Some days I wake up full of energy and ready to be a mum. We crack on with arts and crafts, we play games, we go for a walk. Then there are the other days. The “No” days.
Today is a “No” day.
It was doomed to go wrong from the start. Both small humans appeared in our bedroom before 6AM. The boy child took ages to settle the night before, the girl child woke in the night and needed settling, and I had horrible nightmares in the night that stopped me getting good sleep anyway. So getting up before 6 left me feeling less than charitable towards our offspring, to put it mildly.
Then there’s the offspring that hasn’t as of yet sprung. I love being pregnant in so many ways, and don’t get me wrong I am very grateful that this is able to happen for me. HOWEVER. Today I have cramps in my belly, aches in my vagina, my bum hole hurts inexplicably and my nipples are on fire. Full of blooming radiance and glowing loveliness I am most certainly not.
I read these articles a lot about how we shouldn’t say “no” to our children. How we should find ways to make them understand what it is they want and why they can’t have it without at that moment, without just resorting to “no” and they all make sense to me. HOWEVER. Sometimes I just sit there, holding a cold cup of coffee, and saying “No! No! No!” repeatedly. Because I’m a) human b) tired c) cranky and d) live in a mad house ruled by tiny megalomaniacal terrorists.
“No” has been used thick and fast today. “No” was used to the boy child when he decided, half way through getting dressed, that he’d begin protesting about it and punched me in the face. Twice. Hard. “No” was used when the girl child grabbed my boob and squeezed it really hard then stormed off having a tantrum because I told her it hurt and to apologise. “No” was used when the boy child stole the box of Snakes and Ladders from the girl child. “No” was used when the girl child stole the kangaroo’s hat from the boy child.
Today is a “No” day. Both spawn are currently at nursery school and will return to the roost later. I am pregnant so cannot turn to a nice cold bottle of pinot grigio to get me through. I love them so cannot lock them in the garden and throw food at them through the window and keep my fingers crossed they survive the night without a Lord of the Flies situation developing. Therefore I am going to continue using “No” as prolifically as I deem appropriate, which will be VERY, and count down the seconds until bedtime. I am going to hope the boy child is tired enough to fall asleep promptly and the girl child is tired enough to stay asleep until morning. I am going to rely heavily on the parenting assistance of the fella when he returns from work and I am going to pretend I care about whether Liverpool win at the football tonight whilst napping quietly at his side with my feet up.
I am going to say “No” whilst nursing my aching body and my tired brain and not give myself too hard a time for it. I am going to let the children entertain themselves without any creative input from me. I am going to rely heavily on CBeebies to babysit and give them a dinner primarily made up of easy frozen food that does not require me to chop, peel, think or care.
Because it is a “No” day. And they are sacred. Or at least they are to the mums who read those articles whilst shouting “No!” over the top of their phones as their little monsters crash around causing chaos.