Operation: Clean Out All The Crap

What a gorgeous weekend we had - it was the most relaxed I had been in ages.  Even the small humans played ball and were quite lovely for the majority of it.  It's amazing how everything seems better when the sun is shining and the 7am weekend get ups after a 1am bedtime are easier to deal with when you are sat in the garden rather than trying to stop your toes falling off with cold because you forgot to turn the heating timer on as you stumbled into bed totally ginned up!

I'm on a bit of a mission at the moment: Operation Clean Out All The Crap.  The amount of junk you amass as a parent is untrue.  Plastic bits of this.  Coloured bits of that.  Random dolls heads. Every time I open a cupboard or a drawer, a variety of useless stuff falls out on me and I curse it - but then I push it all back in and get on with my day.  Well, no more.  Starting tomorrow {always tomorrow} I am on a one woman mission to take my house back.  Room by room.  Cupboard by cupboard.  If we don't use it a lot then it's fair game.  Charity, Tip and eBay {just because I don't come across enough fuckwits in my day to day life, I thought I'd add a bit of auction, no paying,  timewasting fun in there, because we all know how much fun that is} will all be my 'friends'.  I have to time this right though as you know those toys that the small humans haven't looked at in 8 months will suddenly become all time favourites again if I don't get them bagged up and out of view before they see them all. 

Worse than them maybe, is when my sentimentality kicks in.  'Oh but I remember them wearing these' 'That was SO cute when it fitted 4 years ago' 'That one must go in the memory box'.  You know it, you've all done the same {haven't you?!}.  I am sentimental or attached to nothing else.  I'm really good at separating myself from things.  But when it comes to a rag of material that one of our offspring wore for 3 seconds or more, I am useless.  I don't even have the 'keep them for the future thing' as this baby making set up has closed its doors and won't be opening again.  It's got to the point that the biggest small human now asks for me to put some of her clothes in the memory box for when she has a baby! And how can I say no to that!?

If I manage this, I might think a bit more seriously about the KonMari (Marie Kondo) thing, but a huge part of me knows that it would just never stick here.  There are two tiny mess makers that would see to that! It would just be nice to have some 'space', where everything wasn't crammed full of crap! So we'll see.  For now, I'll take being able to get my knickers out my underwear drawer without having to claw my way through pay slips from 1996 and my part time job in Sports Direct {why are their mugs so massive?? And why do they desperately try and sell one every time you log into their website?? If anyone can enlighten me I'd really appreciate it}

First Day Back To Normality

So, today is back to normal. School.  Work.  Normal.  You know, being screamed at on a new level because you do not have the exact type of cereal requested, even though the one dishing out the relative bollocking picked the offending offering themselves.  Even though you checked 14 times to make sure as you wanted to avoid this exact situation.  Dragging small humans out of bed with just enough time to get dressed and out the door because all other attempts to wake them gently have gone ignored.  You know.  Normal.  And I successfully got them out the door and to school on time. And as I walked past the other parents on the way to class, I wondered if they too had been presented with the same levels of fuckery that I had been.  And if so, how they hell did they then find time to make an effort?  I mean, the kids clothes?  They might be clean. Maybe. Mine?  Well, I'm pretty sure I wore this t-shirt to bed on Saturday and my washing machine hasn't made a noise since.  Two children are safely delivered to their respective classes and I can breathe a sigh of relief & head home to coffee, potter and work.

It's a nice morning here, sunny & I allow myself to start to relax.  This isn't so bad, everyone is where they need to be and things are being done.  I fling the hoover around a bit half arsed but enough to get the majority of the breakfast that was lobbed my way & I figure the dog will get the rest later.  I sit for a minute and it's quiet.  So quiet. And then I notice the time and it's almost pick up for the smallest human but that's ok.  They're normally in good sprits and they had a new toy to take in to show their friends today so all will be well. And there was my mistake.  The assumption that my mellow would not be harshed.  For what I was actually presented with was a small human who had apparently lost the ability to speak and could only do the single most annoying thing they can do {you know the one.  Not talking, not crying, not screaming.  Just THAT noise}. The child who until they had noticed me there, had looked like the happiest person in the world. I instantly wondered if I could get away with leaving the bundle of coat and hair which was now on the floor by my feet here for the rest of the day but figured as I was already here, it may be frowned upon. Instead, I smiled, thanked the teachers and took to my heels hoping that on the way to the car, we didn't pass any of those parents.  You know the ones who have small humans who would never have a shit fit?  A mix of that and that if we did, it would be before I joined in with the crying and arm flailing too.  We get to the car, I bundle in a grunting, sweaty small human who was still making that noise.  And we drive home.  In relative silence which considering the last 7 minutes of my life is actually quite welcome.

We get home, I park up, small human gets out of the car without my help as if to press home just how pissed off they are that I do not have the 'treat' that it turns out had triggered this whole thing (that and the fact that almost zero sleep was had last night I imagine but I figured pointing that out wouldn't really help the situation).  We unlock the door, go in the house and I ask if a cuddle would help.  Apparently not.  Not one bit in fact.  So I take myself into the other room and leave them to it.  A few minutes later, a small hand appears on the door, followed by a little sweaty face. I thought the cuddle I had previously offered was going to be called in but no.  Instead 'Have we got any wraps?'  And just like that, it turns out that a flat bread product can be just the thing to bring you all back to a level playing field because thankfully, I did indeed have wraps. So I'll take that parenting win and go with it.  And I am now using these tools to assist me with the rest of the day because quite honestly, I can not be fucked to deal with anything like that again today.  And sometimes, that's ok!

Toilet Stops Post Children

One of my favourite blogs, @hurrah4gin pretty much nailed it with this. If I'm lucky enough to get in the toilet and whip my knickers to my ankles without the small humans knicking the toilet from under me, standing pointing and loudly telling me my arse is too big for the seat or inviting the entire road in for a get together, then I'll take that opportunity to lock myself away and scroll through anything that takes my fancy. If I've remembered to stash some snacks from a previous bath time, all the better. However, sometimes I forget that it's not great when out and about. Like at the weekend at my inlaws. I crept off whilst the grandparents entertained the kids for 5 minutes and happily sat there {no snacks though disappointingly}. For about 30 minutes. When I had read enough memes, saw enough dancing cats & bought our dream home with an imaginary lottery win budget, I decided I'd best rejoin the party. No one said anything but Mr Pea gave me the look that said he knew exactly what I'd been doing {& that he was massively jealous of the alone time I'd just had} but that the parents thought I'd had a dodgy curry for tea last night. I didn't care. I'd just had the most "me" time I'd had in a week. And they have a lovely bathroom. I simply smiled and asked if they had more cake. They did. By my standards, that was a pretty good 45 minutes 👍

Bank Holiday 'Fun'

Sometime, long, long ago, I remember how a Bank Holiday Monday went down.  We'd wake up around mid morning, have some breakfast, watch a movie or go do some shopping {for us, not house items or brightly coloured plastic, loud, irritating tat} & we'd finish it off by jumping back into bed for a few hours before ordering in some food all whilst tanking a bottle of something cold & alcoholic.

Today? Well, at approximately 6.42am I was woken up by the sound of the TV being put on full blast - having never had the desire to be the most irritating human on the planet before, I have fought any urge to keep my finger on the + button until it maxed out so I wasn't sure how loud a TV actually went.  Turns out it's really, really, really loud. The kind of loud that you think might make your eyeballs bleed.  You see, this is one of those parenting cross roads.  In part, it's great when the small humans get to the point where they are happy to get up & play for a bit themselves, but by letting them do so, even for 5 minutes, it can cost you the rest of the day as the carnage they can cause in that time is something that will need you to be sorting for the next 7 hours. It's a tough call.  The pull to stay in bed for those extra few minutes is strong.  Like the Force.  But the desire not to spend your day again picking up and putting away more crap that you don't even recognise {as your Mum in Law has most likely smuggled it into your house} is fighting with your lazy arse self & wants to win.  Bad. 

Anyway, back to this morning.  Once I'd lept out of bed with the grace of a newborn cow & bolted {ok, I couldn't bolt anywhere - maybe stumbled around at a slightly faster pace}, I could find small humans nowhere.  And yet, the TV was screaming at me at a level that said it too was pissed off at being woken from it's Bank Holiday slumber.  Of course, the remote control was nowhere to be seen either so a quick fumble of a load of hidden buttons & there you go.  Silence.  Now, where are the small humans I am betting are responsible for this? By the instant yelling of 'Muuuuuuuuum.  We were watching that' I trace them to a bedroom.  Both laying totally hidden under the duvet which I am assuming is an attempt to save their eardrums from exploding.  Really?  Watching it? From under there? 'Yes Mum - we arrrrrrrrrrrre'.  Ok.  So why are you hiding under the duvet? 'Can we have breakfast'.  Obviously. And that's me up.

Instagram Life

I am a huge Instagram fan.  Maybe an addict.  Maybe.  Some might say.  Anyway, I have just set up another account over there so if you are like me and spend way too many hours scrolling through hundreds of photos, filtering the shit out of our knackered faces and oooooohing over all the pretties, then come say hello.  I'm TheLifeAndTimesOfMrsPea......see what I did there?!

Ps: I should say, I may eventually link my personal account to the Blog but for now, I think the freedom to be totally honest and open and write about real things without worry of people I 'know' getting up in arms about the fact that sometimes {ok, a lot of times} the reason my bra is laying on the floor where you stand in our lounge isn't because I dropped it from the washing pile on the way through to the kitchen but because that is where Mr Pea and I found ourselves getting the opportunity to have actual grown up sex last night as opposed to a fumble through a sick covered t-shirt & I totally forgot to move it. 

Well, Hello There!

So.  Blogging.  I've thought I might like to have a dabble for a while now.  And then I'd think whoever would want to read anything I had to say? I mean, my life is hardly exciting.  I work.  I wife.  I mum. But who doesn't do those things? So, why would anything I could say about this normal, everyday and if we are being honest, sometimes {ok, a lot of the time} fairly boring stuff mean anything to anyone.  And then I realised, it might just mean something to me.  On days when I feel like I am about to loose my shit for the 786th time, if I can sit down & take a few minutes just to put the no doubt ridiculous situation into some kind of context by writing it down & most likely using a lot of expletives, then it might just help me.

And so here we are.  I'm not sure how it will go.  I'm not sure if I'll be any 'good' {& while I'm at it, why do us women do that? Why do we worry about being good at things rather than just enjoying doing them? Another post for another time maybe as it's way too heavy for my first tentative steps, especially on a bank holiday weekend when there is gin to be drunk shortly}.

If you've found me then it would be awesome if you hang around, see where we go & join in this crazy, fun, knackering journey that is life.  And for now, I can hear what sounds like a heavy metal show coming from the small humans bedroom so I best go and make sure it is just them & that they haven't smuggled an actual band in there - nothing would surprise me with those two.

See Ya!