Before you have children you can hand the little angels (little shits only appear for parents) back and go out to get rat-arsed knowing the only thing to get you out of bed the next morning is the urge to vomit or eat salty, crappy food. Also, playing with other people’s children was a novelty but shit does that novelty wear off quickly when its 24/7. I’ve always loved children but I take my hat off to those who look after theirs full-time….you crazy folk!
I hope that those who do choose to do it 24/7 are fortunate enough not to think pretending to find another plastic sweetcorn tasty, or doing the sound of a T-rex eating Fireman Sam, really fucking tedious after a while. At times, I feel selfish that someone else is looking after my babies 3 days a week and then I remind myself that it’s essential for my relative sanity. I’m also reassured and guilt-free in the knowledge that nurseries give those special people who do find plastic sweetcorn tasty and love nothing more than getting paint, sand and play-doh stuck in their hair (and pants – just Barry?), a place to enjoy themselves. Thank you to those people – I actually love you.
Although I still fucking hate pretending to eat plastic bloody sweetcorn, I’m already enjoying the time that I’ve got with the rascals more now that it’s not 24/7. Oh and since Barry got into lego – give me building a lego rocket over that role-play shite anyday. The only pretending needed is pretending I’m not a bit pissed off when Barry presses a piece on too hard and my, sorry ‘our’, rocket masterpiece breaks when it is near completion. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to extend the pretending not to be pissed off to when he decided to see if the rocket could fly really fucking fast into the playroom wall…ffs.
Also it’s great leaving the house before breakfast carnage because I get to wear weetabix free dresses again and I’m told that I look like a Princess whenever I wear a dress. Well, who am I to argue with a 2 year old? Rascals always tell it how it is after all.