The Teaching Mum

A light-hearted look at parenting through the eyes of a very busy English Teacher.

A birthday, a bunch of flowers and bed socks?

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It’s the 3rd January 2016 and it is my birthday.  The morning started with a bang literally when I was woken at 2.11am by the little Dude falling out of bed.  I was ripped out of fraught sleep by a giant thud and a scream. Scooping my boy into my arms, I checked him, soothed him and he fell back to sleep cuddling in next to me.  Twenty minutes later, two tiny feet kicked me solidly in the sternum and we were awake, but you’ll be pleased to know that this is not another post about lack of sleep!

After being kicked relentlessly and yet afraid to let him go, my son and I snoozed, woke, snoozed, woke until we succumbed and got up at 7am. Last night, the Othet Half promised me a lie in and said he would get up with the children; I was giddy with excitement – although the dark circles under my eyes and the Pat Sharpe circa 1992 bed head did not give my giddiness away.

“Are you going to get up with Daddy and come down stairs?” He asked the Princess.

She peeled her eyes away from the iPhone for a brief moment.

“No,”

The giddiness subsided and I was faced with the harsh reality that this lie in would not be happening today.  I was up, in my famous purple fluffy dressing gown and I was going downstairs with the Dude in my arms.  Dark Sunday mornings are not for arguing with the Girl.

As I switched on the lights, I was greeted with this lovely sight.

However, the Dude was heaving over by the desk, so nappy duty it was.

“Stop looking at your presents Mum and use these Huggies on my morning poo!”

We had a ‘breacher’.

“It’s a two man job!” I shouted.

And like a knight in grey jogging bottoms and a grey hoodie, the Other Half swooped in, grabbed the dirty nappy and stopped the Dude from flipping feaces all over the living room. My hero.

“Present time!”

Yes!

“Don’t get too excited.”

Oh.

My girl raced over to the table where two presents were standing next to the lovely purple flowers that were not from Tesco.  She grabbed the first present and started to rip it open.

“We’ve got you some chocolates, Mummy,” she said while she was mid-unwrap.

“Did you not un-wrap enough presents at Christmas?” I asked.

“No.”  It was a ‘no’ kind of morning then.

I grabbed the second present before she could put the huge box of Dairy Box down. (They would be devoured later.)

“They’re socks.  I picked them,” she said proudly.

I opened them and burst out laughing.

It’s 11pm as i write this in bed and I am wearing a pair!


“Because you’re always nicking mine!” The Other Half said.

‘Tis true, I am.  But still.  I laughed.  Over night I had turned from a being a woman in her early thirties to a woman who sleeps in bed socks.  And I have to admit, since returning home from the restaurant and as I type this now, I am wearing the purple spotty socks and my feet are indeed ‘toastie’!

At 12.30pm we were going to eat at a local restaurant.  My Mum arrived at 12 and I was still in my dressing gown, the Other Half was in the shower, the Dude was asleep and the Girl was at her other grandparents.  Clearly we were all set to go…

Before Mum arrived, we had spoken on the phone.

“I have to warn you, you may think your present is a little too young for you,” she said.

That sounded ominous.  What was it going to be?  The Cabbage Patch Kid I had so longed for as a child?  The cropped top I keep revisiting on ASOS and wondering if I can pull it off or a skirt that is just a little two short for a woman in her now mid-thirties?

“Well, I have just opened a pair of bed socks, so perhaps your present will even things out.”

So at 12 midday, we sat and I opened my present.

A skull pendant, a multi-pack of Huggies and my purple dressing gown. What more could you want from a picture?

I actually really liked the pendant, but wasn’t sure if I was too old for it.  Can a thirty-five year old mother of two pull off a silver skull?  The Meatloaf singing rock chick that’s buried deep inside me thinks so.  Off the dressing gown came and on the pendant went (with clothes, I might add.  Or that would be just weird.) 

We picked up the Girl on route to the restaurant and with the rain beating down, we raced in and shown to our table.  Now I appreciate that eating out with small children is not something that usually runs smoothly. As we sat down, my Girl was suitably settled with her ‘Hi-Pad’ and was playing an (ahem) educational game called Plants Vs Zombies.  

“Cheers! Don’t move the hi-pad, don’t move the hi-pad. Don’t YOU dare move the Hi-Pad'”

 
The Dude was strapped into his high chair and lasted a record three minutes and twenty seven seconds before he magically climbed out of the chair and into his Daddy’s arms.  He stayed still for at least another two and a half minutes before he started trying to escape from his Daddy’s clutches.  The Peronis arrived.  Good.  We were going to need them.

“Let him roam,” I suggested.

And we did.

Almost tripping up our waitress, the Ninja Flippin’ Dude crawled towards the bar.  At almost one year old, he successfully completed his first bar crawl. Ah, a proud Mum moment.

With the Dude, propping up the bar, we ordered our food. Now on my birthday last year, I was very heavily pregnant and was unable to eat a lot of things on the menu.  Today, however, I spotted the goat’s cheese and ordered it instantly. I barely chewed it as I ate it that fast.  Heaven.

My boy has recently broken his fish fingers and peas virginity so we ordered both him and my girl ‘fish goujons’ and hoped that they didn’t realise that they weren’t from Captain Birdseye.  As expected, the Other Half ate most of the goujons and the peas made a splendid pattern on the carpet.  

A couple of hours passed and after three courses, we had to be rolled out to the car.  Once home, we waved goodbye to my Mum and settled down to watch a film.

I couldn’t keep my eyes open.  The boy was getting fussy.  Then, from nowhere, the Other Half spoke some words I haven’t heard in over four years.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap?”

He DID NOT have to ask twice.  Scooping the Dude into my arms, we both went upstairs and went to bed.  Cuddling my little man in my arms once again, I smiled and couldn’t help but think how this was a perfect end to a perfect day.  Why you ask?  Because I was warm and cosy in bed and wearing an awesome pair of purple bed socks.  

 

Fruit shoot in shot? Check. Nappy bag in shot? Check. Nap Time!!

 
For a sleep deprived thirty-five year old mother of two, who is ALWAYS cold.  This.  Was.  Bliss.

And.

We.

Slept. 

(For an hour and a half.)

Happy Birthday to Me! Pack of Huggies just in sight…

NB – This post is not sponsored by Huggies.  We just have a pack in every room of the house.   

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5 thoughts on “A birthday, a bunch of flowers and bed socks?

  1. I am so glad you had a lovely birthday. I am a 31 year old teacher and mum and I would have loved all your presents!!
    I love your blog and your writing is so fluid I sometimes feel you are writing a novel ☺️
    This is the first time I have ever commented on anything online, ever. But after following your blog I just had to wish you happy birthday!! 🎉🍾

    Liked by 1 person

    • Ah, thank you! What a lovely comment. If only I had the time to write a novel – that’s the dream!!
      It was a nice birthday especially for a rubbish time of year. My son turns one tomorrow, bless him. So he has a bit of a rubbish birth date too!
      Thank you again for such a heartwarming comment. X

      Like

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