Why the dogs are getting so fat. It’s Monday and second mom aka Portia could not come in to work. Between Kev and I we are sweating to make meetings and get work done, one watch the baby while the other goes to work and then we swap. I turn my back for two minutes. The photo does it zero justice; we have dried cereal all over the house for days. Such a cliché but the struggle is really real.

Tuesday. Portia is still sick. I have work and a much needed hair appointment (first world problem you’ll say until you see my hair). Tom simply has to go with me everywhere, thank goodness the other two are in school. This was fun actually, bar the few times he nearly picked up a hot straightening iron. There were plenty of ladies around to love him and eventually he passed out. Under a towel from the hairdresser. Which I must return, remind me.

Milk drunk in a trolley as we grab essentials like toilet paper and wine.

Wednesday: mini break down where I shout something random that nobody pays any attention to before I run out of the house. I then feel extremely sorry for myself about the sensory overload and this is where I hide to feel sorry for myself and to send a few venting voice notes to mom friends who understand and who feel equally sorry for me. It’s on some dirty steps, under some ugly aircon units where only the cats hang out. I can hear the kids calling for me but nobody can hear anything under these steps and under these aircon units. A lot of gecko poop here.

After I have pulled myself towards myself I re-enter the chaos. If you ever get lost in our house you will not starve as there is food everywhere – in the couches, behind furniture, in beds. Nobody puts baby in the corner but the same does not go for apples. #knaagdiere.

Also this, how hard can it be, really?? The phenomena that’s been driving moms to drink for centuries.

Thursday. Another daily occurrence while we’re getting ready for work. One of these days Bailey WILL cut him.

Thursday late. Everyone is feeling that manic end-of-year scramble before the collapse. Why is the festive season so very stressful? I get home and attempt to send a few work mails from my phone while sitting in my car and before I engage with my offspring, but they see me and they bang on the window like tiny bundles of guilt against my subconscious.

I made this promise the night before. “Of course you can do my hair for work tomorrow! That’ll be just amazing.” I thought she would forget. Toddlers never forget. They’re like elephants. I had 5 minutes left to get myself ready for work and had to sit through 10 minutes of this. It was kind of relaxing and also extremely frustrating. Have to teach them to keep promises and bla bla. This is what my hair looked like at work that day.

Saturday. Weekend after the year end function the night before. How wonderful that I’m working today. Working with people who wear shirts that echo the dark side of my brain. I bumped into this guy at the vending machine. Poor husband is left to watch kids.

Sunday: wake up to this and the what the actual??! continues. Every day is a what the actual (insert swear word of choice here) day for parents. Some days it is what the actual ACTUAL have I gotten myself into, but most days it’s “what the actual – how cute!” Or, “what the actual? They still love me unconditionally even though I shout like a banshee and work too much and don’t feed them healthy food”.

Horseplay just went up by 90%. Why we buy toilet paper in bulk. Boy child loves chewing it almost as much as he loves chewing my books.

The night before the week after; watching Shameless at 2am because the baby’s very narrow designer nasal passages are blocked and he can’t breathe. Bleeding through my eyes the next day at work.

When I finally stumble to bed, a half-eaten kind of soggy marshmallow (pink) waits for me.

The week after; baby daddy working late and they must sleep where they fall. This is life with kids. Condoms prevent mini-vans but they also stand in the way of testing yourself to the very limits of your personality and experiencing the greatest joy imaginable.

Published by karenjackson2013

One husband, three kids, four pets plus fish. And monkeys. In Durban always the monkeys... I wish people would be more honest about their parenthood journey - others need the support and they are scared to ask for it when everyone else seem so perfect. I love this journey, I learn from this journey. View all posts by karenjackson2013