265
Malone wants to enjoy her child, but not at 6am….
A lot of my friends don’t have children yet. I’m looking forward to them saying “ I don’t know how you coped”. Neither do I! Do people really enjoy parenting? When? The odd shared bath or tickling session-when they giggle uncontrolably, (even though technically you are forcing them- by prodding their armpits). Who truly, day in, day out, loves parenting? Peoples in couples if anyone I imagine. The ones who get to say, “you go settle her” at 4am, for the 3rd waking of the night. It’s always me. It me who gets up the first time, the second time, and third time she wakes.. It’s me who bathes her before bed, its me who makes her dinner, its me who fights her to get nappy and pyjamas on. (Why don’t kids like this? I wish someone would put me to bed…) It’s me who then cleans the kitchen (yup ok not every night!) Often I collapse on my bed, eating pound land Twix bars searching eBay for those tan leather boots with a chisel toe, that will be practical, yet stylish, and will bring more unsion to my life than a Deepak Chopra book. I imagine in these boots myself running for a bus looking effortlessly sexy pushing the buggy through the rain…. Anyway its me who gets up after 3 x 2 hour bouts of crap sleep at 630am and stumbles into her room grabbing her, mumbling “morning” (must tell her its morning so she knows the difference between day and night, that’s what it says in the book, must, must, must be a good parent). Its then me who carries her off, puts on TV and lies face down on the bed wishing she could make me a cup of tea. “two sugars pweeese.” Hey she’s starting staying please and thank you! It sounds like Pweese and Dank-yoo, but she says it! I feel very proud/smug when other kids are grabbing each others toys shouting “mine!!” I feel like I might possibly be a good parent….That is until I remember I start most days with my face in a pillow whilst she shouts at me to make her breakfast. I always hope Teletubbies will distract her from hunger for a little while, just whilst I lie down just that bit longer…I’m trying to wake up and unite limbs with brain, so that I don’t electrocute myself making her toast. I’m so asleep I might put the DVD in the toaster, the rye bread in the DVD… There’s no waking up slowly with a toddler, its go go go from the minute they wake. She’s bangs the cot as my wake up call ( and probably looks cute if I open my eyes enough to focus) I pick her up and we walk into my living room/bedroom and she’s rather embarrassingly grabbing the remote control as soon as we enter. Having a toddler is abit like having your alarm clock on snooze but you can’t turn it off till you go get them, and even then it keeps coming on every few minutes all morning, er In fact all day….. I finally open my eyes and see she does look bloody cute. She politely offers me abit of toast, I feel like a good parent, enjoying her I say “dank yoo”.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Monday, March 03, 2008
264
I make her organic prawns (hey they were half price…) and she eats one of them…. I make her oatabix, she throws it on the floor. I clean it up. I eat a packet of mini eggs sneakily whilst she isn’t looking. I (n case she wants any) after all she’s a toddler…sugar and toddlers don’t mix do they… I give her an apple. Sh e rolls it under a chest of drawers. I try to poke it back out with a ruler…. I grate cheese into a bowl- she dangles bits into my mouth trying to feed me. I refuse to eat any, as I’m lactose intolerant, (unless there’s cake or biscuits on offer of course). This upsets her and she tries jamming the spoon up my nose and in my eye. A spoon of peanut butter is dunked into my purse. I sigh and give up trying to get any food inside her. Why won’t the child eat! She picks at food like an anorexic pigeon then wakes in the night yelping for bottles of milk. In the morning she eats hardly anything. She always wants to eat when we are out and refuses the healthy sandwiches I have made preferring to fill up on fruit or flapjacks. Anything sweet. I’m pleases she’s eating carbohydrate so encourage her to eat the oats even though its full of sugar. Is this why sugar was imported- to make toddlers eat their blummin oats? I find myself today sprinkling molasses on her oatabix’s, (it contains iron and more calcium in tablespoon than a glass of milk) its so sweet she looks like she turns her face nose up and empties the bowl onto the tray, pushing it around mindlessly singing. How cute- her grandparents would think. How f*cking annoying her mother thinks. I’ve cooked/toasted/grilled her so many foods and made myself none. I’m staving. I look at the half chewed discarded grub strewn around; none of it looks edible anymore.
I make myself toast and sit quietly hoping she will be engrossed in Mr Tumble for long enough not to notice me wolfing down ‘0ff we go to hospital’ grade A allergy food. (She has a wheat allergy). She typically toddles over squawking “eek eeek” at me like a dolphin surrounding a lost sardine fisherman about to be eaten by a shark. EEEk eeeeEEE. I hate this noise. I don’t want to understand this language she speaks, yet I do, I’m fluent. It means “Hey lady hand over whatever is in your hand NOW and I mean NOW!” I stuff the remainder of toast in my gob and remember what the doctor said about ensuring I “ate in a relaxed manner to aid digestion”. Not giving her this prize to which mother holds, ends up with my toddler’s face turning to thunder… She goes red and sits down sobbing as if I am the biggest cow on earth. This is not helping my digestion. Stress levels are high. I throw a dummy onto the bed like a bone to a dog and she runs after it panting, and returns laughing and smiling pointing at a monkey on TV. “Munnnkweeeee” Her stress totally forgotten. Meanwhile my toast is stuck in my oesophagus and I need a drink. Ahh another lovely family mealtime.
I make her organic prawns (hey they were half price…) and she eats one of them…. I make her oatabix, she throws it on the floor. I clean it up. I eat a packet of mini eggs sneakily whilst she isn’t looking. I (n case she wants any) after all she’s a toddler…sugar and toddlers don’t mix do they… I give her an apple. Sh e rolls it under a chest of drawers. I try to poke it back out with a ruler…. I grate cheese into a bowl- she dangles bits into my mouth trying to feed me. I refuse to eat any, as I’m lactose intolerant, (unless there’s cake or biscuits on offer of course). This upsets her and she tries jamming the spoon up my nose and in my eye. A spoon of peanut butter is dunked into my purse. I sigh and give up trying to get any food inside her. Why won’t the child eat! She picks at food like an anorexic pigeon then wakes in the night yelping for bottles of milk. In the morning she eats hardly anything. She always wants to eat when we are out and refuses the healthy sandwiches I have made preferring to fill up on fruit or flapjacks. Anything sweet. I’m pleases she’s eating carbohydrate so encourage her to eat the oats even though its full of sugar. Is this why sugar was imported- to make toddlers eat their blummin oats? I find myself today sprinkling molasses on her oatabix’s, (it contains iron and more calcium in tablespoon than a glass of milk) its so sweet she looks like she turns her face nose up and empties the bowl onto the tray, pushing it around mindlessly singing. How cute- her grandparents would think. How f*cking annoying her mother thinks. I’ve cooked/toasted/grilled her so many foods and made myself none. I’m staving. I look at the half chewed discarded grub strewn around; none of it looks edible anymore.
I make myself toast and sit quietly hoping she will be engrossed in Mr Tumble for long enough not to notice me wolfing down ‘0ff we go to hospital’ grade A allergy food. (She has a wheat allergy). She typically toddles over squawking “eek eeek” at me like a dolphin surrounding a lost sardine fisherman about to be eaten by a shark. EEEk eeeeEEE. I hate this noise. I don’t want to understand this language she speaks, yet I do, I’m fluent. It means “Hey lady hand over whatever is in your hand NOW and I mean NOW!” I stuff the remainder of toast in my gob and remember what the doctor said about ensuring I “ate in a relaxed manner to aid digestion”. Not giving her this prize to which mother holds, ends up with my toddler’s face turning to thunder… She goes red and sits down sobbing as if I am the biggest cow on earth. This is not helping my digestion. Stress levels are high. I throw a dummy onto the bed like a bone to a dog and she runs after it panting, and returns laughing and smiling pointing at a monkey on TV. “Munnnkweeeee” Her stress totally forgotten. Meanwhile my toast is stuck in my oesophagus and I need a drink. Ahh another lovely family mealtime.
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