Now if you've clicked into this link thinking: Tantrums! Pah! My sproglet can out epic tantrum her sproglet any day of the week. Bring. It. On.
Well sorry to disappoint (and my mini ones can take on yours with their arms tied behind their backs) but this is more about my (ahem) tantrums and childish behaviour.
We all have them. Little incidents were we metaphorically stamp our feet to huge fire-breathing random rages. Here are my most epic ones EVER.
The lie in tantrum
The catalyst: It is your turn for a lie in. You know this as this information is more precious to you than your son’s birth date. Your man seems to have forgotten and is in no rush to stir as the baby shouts “yo yo yo rat fans” or some other nonsense from the cot. You can’t open your eyes because if you do then you are bloody awake and then WHAT IS THE POINT. You try subtly kicking him. Then coughing. Then pulling off the duvet. Quick there is singing coming from the girl’s room. Now the boy is shouting: “Mummy do you want to hear my dream about willies?” They are all waking up now except this lump beside me.
The rage line you want to shout: OI (insert sweary word of choice) IT IS YOUR TURN TO GET UP. QUICK QUICK YOU (insert sweary word of choice) BEFORE I OPEN MY EYES!
The solution: Remember he is going out with his friends tonight. Whisper “darling shall I get up with the babies now and I will have a lie in tomorrow instead. I really don't mind. Oh hang on you might be a bit worse for wear…… never mind my sweet you rest now. You can have mega fun with them all at 6am tomorrow.” Never will you see a man move so fast.
The tidy/repeat/tidy/repeat tantrum
The catalyst: It is Saturday afternoon – your friend with no kids said she might pop in. Just in case you need to bring some order to your home. You start in the kitchen by actually drying the dishes and putting them away. Then you scoop up school letters/homework and hide them so that they can never be found again (just blame the kids for losing them). Move to living room. Throw toys in boxes, polish and hoover. Take stray plastic cups that were having a party under the TV unit into the kitchen. Alas someone has made a sandwich and left all the crap all over the place. Sigh loudly and tidy away. Come back into living room and someone has decided to play book shop all over the floor. Pick up books. Back again into the kitchen and someone has walked mud in. Into the living room and the (insert sweary word of choice) Lego is out.
The rage line you want to shout: WHY AM I GOING AROUND IN CIRCLES PICKING UP AFTER YOU (insert sweary word of choice)!
The solution: Ring friend and tell her to not wear her glasses. Better still say you will meet her in beer garden at top of the road.
The Facebook tantrum
The catalyst: You are sitting on the couch in a manky old tee-shirt and PJ bottoms from four Christmases ago feeling slightly ill having just polished of a whole Easter egg (telling yourself they are thinner this year). You couldn't feel less sexier if you tried but then you click on Facebook. Suddenly every fecker has got dressed up and gone out on the tiles. You see pictures of an old school friend’s friend’s sister looking gorg and drinking swanky cocktails in some hotel bar. Then you scroll down and someone else (who you worked with 12 years ago) is also sat in a bar surrounded by model mates giving a thumbs up.
The rage line you want to shout: WHY DOES EVERYONE HAVE LIVES APART FROM ME?! WHY IS EVERYONE MORE GLAMOROUS? WHY AM I NOT OUT WEARING WHISTLES STUFF AND DRINKING GREY GOOSE! HEY HEY!
The solution: Ring/text some friends and make some vague plans about going out that you know you’ll never keep.
The "just because" tantrum
The catalyst: Nothing. You are just in A. Bad. Mood. Okay. OKAY! Everything is annoying you from the fact you haven’t sat down all day, no one ate their tea and the husband is working late. You have to bath small people and dry them and dress them and read stories and change bums and give milk before you have a bit of peace and a
The rage line you want to shout: ARGGHHHHHHHHH. I WANT AN AU PAIR - IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?
The solution: Sort the baby out sharpish then bribe the older two to go to bed at 6pm with a mini Mars bar and copy of the Beano.
|Me in mirror. Me in head.|
The changing room tantrum
The catalyst: You have a thing to go to and you want to
The rage line you want to shout: WHY DID SOMEONE FORCE FEED ME THAT EASTER EGG? WHY DOES NOTHING FIT OR IF IT DOES WHY DO I LOOK LIKE A FAT FRUMP? YOU GANG OF (insert sweary word of choice).
The solution: Leave Top Shop now – face facts it is not for you anymore. Side step Miss Selfridge. Wallis is more your game now or Bon Marche. Screw it - go get cake and then just buy new shoes. Everyone is a super model in new shoes.
|Gabe says: "My eyes. My eyes. Please never wear THAT OUTFIT!"|