Thou shalt not judge my parenting on Mondays

Nix turns two in 2 months and he’s all about the tantrums.  All.  The.  Time.

I can deal with this just fine, however, a grande mal paddy sometimes causes a bit of a time crunch when you are trying to leave the house by 9.30am.  God that sounded like eons of time once in my life – getting on your way and in the car by 9.30?  pfffftttt, nothing to it.  Now I’m on struggle street with such an ‘early’ departure, I hate it.

Anyway, swimming at 10am + a multiple paddy morning = frazzled mama.  I realized about halfway to the class that I had failed to pack Nix any swimming togs.  I had a disposable swim nappy so that would have to suffice.  But the LOOKS!  I was officially deemed ‘that’ mother in the eyes of my peers, the instructor was quite horrified  and every time I launched Nix out of the pool with gay abandon all eyes followed his nappy clothed, swimming trunk-less bottom as if at any time it was going to blow!

We survived the lesson and in the creepy silence of the changing room where no-one talks to each other, the Mum next to me began cursing under her breath.  My swimming togs faux pas was trumped by a forgotten bra!  My worst nightmare.  It was obviously Monday-itis all round.

We emerged from our joyous time in the chlorine and headed to the mall to pick up a few things.  Much like taking Nixon to a restaurant, taking him shopping is also an exercise in speed, distraction and mostly just speed.  He hates being confined to his stroller with a passion.  A very loud and vocal passion.  When I saw there was no line at my $10 eyebrow waxing joint I made an executive decision – we were going in, stroller and all.  I handed Nix my phone {breaking parenting rule #71 right?}, found him some videos of himself to watch and told the beautician it was Go Time – we had a ticking time bomb on our hands.  She was totally the mistress of speedy wax jobs and I headed on my way, ready to brave the mall, with the addition of bright red waxing marks on my face. Such a babe.  

It was then a caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and learnt a hard lesson; my trackies may be from Country Rd, but this does not make them fit for wearing in public.  One word, pajamas.  

So I was feeling really pumped up as we hit Kmart (not) and there were signs that Nixon was rapidly descending into shit-losing-mode.  I found The Wiggles on Spotify and pumped it up to full volume and handed him my phone again, I know I know!  I skipped the ‘trendy’ homewares section and powered through to the boys clothes department.  Nix needed some winter play clothes so I wasn’t leaving until I had them.  

By the time we left the shoes, it was all over.  Back arched, screams at mega-decibel level, I ran to the check-out only stopping to demonstrate my next display of uber parenting – I grabbed a Kit Kat and a juice bottle and said ‘have at it kiddo’ {Breaking parenting rule #3 I’m pretty sure}.  I had bought myself enough time to pay for the clothes, and power my way through another store to pick up Mum’s Mother’s Day gift.

So yeah.  Monday.  As I said to the bra-less mother at swimming, “it can only get better from here right?”.

 

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