her off, I walked straight into a near-by McDonalds and shoved a bacon and egg muffin into my mouth like a proper mental. Which might not seem particularly remarkable or concerning to those of you who don’t know one simple fact about me – I wouldn’t have eaten McDonalds in a good decade. Generally my reaction to it is the same as most people would have to being asked to eat a live frog. 

And dear readers, this is why I am angry, swear, have hair in worse condition than a witch’s pubes, drink, and look down other ladies shirts at the supermarket.