With Kids. Without Kids.

So at the grand old age of 30-something a lot of my friends have kids… which is truly glorious…. For them. I have a nephew who is one, a bigger diva than me and awesome!

He helps keep me grounded when I think I am hilarious.

He helps keep me grounded when I think I am hilarious.

However I am slowly but surely realising that bambinos no matter how adorable they may look… can actually be a pain in the hole! Many times I have heard mothers and fathers protesting after their son/daughter have just had the biggest tantrum (for no reason except it's a Tuesday and fuck you), “oh don’t mind them… they’re just tired.” Yeah well I’m tired too and I don’t throw myself across the kitchen floor and act like a complete dick!

But I digress.

Parents… I get it’s super hard work. I admire your strength and ability to keep your shit together when others (me) would spectacularly fail. But I also can and will be found most days secretly delighted that my days are not taken over by an attention seeking small person. And with that… this is how I see a typical Sunday morning for people with kids and me myself and I!

With Kids

6am – Your child is bawling so hard you definitely will be issued an ASBO this time. You pick them up and feel their nappy. It’s heavy and full of shit. Also pretty sure you just got some on your little finger.

Me

6am – I am asleep. 

With Kids

6.30am – You change the nappy and secretly hope that with a clean ass your child will fall asleep again. Negative. They now want you to sing their favourite nursery rhyme. You clear your throat and begin only to be shut down by frantic hand movements and whiny screams because you’re singing the wrong song. That was their fave song yesterday. (OMG do you even know your child at all?!) Today you have to guess what their new favourite is.

Me

6.30am – I’m still sleeping.

With Kids

7am – You decide to distract your kid from hating you and everything you stand for by making breakfast. They don’t want Coco Pops today and insist on a ‘Meemoo’. You have no fucking clue what a meemoo is but your darling offspring continues to shout “Meemoo” as they smash the bowl of Coco Pops onto the floor.

Me

7am – I startle myself with my own snoring and nearly wake up… Nearly… But not quite. I am still blissfully asleep.

With Kids

8am – You’ve now watched back to back ‘In The Night Garden’ and feel like you’re on LSD. Even the sight of Peppa Pig's stupid Picasso styled face offends you right now! You try to change the channel but your kid threatens you by wildly waving a felt tip pen near your new upholstered sofa.

Me

8am – I carelessly roll over onto a wet drool spot on my pillow. I flip the pillow over and go back to sleep.

With Kids

8.30am – You panic because you’ve come back from the toilet and lost your child. You hear a muffled noise in the kitchen. Your kid has climbed into the cupboard and has now systematically emptied the spice rack. There’s mixed herbs and cinnamon sticks every-fucking-where.

Me

8.30am – I really need the toilet but can’t be arsed to move. I roll over and fall asleep because my bladder is not the boss of me.

With Kids

9am – You walk up the stairs and almost die by stepping on a toy ambulance that lights up AND plays a high-pitched siren reminiscent of a satanic metal band. Your child thinks it’s hilarious and screams “Again Again!” You blink back the tears as you physically feel a part of your soul dying.

Me

9am – I am asleep.

 

My Year?

See Ya Later Friend