Mostly, it was an ok day.
The euwww didn’t really start till evening. You would think it would have started with the toddler’s morning poo, but that was, well, normal and not terrily euwwy at all. I guess that’s all relative, however, and some would find that concept in and of itself disgustingly euwwy and vomit inducing. Me, meh. As I said, all relative, 12 years ago, yes, I would have run away in a gagging, retching hysteria. Thankfully, my kids have killed that part of me.
And induced euwwiness in other ways.
Sure, it rained again, all day; that’s day three now, and it was a bit icky dealing with the washing on the line. Being slapped in the face with a sopping wet, King single fitted sheet when you least expect it can evoke feelings of bleaurgh. Also, discomfort. And annoyance.
We even managed to make it through a movie and I shared a popcorn and small lemon squash with the ten year old and didn’t die or have any need to feel sick.
Then we got home, where I was grabbed from behind, drawn into and smothered by a fitted mattress protector whilst Monkey Boy did his standard sloppy job of feeding the cats.
The clothes line full, and clothing bits almost, almost but not quite dry due to a high wind we’d had moments earlier, I decided to transfer some needed items to the “horse racks” – usually referred to by normal people as “clothes horses” or “drying racks” – and narrowly avoided stepping in the a blob of tinned cat food resting between the two old, decrepit and fally apart racks we own.
I spewed forth a random rant pertaining to carefulness of distributing cat food, where an appropriate place to feed them might be, and my express desire for a decent rack that will hold more than 3 pairs of kids underpants and a sock. Also, that both the feeding of cats and purchase of horse racks was something I was fairly sure I’d had frequent rants about previously. Just ask the neighbours.
Narrowly avoiding a situation that would cause me to run away gagging and retching hysterically, I artfully maneouvered my way between all the wet clothes, the cat food bowls and cat food spillage, and miraculously prevented the clean, but sopping clothing from falling into cat food bowls, as the horse racks are prone to collapsing when you move them. Or think about moving them. Or breath within a distance of 10 metres of them.
I was not, however, skillful enough to prevent Chippie from working his way past his father and out to me, naked but for a nappy, holding his pyjamas (Chippie, not his father) and stepping into the blob of cat food. Causing him to “euwww”, cry, wipe it off with his hand, fall onto the ground and drop his pyjamas into the blod.
See afore mentioned screaming rant of only moments earlier, interspersed with random gagging and retching action. Also, a dose of added annoyance as now had more clothes to watch and has anyone see the fucking clothes line lately?! Sheesh.
Tend to vomit-inducing, cat food smelling toddler and pyjamas. Grumpy was feigning pissed offedness at me for complaining about horse racks, but I think he was actually laughing.
That done, it was time to prepare the evening meal, which was to be roasted (or baked, I can never work out he difference) pumpking and chicken risotto, without the pumpkin, as we have none. This should be acceptable to Godzilla, who “doesn’t like pumpkin”. Technically, he “doesn’t like this dinner not eating it” before he sits down to eat it, leaving the pumpkin. A mere technicality.
Apparently, it too was “euww” as the “rice isn’t cooked enough” and “I don’t like pumpkin”. *sigh*
Bath, bedtime, much yelling about getting into bed, and finally, I am devoid of children. I set about my evening duties, the most important of which is the preparing of the coffee machine so that it fulfills my one and only wish each morning; a decent MUG of coffee to get me started.
Oh, and to have my large drink of water before bed. Coffee machine done and I pick the closest of three identical looking cups beside me, one of which I have just filled.
For those who are ignorant, Dummy Water is the water left over from when we “sterilise” the dummies (yes, the fuckers are still hanging around, more about that later) – a large cup the dummies go into, topped with boiling water, which we remember to do when we a) find the dummy that has been under the couch for who knows how long, b) pry the dummy from the toddlers food encrusted face and attempt to give it a sense of “wash”, c) remove the dummy from the dusty, crumby place it has been stashed to prevent the toddler from seeing it.
Thus, the water has been infused with toddler saliva (copious amounts), crumbs, dust, all manner of food particles, dirt, snails, and, quite possibly, cat food.
In short “EUWWWWWWWW”
I still have the taste in my mouth.