Feeling lucid.

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You know how you’re meant to take in the world and share wonder with your kids? I tried that last Tuesday when I saw a large silver car with three doors on each side drive by. Feeling all parenty I turned my boys’ (who love their toy car collection) buggy to the road, bent down to be on their eye level (I was doing it all right. I was unstoppable.) and said “Look, that is a bit like your party cars”.   They agreed and we watched with interest as the car pulled up onto a funeral company’s drive. A funeral company’s drive. ‘Party car.’ The cringe was physical. I scuttled off hoping nobody heard/saw me.

My day to day social affliction continued into the Wednesday when I went to the doctors’ and alerted reception to their lift being broken. I felt vindicated when the helpful lady rolled her eyes at them only having been out to fix it the day before. Vindicated until it became apparent it was “not moving” because I was pressing the number of the floor that we were already on.

But it is okay as today I have been feeling lucid. I have to admit my feeling lucid has made me uneasy in equal measure. After all I felt all lucid and at one with parenting last Tuesday. I felt all useful and lucid while reporting the ‘broken’ lift.

Turns out I was right to feel uneasy; tonight we had a knock on our door just after tea from a neighbour carrying a balloon in a box. How nice? “Happy Birthday Grandad!” I will spare you the details of what I thought was (at least in part) an unrelated trail of paypal, postage and online order confusion. Suffice to say the company had tried to deliver the balloon I ordered for my father-in-law’s birthday (they’d even tried to pick it back up) and I had got the address right. Mostly. If you ever wondered, postcodes matter. I used our postcode so it went down the road. To rub salt in my wounds my two year old completely melted down as there was only one balloon and one box.

So can I ever trust my brain while the kids are small? Can I even blame this on having small kids? I have previous but I am sure it was never so thick, so fast and so bad. It feels related to the sleep deprivation and the busy brain that goes with juggling children, work and life in general. But maybe I’m kidding myself….

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I got lucky

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I wasn’t sure why everyone was smiling so much at M as I pushed him around the supermarket. Obviously I think he is cute but people seemed instantly taken with him.

I wondered if I was getting sympathy smiles as I was really working the bedraggled look, having thrown a mac over an already brave outfit choice.  It was one of those ‘get out and get him to sleep now before he meltdowns’ rush exits.

As it turns out I had forgotten I’d handed him a potato in the veg aisle and he was still holding/cuddling/being strangely fascinated by it.  Like he had never come so close to a vegetable before. This lasted for nearly the whole shopping trip (before the potato came to sad end but I’ll gloss over that).

Since having kids I have often thought how different you and your life must look over the course of any given day, all because toddlers swing so easily and readily from highs to lows. Sometimes my day seems to be in tatters moments after we’ve all been walking on sunshine and vice versa.

Today I got lucky and I treated myself – I walked like a woman who had it all sorted, who knew when to give her son a potato to keep him happy.  Who had positive parenting down to a fine art.  I was down with the kids.  I didn’t pay him to get in the buggy ten minutes ago.  And it certainly wasn’t me who only yesterday had a very similar looking child climb out of a very similar coloured buggy, covered in snot and scream “put my bogies back on” as I wiped his nose.

So today I got lucky.  And the next time I feel a bit crappy looking at a serene family scene (while mine shout “I want to bite all grown ups” or something similar) I’ll try not to feel too jealous/inadequate.  Afterall, who knows what was happening ten minutes ago.