The very hangry Mummy

June 8, 2012 in Life

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Hangry

by mybeardedpigeon

This guest post is from Jo Furniss, who blogs over at Glückspilz.

Before I had kids and discovered that motherhood is like being permanently on Candid Camera, I honestly thought that bedtimes would be lovely. A lovely, delightful part of the day, when we would sit in a lovely pile on the bed, delightfully breathing our own fug, and read lovely books about delightful woodland creatures. Well…

…what the Donald Duck did I know about anything back then, eh? Bedtime is not lovely: it is sent to try us.

Tonight, 7pm

Goodbye Sun, hello Moon, warbles the TV and I perk up: oh good, it’s nearly wine o’clock.

“Come on you two, let’s get ready for bed and have a story”, is what I think I have said, but apprently my mouth has translated it to, “Come on you two, can you start a fight with each other and then pull down the curtains while trying to hide from me?”.

7.15pm

The curtains are rehung. The kids are in the bathroom, eating toothpaste and whooping like it’s Lord of the Flies. Irritation starts in my stomach: oh no, I’m getting hangry. Just a few more minutes and I’ll make myself a bowl of pasta with smoked salmon. Lovely.

7.30pm

Man on the Moon

Tiddler

Man on the Moon

Tiddler

Man on the Moon

Tiddler

“OK, if you two can’t agree on a book, we’ll read Man on the Moon and then Tiddler”. It seems like the quickest option.

Tiddler, then Man on the Moon

Man on the Moon, then Tiddler

Tiddler, then Man on the Moon

Man on the Moon, then Tiddler

Oh for heaven’s sake.

Increasingly hangry: the pasta will take too long, I’ll just have the smoked salmon on some bread with a poached egg on top.

7.45pm

I need a pee-poo.

OK, Curly Girlie – you go to the toilet.

I need a pee-pee-potty.

Alpha Blondie, you have a nappy on so you can go to bed.

PEEE-PEEEE-POTTEEEEE!

OK, fine, of course you can use the potty, let’s go and take your nappy off.

Hangrier and hangrier. Forget the egg: smoked salmon sandwich.

7.50pm

The boy has head on pillow, Froggie in the crook of his arm, cover actually over legs. We are tantalisingly close to sleep (kids) and food (me). The hanger can wait a few more minutes.

Night night, then…

Nun-nait, agrees Alpha Blondie.

“Mummy” announces Curly Girlie from the doorway, brandishing a revolting cat thing that resides at the bottom of the toy chest. “Alphie can’t have this catty, can he?”

My eyes swivel to Alphie. Maybe he won’t rise to the challenge.

“Jump in bed Curly, I’ll be there in just a mo to say goodnight”.

Even louder, “But he can’t have catty can he, this is my catty?”

Desperately hangry now, I shoo her from the room, but as the door is closing, a tiny voice from under the cover behind me:

Catty?

My heart and stomach sink.

HE CAN’T HAVE CATTY!

I WAN’ CATTY!

IT’S MY CATTY!

CATTY!

8pm

Beans on toast.

This post first appeared on Glückspilz on March 28, 2012.