So yesterday went better than I expected. I didn’t bother opening the blinds, we didn’t go out and it took Jake an hour and a half to go down for his nap, but still. Jake only went manically whiny in the evening, when Paul came home from work. Paul asked him, “Are you mental?” and Jake replied, “NO! I JAKE!!” And the only mishap of the day was when I forgot to tell Jake (like I usually do), not to touch my tea because it was hot, left the room and then heard him cry a few seconds later. It was one of those sharp cries where you immediately know something’s wrong. I came into the room to find him holding his sleepsuit away from his chest and bawling. There was tea all down his front. Luckily it wasn’t hot enough to scald him, but it did scare him. Sometimes I just forget. He’s 27 months old and capable and articulate in so many ways, but I still need to remind him not to touch hot things and not to put buttons in his mouth.
And today? For some reason I woke up cheerful. I can’t think why. Perhaps it was all the garlic I ate yesterday. Fresh garlic from the ful medames I'd made. I’d been craving it since we were on holiday in Spain. A few more days there and I would’ve been reverting back to vegetarianism. The Spanish are extremely fond of their sweets and their meat. Anyway, I finally got to satisfy my craving yesterday. I had such strong garlic breath I woke up with a distilled version of it still on my tongue. Mmmmm nice. All this aside, fresh garlic is supposed to be good for your heart, so maybe it can accidentally lead to cheerfulness. Now you know. Consider yourself warned.
But before I start worrying everyone unduly, this cheerfulness mainly translated itself into singing the Show Me Show Me theme tune and meaning it, and then doing clippety-clops around the living room along with Chris & Pui. Jake was not impressed. He looked at me disapprovingly and then said very quietly, “Don’t want it.” Only 2 and he’s already embarrassed by me.
Anyway, it didn’t last, the cheeriness. Lately I’ve been wishing that I had a job to go to. A fairly interesting but not too stressful part-time job with nice people I can talk to about something other than naps, potty training and poo. About half an hour into playing trains with Jake I wanted to scream. I was able to appreciate his imagination and the fact that he just wanted my company, I didn’t even have to join in very much, but I couldn’t get away from the fact that I was bored. A few fraught demands for cuggles while I was cooking and then refusing to eat what I’d made for him, and shouting ensued. It’s only 2pm, but Jake has already asked me at least 8 times, “Mummy happy?” and offering kisses. And when he sees that I am not, he cries and I try not to feel like a shit.
Rather synchronistically, I dropped Jake’s poo on the way to flushing it down the loo. I exclaimed rather loudly and Jake came running. “What happened Mummy?”
“I dropped your poo on the floor.”
“Oh. It’s okay. Kiss it better Mummy?”
Some things you just can’t (or shouldn't) kiss better.
But at least it didn’t fall on carpet.
That was today’s mishap. I wonder what’s in store for us tomorrow.
Try not to explode with anticipation, ok?