
In theory I have had a pretty easy day, up with Luca this morning but not crazy early, even if I didn’t sleep well, it was a lovely morning. Luca was so cute in fact that I agreed we could make the gingerbread house we bought the other day (thinking we just had to assemble it not bake it). Well I am just not as good a cook as I would like to be. Really simple things seem to be harder for me than other people. Anyway we did ok with the gingerbread cut outs, even with Luca helping. When it came to the icing however, even erring on the side of nervous baker caution and adding the water slowly I still ended up with a puddle of sugar water rather than tasty white ‘glue’. So I melted some Christmas chocolates to glue the ‘house’ together. Luckily Luca is 2, he could not care less what we made as long as it was edible. So at 8.30 this morning, 2 hours after starting this ‘fun’ enterprise together we had made a lumpy gingery-chocolaty tent. I think ‘tent’ feels like a fair description. Generous in fact. Maybe ‘lean-to’ is more appropriate.
I tell you this not because I am an amazing mum baking at 7am but because I started the day feeling ok, took a confidence hit by 8am with this ‘lean-to’ disaster and then, THEN, the hormones kicked in. It must be that time of month I am thinking to myself because I suddenly went into rage mode. I am not RAGING with anyone particularly and no one had upset me but I suddenly am having to deal with inner rage.
I get a bit shorter with Luca, I do not take it out on him but NOT getting the rage out means that it builds.
Luca is just starting to learn the alphabet, by which I mean he must have heard the alphabet song because he has started singing it and he likes alphablocks. So we sit on the floor by the fridge and sing the alphabet song while trying to find all the magnetic alphabet letters from under the fridge freezer. They are not all there. Loads are missing. None of these letters have left the house I think so they must be here. Let’s pull the fridge freezer out, find the missing letters and then we can have ‘fun’ spelling Christmas together. By the way, I am not allowed to sing the alphabet song. I am TOLD to sing it but as soon as I start I am told to STOP SINGING. Toddlering is super fun.
The fridge freezer comes out far more easily than I expect. And as soon as I get my eyes on the gap at the back to check I am not about to pull a socket out the wall I see I’m safe and it should be an easy recovery of the ABC.
We only find 3 letters, G, x and j. I vacuum behind there and clean the floor obviously. Having seen the mess I have no option but to do some virtuous ‘I am a good housekeeper’ cleaning.
“What’s that water?” I say
“What water?” Luca replies
I am talking to myself of course but Luca runs over to see ‘what water’.
We have one of those American fridges that provides us with delicious cold water and ice, amazing…and it has a filter…which is now leaking. Jimmy is playing footy all afternoon; I am not sure he’s going to be able to help me fix this. Luca might not be super helpful either – “what is it?” pulling the filter tube out even more…eeek.
The hormones have actually not kicked in yet so I am still calm. It will be fine. I have towels and helpful neighbours and a telephone to call the emergency services if necessary, I am not worried. I text Jimmy to explain why the fridge will be blocking his entry to the kitchen when he gets back to the alphabet then we move on to Connect4.
Before I go on, I have all the skills to deal with PMT. I have tapping (EFT) at my fingertips and can help myself mood adjust when I need to (or rather want to, as we all self sabotage at times, right?!). I have years of counselling skills and logic and common sense and experience to tell me what to do in this situation. Years of months of experience. Yet the rage is coming. It is coming and I am surprised to feel it. I was in a GREAT mood yesterday. Things are pretty great. And busy and stressful and pressured but great….ARGH. The rage is coming. My time of the month app confirms the worst. Urgh.
Harvey (our black lab) wants to go out again. AGAIN??!?!! Really???! Go on then Harvey but you better do something this time…”
Poor dog. He looks at me like I have just told him that the tooth fairy only visits cats. Sorry Harvey. BUT FFS stop asking to go out then turning round and staring at me like I’ve just thrown you out in the snow. And then wanting to come straight back in.
The movie we have playing in the background (Luca has a hacking cough and doesn’t want to go out as planned so we are staying in the warm and watching Angry Birds for the um 18th time? I have almost lost count), has some issue with the sound so it’s stammering at me and DRIVING ME MAD. The RAGE has kicked in. Internally mostly. There are toys EVERYWHERE. The house looks so DULL. I am so DULL. My friend’s house is so stylish and retro and cool and I love it and MINE is so BORING. I have loved our little house since we renovated it 3 years ago but today it is EMBARRASSING. Urgh. I have total appreciation of how crazy and silly I am being. I am angry and unreasonable while maintaining total control and perspective…exhausting.
We are playing a new number puzzle and we are playing cars and we are building a car track we haven’t had out for ages, and asking for more gingerbread and saying no and asking for a bottle and saying not yet and thinking how dark it is getting but not turning the lights on because that seems like quite a lot of work. And counting the minutes until Jimmy comes home, wet and cold from footy in a mud bath of a pitch. And thinking about what a lovely evening I am being treated to for my birthday but having no idea what I will wear that won’t make me look dull and boring and fat and ugly…And wondering when I will have time to find something to wear that won’t make me look dull and boring and fat and ugly.
Do you ever have days like this? When you go from caring cook to completely crazy?!
Argh. I have no idea if I should or will publish this. Oh dear. Harvey wants to go out again…
Thanks for understanding. Will be back on form when this passes.
Anna x