Do you ever have those days? You know the ones that I mean, the kind of days where you just cant be arsed.
Well I know I sure do. And I am having one today.
I guess that there is nothing particularly wrong with today, but I am flouncing around in a mood. And I can’t be arsed doing much of anything at all. I certainly can’t be bothered adulting or parenting. But I don’t really have a choice. Sigh.
And that’s life ssssshhhhweetheart.
My mood started last night. My husband and I had an argument, like all couples do from time to time. It was over absolutely nothing and was triggered purely by the fact that we were both pretty tired. Especially me. Yes, I am a monster when tired. And because of the argument, I went to bed just a little bit grumpy, and coincidentally had the worst nights sleep ever. Such fun.
So I woke up exhausted, and shockingly even grumpier than when I had gone to bed. Weirdly enough so had my husband and he is usually the kind of man who bounces around no matter what he is feeling on the inside. The smug human. Oh, with the exception of when his footy team loses of course. Then you can forget about any kind of bouncing from him.
So I woke up like a grumpy pants. Which meant that this day would not end well. No way girlfriend. Nup.
I rolled over and whispered through hopeful teeth to my husband “would you like the first shower darling”, to which he unceremoniously grunted back at me a truly non-negotiable “nope”. In a fit of rage I launched myself out of bed and into the icy cold night. Sorry. Morning. It was morning. I’m sure of it.
I fled into the shower, turned up the hot water and sat down on the floor. Because standing up was too hard. I just couldn’t do it. I felt bone wearily tired and wanted to be asleep again in our nice soft and warm bed. But I couldn’t, so why waste energy? Instead I sat there on the floor of the shower until there was no more hot water. Like a jerk. Sucked in husband. That’s what you get for stealing my sleep darling man.
And then when I finally got out and got dressed, I headed in and woke up our son. I tickled him until he squealed with laughter, and then I tickled him some more. I got him changed for the day. And then I sat down for a rest, and watched him toss his toys around his bedroom without any regard for his tired mumma who would have to pick everything up off the floor afterwards.
Yep, I watched, and yet I didn’t say a word. Or make him put them back. Because I just couldn’t be arsed.
I had a doctors appointment at 9:15am for my sons eczema and as it was raining hard outside, traffic was at a standstill, so I was five minutes late (#SOML). We got soaking wet walking the short distance from the car to the doctor’s surgery which added to my mood, and then soggily sat down to wait patiently for our appointment.
And when I say that we waited “patiently”, I mean that in addition to being drenched in rain water, I was starting to stress sweat from the sheer force of trying to calm my son while he screamed and arched his back over being forced to sit still. I mean, how dare I make him be still when all he wanted to do was to launch himself into the doctors stash of medicine and needles, and barge rudely into other people’s personal lady-parts appointments. Rudeness!
We got through our appointment of course, but barely. I just had to wrench the doctors scales out of the little mans hands for the 6 millionth time in the 15 minute appointment, however before we knew it we were finished and could head home.
Walking back to the car after the appointment was also surprisingly exhausting, as instead of walking in a straight and sensible line to the car, the little tyrant ran up every single driveway, and jumped on every single patch of grass, and picked up every soggy leaf that we walked past. I am pretty sure that he did so purely because I specifically told him that we needed to head straight to the car.
When we got home that I immediately pulled out my sons baby sized couch and stretched out. I was so tired that I was starting to get tunnel vision. I barely even knew where I was. So, I shut my eyes and pretended to play “mountains” with him. This essentially means that I (as “the mountain”) got to lay there and half snooze whilst he climbed all over me like a mountain goat. It was great. He didn’t expect a whole lot more activity from me – I think he could sense that mummy was mentally out of action for the rest of the day. So as long as I occasionally grunted in his direction whilst drool pooled below my face, he was happy.
I love my son, more than anything. I really do. And I am pretty sure that he knows that my face planting, red-eyed parenting style today doesn’t reflect my usual “mumminess”, but today I just can’t be arsed. It isn’t the first day that I have felt this way, and it certainly wont be the last day. But as long as I get through this day, then I know it will all be better tomorrow.
Because tomorrow after a good nights sleep (oh lordy please let me get a solid 8 hours in) I will be a kick-arse mum. I will remember my name, I will read the same book a million times in a row without complaint or slur, and I also hereby vow mop the floor after food is thrown on it (as opposed to just calling the dog over to clean it up). Well. I think I will anyway.
And in the meantime, I am off to bed. To dream about become a better human.
For the good of child and husband kind.
Do you have days where you also just cant be arsed?? Leave a comment below and tell me all about how you get through it! xxxx
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