Things That Happen When You’re a Hungover Parent

Things That Happen When You’re a Hungover Parent

We all know it’s a bad idea to drink when you have to be up with the little people the next day. But we still do it. We all become the Hungover Parent. Not me of course. I’ve just heard the rumours…

5.45am Hear a faint rustling of sheets. Lift head. Owwwwww. Check time. Bury face and close eyes hoping everything goes away.

6am Hear rustling and gurgling. Close eyes tighter and pretend to be asleep.

6.05am Sick burp. Mmm jaegermeister.

6.15am Hear Baa Baa Black Sheep over the monitor. Shout into pillow. Faaaaaaaaaaaarck.

6.18am Hear Baby start stretching. Ask Husband “why two” in barely-there-voice. Husband growls.

6.30am Lie straight on edge of bed whilst being hit in the face with comforter. Wish you had gone on milk run.

6.32am Agree that Peppa Pig is a great idea. Search for 60 minute compilation on YouTube and hit play.

6.33am Lie down and close eyes. Smell something gross.

6.34am Change Baby nappy. Gag. Taste prosecco.

6.37am Sigh heavily at wee on the bed. Cover with a towel and lie on it.

6.40am Close eyes. Drift off to sleep to soothing sounds of Peppa.

6.42am Use wet wipe to clean baby sick out of hair. Retch at smell. Taste vodka.

6.43am Dry heave over toilet

6.45am Stare at Husband’s back imagining what it would be like to hurt him. Try to smile at Baby.

6.47am Clean off clogged up mascara. Put in eye drops. Successful on 3rd time.

6.50am Stare at Baby blinking lots. Try and snuggle in.

6.51am Turn over away from Baby scratching lips and kicking delicate stomach.

6.55am Turn back again to shush baby. Lie patting tummy and making coo-ing noises in gravelly zombie style voice.

7.32am Groan as Peppa finishes. Agree to one last one. Can only find 30 minute compilation. Smile inside and carry on patting Baby

8.02am Offer up stale Digestive in attempt to stave off breakfast.

8.05am Sit up. Take deep breaths. Tell Toddler you’re fine and try not to cry at how you ended up here.

8.10am Put Baby back to bed.

8.20am Pour cereal. Eat cereal.

8.22am Vomit cereal.

8.25am Pick Baby back up before head splits. Put Baby on Husbands back and leave the room quickly.

8.27am Clean up Toddlers spilt cereal.

8.28am Burn toast.

8.30am Eat toast with Toddler. Lie about not remembering the words to “5 Little Ducks”.

8.45am Suggest going to watch more Peppa

8.50am Doze off on sofa

8.54am Wake up being hit in the face with a cup. Provide more water. Down a pint for self.

8.57am Tell Toddler Mummy is fine, tummy just didn’t like the toast. Baby does it all the time, it’s ok.

9am Beg Toddler for cuddles

9.01am Bury face in Toddlers candy floss hair and cuddle round tum.

9.02am Cry when Toddler strokes face and says “I love you, Mummy”.

9.05am Feel guilty for crossly saying no more Peppa. Agree to watch Frozen to say sorry.

9.55am Wake up in panic. Where the hell is Toddler?!

9.57am Relief as see Toddler on kitchen floor surrounded by tubs and lids.

9.58am Annoyed at realise tubs contained rice, pasta and sugar.

10.05am Pause cleaning. More vomit.

10.10am Stomp upstairs to get dressed (and check on Husband and Baby).

10.12am Noisily sing “Let It Go” with Toddler.

10.14am Pick up Baby and snuggle. Smile smugly hearing Husband argue over clothes and relent on Scooby Doo costume.

10.30am Check clock to see if it’s time for Baby to sleep again yet.

10.35am Give Baby more milk to make it be quiet.

10.45am Frantically search for paracetamol and Barocca. Shout down to Husband for tea and crisps.

10.47am Make own tea and get own crisps.

11am Change pooey nappy.

11.03am Vomit up crisps

11.05am Check clock to see if it’s time for Baby to sleep again

11.10am Feel guilty for refusing to do jigsaw on bathroom floor with Toddler.

11.15am Lie on bathroom floor covered in towels pretending to do jigsaw.

11.20am Ask Toddler if she’s tired yet.

11.30am Break out in sweat as doorbell rings.

11.31am Argue with Husband about who’s going to answer door.

11.32am Freeze as hear front door open.

11.33am Run to shower on hearing in-laws voices.

11.34am Make “aaaah” noises in steaming hot shower.

11.40am Continue to stand in steaming hot shower.

11.46am Continue to stand in steaming hot shower.

11.47am Cry after Husband rubs bum against glass and shouts “Here’s Bummy!”

11.50am Start getting dressed really slowly.

12 noon Start countdown. 7 hours til bedtime.

12.10pm Wake up in bra and jeans on bed. Curse under breath.

12.15pm Cough lots to make voice normal. Clean teeth for fourth time.

12.17pm Fake happiness to see everyone. Excuse self to wretch in toilets.

12.30pm Steal cheese from Toddlers lunch. Frantically search cupboards for Mini Cheddars and Coca Cola.

12.35pm Tell everyone hangover is gone.

12.40pm Excuse self to put Toddler to bed.

12.50pm Lie down on bed as new wave of nausea hits

2.07pm Wake up to Toddler shouting “Mummy”. Hear faint baby crying. Groan. A lot.

2.10pm Try and think of reasons not to go to the park.

2.30pm Shiver on bench at park. Text in-laws and apologise for earlier disappearance.

3pm Countdown. 4 hours til bedtime.

3.25pm Argue with Toddler over leaving park.

3.30pm Watch Todler rubbing face in mud in tantrum. Rub face a lot as realise it’s bath night tonight. Then pizza…

3.32pm Drag Toddler by foot back into pram.

4pm Countdown. 3 hours til bedtime.

4.30pm Assume Baby jiggling position. Feel sick again.

5.25pm Defrost Toddler food.

5.30pm Eat half of Toddler food. Half-heartedly argue over ice cream for pudding.

5.32pm Give Toddler ice cream.

5.35pm Day dream about Dominos.

6pm Start move towards stairs muttering about pyjamas.

6.15pm Sniff baby and toddler. Confirm with Husband that baths can wait til tomorrow.

6.25pm Argue with Husband that you’re deserving of giving Baby milk in rocking chair in dimly lit room.

6.30pm Complete journey upstairs

6.40pm Let Toddler run around naked.

6.50pm Agree that Elsa & Ana probably don’t have to clean their teeth every night so we’ll do them twice in the morning.

6.51pm Read stories in best auctioneer voice.

7pm Collapse in exhausted heap on sofa.

7.13pm Accept offer of beer.

7.15pm Wonder why didn’t have beer at 6am.

7.20pm Order Dominos Meal Deal for 4.

8.15pm Devour 2 persons worth of Dominos.

8.25pm Complain about bloating.

8.27pm Pass out on sofa.

10pm Wake up in extreme state of confusion. Climb stairs on all fours.

10.05pm Stare at bed and remember dirty bedsheets. Feel for wet patches.

10.07pm Shrug and get in anyway.

Sound familiar?!  Are you a hungover parent?! If so, please like and share on Facebook or Twitter (@makinglittleppl). More blog content here. 

Tired? Busy? You Don’t Know The Meaning of Those Words

Tired? Busy? You Don’t Know The Meaning of Those Words

 

Every so often my little brother tells me he’s “really busy” and “tired”. As far as he is aware, he probably is. But you and I know, he’s not. He doesn’t even know the meaning of these words and, sometimes, when I’m having a bad day, I want to knee him in the wotsits and push him to the floor…(sorry Baby G!). I am tired. 

Sick and Tired

Girly No2, who is 1 this week (happy birthday bubbubs), has just started nursery and we’re in the being-constantly-sick-forever phase. You know the one I mean, that 6-week period of constant colds, all the viruses, chicken pox and hand, foot and mouth (neither of which are anything to do with chickens, which I’ve always found strange). I am buying so much Calpol and Nurofen I’m having to alternate my chemists lest the staff think I am drugging my children for my own amusement. The receptionist at the doctors and I pretty much high five as I pass by. And my daily battle with the Amoxicillin is causing me more rage than the tourists that stand on the wrong side of the escalator in London.

Before I move on to my theme – I must take a moment to rant about infant antibiotics. What f****g idiot made them lemon flavoured? (I have to star out now, Facebook recently blocked me for profanity and overtly sexual content – I resisted the urge to write and tell them how very not sexual my butchered vagina is. Luckily for them, medicines were due). Why would you choose lemons? Kids hate lemons – look! Where’s the banana gone? The flavour of my childhood! Still now the smell of bananas takes me back to being a sweaty, snotty mess wrapped in blankets and nestled in my Mum’s lap! If I ever come across the decision-makers on this one then I really will be profane. Facebook will expel me forever. Anyway. I digress.

Zzzzzzzzz

We are all very tired at the minute as we are all ill, covering up to three different illnesses at various stages between us. Night times are hell. Normally I am very lucky – my girlies sleep very well, 12 hours a night, and I am like any other parent, just a regular level of tiredness that accompanies the role of playing Mum (or Dad). At the moment though, we are in zombie mode. It’s like having a newborn. Girly no1, now 3, wakes up coughing at least once a night hacking her tiny little guts up. She’s fairly easy to pacify with medicine, water and cuddles…then she kicks you out and tells you to close the door on the way out. Girly no2 though is a different story. She’s the wailing banshee, the shouter, the 40-minute-bursts-of-sleep-er. You put her down, get back into bed and just as you get to that lovely bit where your body gives in to the heavenly feeling of sleep….she wails again. Last night this happened 4 times. I slept from 1 til 3 and 5.30 til 7. I’m bloody tired.

TIRED TIREDNESS SCALE

You Don’t Know Tired

So when I stare into the youthful face of Baby G, my 21-year-old brother, and he tells me he’s tired, you see why I briefly want to hurt him. When I’m feeling more rational, I don’t judge him at all. He’s in his twenties. He is a normal level of tired. BC (Before Children), I was the Queen of Being Tired. I used to sleep from 2am to 2pm every weekend and still be tired. I have blocked out instances when I might have dared uttered the words “I’m so tired” in front of any parents, the shame would be too much to recall. Because a strange thing happens when you become a parent; you enter a world of tiredness that you never knew existed. You do crazy things like a friend of mine did the other day and google “Chronic Exhaustion” genuinely comparing your own levels of tiredness with those of a refugee that has clung to the bottom of a lorry driving through the Eurotunnel for 4 days. You think you probably have the edge because for you, there is no end in sight. That is not to say child-free people don’t get tired, they do of course. But they don’t have the same hopelessness as a parent, because the parent knows that their windows of opportunity for sleep are controlled by the little people in their lives. They cannot take a sleeping tablet, or free up a weekend to just sleep, they just have to carry on. So deeply entrenched the lack of sleep becomes that even when the children leave home, the parents still wake up stupidly early. I never understood this about the oldies but now I totally get it. The innocent ability to sleep whenever and wherever is rarely fully regained. An appreciation is learned, but the ability never reacquired.

Or Busy

The other thing that makes my jaw twitch is Baby G telling me he is busy. I understand that there are busier people than me in the world. I would not, for example, sit in front of Theresa May and tell her I am busy. Alan Sugar either. My cousin, mother to eight and running her family business. There are just some people you know that, although you feel busy, you know you’re not quite as busy as them.  Baby G has three things in his life – his job (engineer for a well known gas company), his car (?!) and seeing his friends. Don’t get me wrong, I think this is great. He is 21, he shouldn’t have other things to be worrying about. But I do find it irksome when he tells me that no, he hasn’t given any thought to Dad’s birthday in two days time because he has been too busy and is soooo tired. “Busy?! DOING WHAT?!” I want to shout! What things could you possibly have in your life besides how to have the most fun at your mate’s this weekend? Smoking is not an activity! Perusing the internet for new hub caps, also not an activity. Teaching yourself how to play your new decks? How lovely to have the time to learn something new! But also – not an activity.

As he tells me the 5 things he’s done in the last week that meant he forgot to pop next door to pick up the only copy of the rare book we want to buy Dad, my to do list for the day will flip through my head. Today’s: breakfast (we all know that feeding a one-year old and a three-year old at the same time is a beast of a task); both girls to school for 9am; run 5k; let cleaners in (who has time to clean?!); get showered and changed (must look as least gross as possible as sitting in hair dressers in front of a mirror for two hours); do 2-hours work to prove commitment to new business partner; plan no2’s birthday party in 3 days time; order food and drink (online shop obvs); shop for Christmas shoebox donations and make up boxes; buy and make dinner; go for hair cut (write blog whilst highlights develop); write and send thank you cards for no1’s birthday (now 6 weeks ago – too late? Is it OK to combine thank you cards from both Girlies?!); return clothes that made you look like Gemma Collins before it’s too late for a refund; message friend with whom it took you six attempts to make a date confessing that you’ve totally screwed up and send her list of dates you can actually do; submit claim for lost watch in Amsterdam; and shave your legs because it’s been two weeks since you last touched your husband (unlikely I’ll make it this far but shows I am at least thinking about him). These are the things that just have to be done in order to keep life ticking over. They sound small and quick but they are interspersed with the bear-wrestling-doses of antibiotics to be administered, at least 4 or 5 little sicks on our new carpet to be cleaned up, 3 watery bitty pooey nappies to be changed, 4332 questions from No1 to be answered, regular “Quick Mummy! The wee wee is coming now!” toilet trips and then the usual dithering and dallying of trying to leave anywhere. It’s just a different level of busy-ness.

But I made my bed

Anyone without children may well be feeling a prickle of annoyance. I’m not saying that your things are any more or less important than mine. Not that I am busier or more tired. These things are relative and we all make our own paths. I know I made my bed…it would just be nice to lie in it from time to time. I can, however, listen to my darling brother, whose nappy I changed when I was 14 (putting me off having babies until my early 30’s), and have a 3-second facial fit that looks like one of my wires has come loose when he tells me about his busy and exhausting life. When I recover, I smile and pat him on the arm and say “don’t worry, I’ll sort dads birthday” whilst secretly imagining I’m giving him a Chinese burn. One day I will share with him the truth and remind him of these times. I fantasise that I will do it when his first baby is about 4 weeks old and he’s so tired he’s nearly in tears. Then I’ll feel bad so I’ll hug him and tell him he will come out the other side….eventually….just give me your baby and go back to bed! 

 

If you have enjoyed this very mean post directed at my poor innocent brother, please like (more likes means more visibility for me) and share on Facebook or Twitter. If it’s shared enough even he might see it. Though he’ll probably be too busy to read it! If you think I am a horrible bitch who should stop complaining and get on with life then tell me on a day when I have had more than 3 hours sleep so I don’t poke you in the eye. Thanks for stopping by!
Life Love and Dirty Dishes

 

THINGS YOU MIGHT FEEL IN THE FIRST YEAR

THINGS YOU MIGHT FEEL IN THE FIRST YEAR

This list is Things You Might Feel in the First Year. You might not feel them but I sure did. 

5 mins post delivery: Elation, disbelief and tears. Shit. A human just came out of me. Did anyone else see that?! Other than the 45 people that were in here at the time?
30 mins: Exhaustion, awe and gooey mushiness. Look at it. Just look at it. Wow.

3 hours: Disbelief. Slight concern that Baby won’t be quiet and I don’t know how to look after it. Where’s the thing you press to call the midwife? Can she come home with us? Feed it more. Pain killers wearing off, down below feeling a little bruised.

6 hours: Uncomfortable. Fanny and arse on fire, can’t sit down. Shifting uncomfortably from left bum cheek to right helps. Want to go home.

12 hours: Drained but excited. Babies in ward waking up constantly. Mine slept, I got 5 hours! I’ve got this Mum shit down! Can’t wait to get home.

12.5 hours: Embarrassed. Just been told off for not waking Baby up every 3 hours. How was I supposed to know?!

1 day: Impatient. Still waiting for going home papers. Still can’t sit down.

1.5 days: Panicked. Just had midwife spiel on all the things you should and shouldn’t do, the appointments you have to make, the legal requirements you’re supposed to remember. What have I done? Who thought this was a good idea? Lower half of body in excruciating pain after jumping up to gather leaflets in eagerness to demonstrate how good a mother I’m going to be.

1.7 days: Delighted. Walking (shuffling) through the double doors out of the hospital with sleepy little baby. This is going to be marvellous!

1.75 days: Sluggish. Wondering who drove a bus into your vagina and whether you’ll tick over to 24 hours parking since that’s how long this 200m walk to the car is going to take.

1.8 days: Overjoyed. Home! Back into gooey mushiness and gazing wonderment, especially as all it does is sleep! I love it!

2 days: Terrified. What the fuck? Who let me bring this thing home? I don’t know how to look after a child! Why does it keep making that noise? Oh….the Baby has gone green. It’s covered in poo. That’s ok. I can handle poo even if it does go from ears to toes. Cleaning is fine. Pretend it’s a dirty frying pan. What’s next? Don’t worry about what’s next. One thing at a time. Deal with the shit.

3 days: Worried. Unable to remember the last time I closed my eyes and that high pitched wail didn’t pierce my ear drum. Arse and fanny swollen to the size of a house. Just want to sleep for 12 hours like before it got here.

4 days: Tearful. Boobs swollen to watermelons. Wondering when I might not feel like I’ve been run over by a bus forwards, backwards and forwards again.

5 days: Mortified and Irritated. Wet patches on my top. Milk keeps seeping through in front of my father in law. Sick of the smell of flowers, they keep making me sneeze. Baby sleeps on all visitors then does nothing but wail for me. Go away! It’s my Baby!

One week: Annoyed. Thought “sleeping like a baby” was a thing?

Two weeks: Shit! Got a cold. Fanny stinging constantly and only relieved when crab walking naked round house. Found all the leaflets from the midwife and haven’t done any of it. So, so tired. And Husband is a dick.

Three weeks: Amazed. 4 consecutive hours sleep last night! New. Woman. Still feel like eyeballs have been sandpapered but can survive on this. Only 40 minutes late to friends house today. Winning! Bits are itchy but bearable. Love Husband, he’s so great.

3.1 weeks: Disappointed. Aaaaargh! Must have been a one off. Back to 3 90 minute blocks of sleep. Why hasn’t stupid Husband got boobs?! Think I might die of sleep deprivation. Cuddled the checkout boy in Tescos by accident. Call mum begging for her to take the Baby away. Call back 10 minutes later to cancel, guilt set in. Such a bad Mother. Didn’t mean it. Promise. Missed doctors appointment altogether as caught in a poo-eat-sick spiral. Begged for new appointment. Fanny relief came in the form of a cream. Why didn’t they send me away from the hospital with this?!

4 weeks. Defeated. Can’t take this. Babies shouldn’t have such stupidly small stomachs. Whose idea was it to have a baby anyway?

5 weeks: Elated! Baby smiled! Love it so much! It’s so cute, look at this!

6 weeks: Hopeful. Black clouds are clearing. Last 3 nights had 2 lots of 4 consecutive hours’ sleep. That smile…

6.5 weeks: Delirious. Doctor talked about sex at 6 week check. Laughed all the way home. Then cried when saw Husband. Please don’t run away with Hot Receptionist with her stupid in-tact fanny.

Things you feel in the first year

8 weeks: Furious. Why the fuck are you stabbing my baby with all these diseases? I’m not coming back for the next set of immunisations, this is ridiculous.

9 weeks: Ashamed. Tried that thing the doctor said about. Fanny is a cave. It will never be the same again. Cried during sex. Husband will never touch me again. Just take him Hot Receptionist…

11 weeks: Satisfied. Tried “it” again in spare bedroom after Baby fell asleep on our bed. It was ok. Bit like being 16, but ok. Will leave handcuffs and lingerie in the drawer for a while longer yet.

3 months: Knowledgable. Researched immunisations and decided to go back. Resisted punching doctor. Gave advice to another Mum in docs waiting room. Feel like a hero. I know stuff! Feeling brighter. Accepting of new life. Wish I could get back in my jeans for date night.

4 months: Organised. Routine established. Days have structure. Baby wakes up at 3am then 7am. Do-able. Joined gym. Have the occasional thought about going back to work, throat swells up.

5 months: Confused. Weaning? Is like weeing? Thought potty training was ages away. Must talk to other Mums.

5.5 months: More confused than ever. Buy blender. And bananas. And rice. Basmati?

5.6 months Wrong rice. Return it and buy Baby rice.

6 months: Exasperated. Routine lost. Spend all day feeding. Shit stinks.

6.5 months: Betrayed. Dada?! Are you kidding me?

7 months: Trepidation. Err….it moved. WTF? This house is a danger zone.

8 months: Anxious. Why must everything go in the mouth?! You can’t eat Babybel wax! Wish it would lie still again.

9 months: Heartbroken. “Keep In Touch” day at work. Cry on train. Cry in toilets at work. Call home seven times. Run back to the train station and snap heel on new shoes. Don’t care. Don’t let go of Baby for 3 hours. Re-do finances and research working at local nursery.

10 months: Pained. Back killing from holding baby upright so it can walk. Can’t you just crawl again?

11 months: Focused. Spend all day on knees with arms around Baby making a cage to stop it falling on face. Bump on head from last week. Am waiting for Social Services to knock on door. Finally able to do button up on pre baby jeans. Now to lose muffin top.

12 months: Proud and Reminiscing. Made it to a year! Baby is so big and so clever! More so than every other baby at nursery. It’s gone too fast! Remember how cute it was? Remember that sniffly noise it used to make? Big sigh. Maybe we could go away for the weekend and drink and lie in like grown ups. Remember when we used to lie in? Remember how much fun Friday nights were? Remember when parents used to say all those cliche things and we’d roll our eyes but now we know they’re all true? Don’t care….love new life.

Recognise any of these as things you feel in the first year?! Send yours in via the Making Little People Facebook page or on Twitter (@makinglittleppl). More blog posts available here. 

Things you feel in the first year
List of Parent Games

List of Parent Games

Is your new baby causing some tension in your relationship or family? Try one of our top 6 parent games for some light relief. Share your own games with us via Twitter (@makinglittleppl) or on the Facebook page

1. Curry or Poo (multi-player): 

Impromptu game best played in first 6 months of baby life, when baby poo and curry have been present on the same day (which should be at least twice weekly in first three months)

Objective: Be the first to call “curry or poo” and avoid being the taster.

Instructions: Identify specimen and call “curry or poo”. Name the taster (whoever you hate most in the room, often likely to be your partner). Taster calls it while everyone else hopes it’s not curry.

Parent Game curry or poo

2. Sniff the Wet Patch (multi player): 

Works with any wet patch.

Objective: To avoid sniffing the patch

Instructions: First to spot the patch calls “sniff”. The loser has to name it and clean it up.

3. Breast Milk Roulette (2-3 player optimum): 

Requires frozen breast milk. For health & safety reasons, we recommend milk is no older than 6 months.

Objective: To avoid the consumption of sour old boob juice.

Instructions: Defrost frozen breast milk (best done in 1oz cubes). Take it in turns to taste milk to see whether it is “off”, you will know because it will taste like cat sick. Loser is anyone that tastes an “off” one.

 

4. Poonami Rumble (for one player, personal challenge): 

Best played in first year when poo consistency and frequency are unpredictable.

Objective: As few nappy changes as possible in a 24 hour period.

Instructions: Use child’s chalk board to record number of nappy changes achieved each day.  Note that for health and safety reasons, nappy must be changed at least every 4 hours between 7am and 7pm (this is par). On hearing the Poonami Rumble from your child (sounds like blowing down a straw into a milkshake), decide whether to wait for more poo and risk seepage, or to change there and then, adding to your nappy count. Best played over a 30-day period. Reward PB’s with prosecco.

5. Who Can Pretend to be Asleep for Longest (2 players): 

Traditional new parent game most frequently played in the first 12 months of life. Nobody knows the history but it is estimated it was invented with the dawn of civilisation.

Objective: To stay in bed from 11pm to 7am

Instructions: On hearing baby or child make a noise, both lie as still as possible for as long as possible while maintaining sleeping breathing pattern. Loser is the first one to jump out of bed growling.

6. Sick Patch (multi-player):

Good game for breaking tension in the first 6 months after birth. Provides opportunity to inflict revenge on another player so choose competitors carefully (e.g. partner, mother-in-law, neighbour).

Objective: To find the source of the sick smell and have another player clean it up.

Instructions: Pick one player to call “ready, steady, SNIFF”. All other players sniff all fabric items (including carpet if relevant). Winner is first to shout “Sick Patch!” without gagging (any spittle/bile leaving the mouth disqualifies player). Winner selects cleaner (loser), who cleans it up or does washload, as appropriate.

 

So there you have it. Our top six parent games for bringing laughter back in your world. Share your games with us via Twitter (@makinglittleppl) or on our Facebook page

More blog posts available here