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I’d like to be a dad for the day.

Today is one of those fucking arsehole days, I’ve had a gutful. If this was a paid job. I’d leave…

I literally envy all husbands (especially mine) that get to close the door and go to work. When he leaves, I’m up at the window, like a goldfish in a bowl. Praying that we could swap places and that I could escape.

Now this isn’t me knocking men. This isn’t me saying I don’t appreciate him and he doesn’t work hard. He is my hero. He works harder than anybody I know to support us and is the definition of a real man!

But from where I stand he’s definitely got the better end of the deal in this whole parenting/family thing. And I’m almost certain he would agree with me on that.

I envy him so damn much, actually… I’m jealous of him.

He wakes up in the morning with all body parts to himself. He walks down the stairs and has a long toilet break, does his teeth and brushes his gorgeous silver hair. Makes himself and the biggest small some toast and milk and places his bottom firmly on the sofa. He then takes an uninterrupted shower… Because no one really cares when daddy showers. Once he’s fresh about 20 minutes later (not that I count or anything) he comes back and sits on the sofa, plays a game on his phone.. Again neither children are overly fussed that he’s doing something for himself. He might put on a load of washing.. He might not. A couple of hours pass then maybe he makes himself some lunch, once made he then proceeds to eat said lunch uninterrupted, using both hands. He then puts on his uniform, drinks a cup of tea. Then heads off out to work. Works his arse off doing his thing (which he’s amazing at btw). Returns home from his shift to a nice cooked dinner sitting in the microwave, two children usually sound asleep and a clean house. Once he’s wound down abit, he goes to bed and falls asleep. Always gets atleast 7 solid hours unbroken sleep and wakes up in the morning.. Ofcourse just as tired as he was when he went to bed and does the same thing again.

Now whether it’s just me, which I’m sure it isn’t speaking to alot of mothers, my day is slightly different and goes something like this.

I wake up, with one boob in the babies mouth the other hanging in a really strange, unflattering angle. I’ve been stuck in the same position all night and have lost all feeling in one arm. I carry baby down the stairs, change babies nappy and get them dressed. I shovel in cereal like a starving animal, only to be greated by the biggest small with her hands in your bowl. Even though she has her own perfectly edible toast. Once cereal is half ingested (the other half still in my mouth) I brave the trip to the toilet, obviously not alone… Mummy must have company when having a wee. On goes the first of many loads of washing to be done today, maybe I’ll have time to hoover but maybe I’ll have to stop and feed the fussy baby that isn’t sure quite what she wants, but daddy is certain… She definitely wants mummy! Perhaps about 10am I’ll decide that I smell like death and should take a shower. Cue; the toddlers mental breakdown. Mummy can’t possibly shower alone, good god no. So I have to share the water with a half pint sized individual, simultaneously wash my hair whilst brushes my teeth.. The small then refuses to remove herself from said shower. When we successfully get out, I chase the naked child round with a towel whilst trying to keep my own towel up. Once we are dressed (still abit damp ofcourse) I attempt to smear my face with makeup and maybe brush my hair. Ofcourse this is usually interrupted again by a hungry baby. Lunchtime comes around, my plate becomes an open buffet it seems. We wave daddy off for work and so the fun begins. During the day we have episodes of chorus crying in unison.. What a sight. We start one activity, but that gets boring, so we do something else so on so forth. I attempt to clean up all mess and fail miserably. I End up in a shouty mess over something ridiculous. Because the toddler has spent the majority of the day being a wind up…Next It’s dinner time, which means the fun and frolics of cooking.  Everything is Chopped by my beautiful food processor, all ingredients are then thrown in a pan and left till cooked. Food is usually refused unless it’s processed crap then it’s welcomed with open arms… Cooking = pointless task. Then comes bathtime, making sure that the biggest doesn’t drown the smallest. Once successfully clean and dressed we go upstairs to bed. Once the biggest is asleep. Baby goes in sling I then do the 3000 jobs that I had failed to do during the day, then finally I firmly Park my arse on the sofa and place my boob in babies mouth for 45 minutes or so… 11.30pm comes. Daddy is home and I am done. To sleep I go, ofcourse only for a few hours before I am awoken by a hungry babe…

Do you see why I’d like to be a dad for the day? I definitely do 😂

 

 

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