With a toddler. With my very optimistic husband. And two other optimistic friends.
I felt like the odd one out. I was the annoying, panicky, troublesome, stressed out, OCD mom.
Wet tissues, please.
Why is there a rash on her cheeks?
It's time to change her nappy. She's worn it long enough.
Let me wipe her chair with a Dettol wipe.
Oh dear, the floor is so dusty!
Oh no, her feet are so dusty. Now our bed is dusty.
I need to soak her potty with that dish-washing liquid.
Don't feed her chips!
Don't feed her chicken nuggets!
And so on. I could have said more, but I held my tongue whenever I could.
It turned out that Sophie was exceptionally well-behaved this round - especially during the 4 hours long drives to and fro. She slept when she was supposed to sleep, drank milk, and spent long periods of time (up to 2 hours) staring quietly out of the window, while fingering the corners of her favourite pillow. She would occasionally call for "dada" or "mama" in order to let us know that she was still awake and thinking of us. Our friends were impressed. So angelic, they said.
So unlike the mom.
I am so knackered. Yet, here I am, munching muesli and blogging in the middle of the night like there's no tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment