Days 43, 44, and 45

Yesterday morning was the sort of morning that you would talk about and people would say “Ohhh, you couldn’t make that up”. No, you could not. And why would you, because it was horrific.

Mondays are soft play day. Now that we have entered the magic phase, this is quite a pleasurable activity for all involved, so there was no reason to assume that this day would be any different. Things started to go a teeny weeny bit downhill when we arrived and they couldn’t get my bank card to work in their machine. I decided that the only way to save face about this was to check my balance in front of all of the people and loudly tell them, to the penny, what was in my account. This did not matter though; as soft play people don’t let you in just because you show them you could afford to pay…they want you to actually pay. It’s all ok, I thought, there is a supermarket with a cash point nearby. I will act in the manner of a grown up and resourceful person and withdraw some actual cash, then come back and throw it at the soft play lady and everything will be fine.

I then tried to explain this plan to the babies. The girl baby took it pretty well but the boy one…did not.

Me (shrill and overly cheerful voice) “Come on loves, Mummy needs to go and get some pennies because my silly old card won’t work (Very loudly) EVEN THOUGH THERE IS JUST LOADS AND LOADS OF LOVELY MONEY IN THERE.”

Boy Baby “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. SOFT PLAAAAAAAYYYY.”

Me “Of course we are going to come back to soft play boy baby, but the lady won’t let us in without any pennies. EVEN THOUGH THERE IS OBVIOUSLY LOADS IN MY BANK ACCOUNT.”

Boy Baby “Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. SOFT PLAAAAAAAYYYY.”

Me (Realisation dawns that the boy baby is neither able nor willing to accept any explanation as to why we have come into soft play, and left seconds later. Will have to perform a physical retreat.) “Come on boy baby, everything will be lovely” (Pick up screaming 3 year old, gesture to 4 year old to follow and decided she is absolutely my most favourite baby)

The boy babies’ screaming protests continued all of the way to the supermarket, despite the number of times and ways I tried to explain what was happening and that we would be going back to sodding soft sodding play. Finally arrived at lovely lovely supermarket and I decided that the day was about to become ace as there was a mother and baby parking space next to the actual cash machine. This is the parenting equivalent of smoking crack. Huzzahhh.

Even though I can still hear the boy baby through the closed car doors, I feel a sense of calm wash over me because I am about to make all of this better. Except I am not, because even though the cash machine can read my card and tell me my balance which I already knew to the penny…it will not give me any actual money. What the actual hell am I going to do?

It’s all ok though, because I have ace friends, who after a super quick phone call tell me that of course they will pay for us to join them at soft play, they will even stretch to a coffee and watch the babies whilst I sob/ring the bank and call them all massive knobs. I love friends.

I tell the babies we are heading back to soft play, but as I am brilliant at managing my expectations, I am not surprised when the boy baby does not listen but does a little bit more screaming instead. Everything is all ok because soon we will be at soft play, and everyone will be happy again and I will be drinking coffee.

This all plans out fairly well for approximately 8 seconds, until I hear my name screeched from the top of the very highest slide. It is the girl baby. And she has wet herself. And she is devastated. I do not claim to be in any way agile, fit or sprightly. But I climbed my big massive bum off. Twisted my body into un-body like shapes, to get to my girl who was sad. I could feel a big cry coming on. I was feeling a teeny went bit fed up of the day already, and now the boy baby was crying as I wasn’t in his immediate line of vision at all times.

The girl baby is crying and wet. The boy baby is crying. All of the parents are looking around curiously to find the mother of all of the crying children who is currently half stuck in a hole, crying herself.

When I reach the girl baby I decide it is unwise to take the quickest route down, which is down the slide. This is because she is all covered in wee. So we both head back the way we came (which FYI is much more difficult than climbing up). Finally we are down and I have cuddled her and told her over and over that it doesn’t matter and that she is ace and that she is my bestest friend. I think the end is in sight as we head off to the toilets to clean her up with the boy baby, finally reunited with me after all of that time…..closely following.

Granted I have only bought a spare outfit for the boy baby, because the girl one never needs it these days. But there are worse things than her having to wear some slightly too small boy leggings for a couple of hours. For example, I don’t know, having absolutely nothing to wear because the boy baby chooses that exact moment to do a big massive wee in his own clothes for funsies. I am literally out of all of the ideas and my actual soul is dead, but once again my super friend appears at the door with her babies’ spare leggings and socks. This is because mum friends are amazing.

Off we went back to enjoy our ruddy time at soft play, and for the most part, the babies did. But it was too late for me. It was all I could do to hold back tears and my lovely mum friends so wonderfully ignoring it made me want to fall to pieces and lie down on their lovely Mummy laps.

When we finally left, and the babies were in their seats and their CD was on the radio, I cried and I cried and I cried.

I cried because the bank wouldn’t give me any of my own money, I cried because I thought everyone was looking at me wondering why I had no money to take my babies to soft play, I cried because I have emotionally traumatised my babies by taking them in and then out of soft play. And then in again. I cried because I looked incompetent in front of all of the people. I cried because I looked ridiculous climbing the soft play. I cried because my heart hurt for my girl baby who had wet herself. I cried because I am worried she is poorly. I cried because I had to leave the boy baby to help her, and I cried because I shouted when he wet himself after I had just asked him if he needed the toilet. I cried with guilt, worry and regret. I cried because I didn’t take enough spare clothes and I was just downright failing at all of life. I cried because I had to ask for help. I cried because I felt so, so sad.

When I started writing my blog, I wanted to be completely honest about all of the things. Or else, what was the point. But I suppose I started writing it when I was in a healthier place and did not truly consider having to be honest about how I felt when I wasn’t. But here we are, and I’m going to carry on being honest because I’m trying really hard to remember that I’m not alone in any of this.

I am furious that I am feeling poorly again. Completely and utterly furious, and also really frightened. This is because I am doing all of the things that I can to stay well, and if I can still feel poorly despite all of this then it feels there is nothing else to do but accept it.

I feel pathetic and tiresome and like I am a burden to everyone who loves me. And I am not saying any of this for them to disagree or because they have ever been anything but wonderful. I am saying it because it is true and maybe someone else can relate and know that they aren’t alone in feeling that way either. Depression is absolutely a big massive knob.

However. I know that I will feel better again. Even if I don’t feel it right now or know how it will happen. I also know that the very fact I am writing this means that something is different because when I have been poorly before I would not have had this in me. I am proud. I am proud that I have not yet had a lovely drink. I am proud that I am still doing that stupid vapey thing and not smoking. I am proud that sometimes, I ask for help.

I know that I put a huge amount of pressure on myself to be a good Mum. This is all that I want to be in all of the world. And ironically (ruddy irony) it is that that probably makes me question my ability and capacity to do absolutely anything at all well. I have created an expectation of myself that is not only completely unrealistic but also pretty damaging.

My well self, knows that when I am well, nothing is really any different at all. Mornings like yesterday would still happen (You actually couldn’t make it up), and I am not saying that I wouldn’t be a teeny weeny bit stressed because, well come on. But I would probably cry less. I would probably talk to my lovely mum friends, and I wouldn’t feel physically paralysed by all of the awful feelings inside of me. Depression doesn’t necessarily change anything. But it absolutely changes how you feel about it.

I don’t want to be a big whingy boo hoo, because that’s actually not at all who I am. But in the interest of honesty I thought I’d be honest about where I am right this moment.

I’m still taking all of the lovely drugs and if things don’t improve I will go back to my doctor and sob at him again. He likes it when I do this. I am telling my mum, my friends, HH that I am struggling. I hate to admit that, but I have hidden it before and it all went really really wrong. I am prioritising the most important things and I am doing the best that I can do with others. And this afternoon I have an appointment with my best friend the therapist which I am super excited about.

Everything is going to be ok.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Absolutely all of the lovely people that read my ramblings

2 – Friends who buy me coffee

3 – Trainers

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.


Day 42

It is very typical that when it is my turn to take the boy baby to football, it is completely freezing. It has taken all of the day for my legs to warm up again and they still feel a bit odd now. I absolutely love watching him at football because he is super cute and as he is still my tiny little baby, he likes me to stay close by so he can run up for a cuddle now and again. This makes my heart explode in to a hundred million pieces and think silly thoughts about having more babies. He hasn’t quite grasped the concept of actual football yet but I can tell that will totally come soon and he will absolutely stop picking up the ball and running across all of the pitches with it.

Urghhh. Sometimes I feel like I am always the big goblin bad guy Mummy though. This is because I tend to be the one that suggests that everyone calm the hell down and stops playing sharks just before bedtime. I feel I am constantly saying things like, “One more minute” whilst no one listens and mostly that is absolutely fine. But sometimes, like today, it can feel a bit like I imagine drowning feels.

What I want to say is that tonight, just for once I would like to not do bedtime. I don’t want to enforce any rules or explain for the millionth time why sleep is super important. I just don’t want too. I don’t have it in me. I want to avoid any activity that will potentially result in me having to be the parent and provide boundaries to keep them safe and happy. Babies do not understand anything that is for their own good. They just think Mummy is mean.

The amazing thing about raising babies with another person is that you share the load. So when one of you really feels at the end of their tether the other takes one for the team and jumps in. Like a relay with the baton and stuff. HH has always been super willing to do that, but if I am honest when the girl baby was born I set a precedent for our family that I was to do all of the things for her. HH was my support guy. I didn’t mean to do this, but with becoming a mother has also come the expectancy of myself that I have to do absolutely everything for the babies. And that I have to do absolutely everything perfectly because they are my babies, and that is what it is to be a mother.

That is not what it is to be a mother. That is what it is to be someone that is a mental person and will at some point lose all of their shit. Enter me. Whilst I do realise now that I have to allow HH the opportunities to share the actual parenting, it is still hard to do this willingly and without tremendous guilt. I am also learning that he does things differently, but that this is not wrong (it is sometimes wrong). The babies need to understand that we both enforce their boundaries and that Mummy and Daddy are a team.

It can be tricky to do all of these things that we should do though, because it can be hard to find any consistency in our routine at the moment as HH is often at work or uni. This is why I am generally the one doing the rubbishy stuff like insisting on baths and encouraging manners, and why HH is the fun one who plays sharks before bed.

I’m still not feeling my usual fabulous self so I know I am over thinking (obsessing about) all of the things more so than usual. When I feel this way everything just feels like a bit of a struggle and I cant process things too well.

What I do know, is that I am so much better at asking for what I need than I used to be. So tonight, HH has taken the babies to bed. And they were totally cool with it which is an actual massive breakthrough. This has meant that I can sit very quietly without telling anyone that they have one more minute to do anything.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – HH having an evening off

2 – HH putting the babies to bed

3 – The babies understanding that Daddy can put them to bed too

4 -Scarves

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.


Day 41

Boy Baby – Mummy can you draw me please?

Me – “What a picture of you? yes of course, I would love to draw you because you are the most handsomest thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life”

Boy Baby (scathingly) – “No. I am paper. draw me.”

Me – “You…you want me to draw ON you. As though you are paper”

Boy Baby -“Yes Mummy, because I am paper draw a picture on me.”

Me – “Boy baby I am not going to draw on you with pens, you had a bath this morning.”

Boy Baby – (rolls eyes) – “Not with pens Mummy, with my dinosaur torch because that is the pen for when I am being paper.”

Me – ………..

Boy Baby – “I will lie down because paper always lies down.”

And that was bed time. The End.

I am still feeling a teeny weeny bit flat today. But I am trying super hard to keep it in perspective and understand that it is normal for this to happen from time to time. I am not very good at keeping any of the things in perspective and this is something my best friend the therapist has to remind me to do most weeks.

What has been nice, is that I have had a lovely day with the babies just bimbling around in town doing some errands and buying cool stuff like balloons and pick and mix. I absolutely love pick and mix, and as I let the babies loose with the tiny little shovel things I felt a bit like how I imagine I will feel if they ever get married. The other reason that we ventured into town was because the girl baby had to go for an eye test. This was what I like to call a “fluke parental win”, as I was of the impression that you only needed to get your eyes tested when you started straining to see words and stuff. But apparently, children should get them checked before they start school. The only reason I found this out was because last time I went to the opticians, she asked me question that I didn’t hear and asked her to repeat twice…and still did not hear. Because I am socially inept, I nodded (she was facing the other way), and changed the subject by saying casually “I wonder if the babies will ever need their eyes tested”….The optician then told me all of the reasons for which they would indeed need to have their eyes tested. I heard all of this.

Anyway, it turns out our lovely girl baby is short sighted. as a side note, I will NEVER understand which way around short and long sighted are in respect of what you can and cant see very well. But for the time being she’s totally rocking seeing stuff. The optician thinks though, that she will need some glasses in a year or two. The girl baby and I are super excited about this because it will be ace finding loads of cool specs for her. I am also pleased because its something I can buy that HH cant tell me off even a little bit for as its totally a medical necessity.

Not drinking any of the lovely drinks has been really tough the last couple of days. Really tough. And I’ve been questioning why I am even doing this because I totally don’t have a drinking problem at all. I just drink too much, to often. Which is kind of a drinking problem.

I’m super proud of myself for sticking with it so far though, as I hate sticking to stuff. And I am really hoping that I see some improvement in how quickly I pull myself out of this teeny weeny low place this time as a result. I really think I will. I know I am already feeling a bit better because I am making a hypothetical birthday list for HH, which I absolutely know he will love.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Pick and Mix

2 – Balloons

3 – Laughing with the babies

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

Day 40

Today has been a bad day. Today I feel a bit like a cloud has blown over me and I cant quite shake it off. This is inconvenient, because I have not felt this way in a while. And what I want is to have a lovely big bottle of wine to make it all go away. I really, really do.

This morning, I shouted at the babies for being babies. And I immediately felt like the absolute worst. I was rushing trying to make sure we didn’t miss the bus to work and nursery and they didn’t really feel like doing any rushing because they were watching peppa pig. I lost my temper, I lost control, and I really shouted. What is ironic, is that the stupid sodding bus didn’t turn up anyway so there was absolutely no need for any rushing or any shouting.

As HH was still at work, our only other option was to get a taxi, the boy baby was devastated as he wanted to get the bus, from the bus stop we had just waited at for 25 minutes in the freezing cold whilst he cried about being cold. Then he cried because we had to go outside to get the actual taxi. I cried because I hated my whole self for shouting at them, especially before nursery, and the girl baby was crying because the boy baby was crying. We were a sorry sight.

We made it to nursery, where both babies cried more as I left them. I managed to make it half way down the corridor before sobbing and bursting out of the door into an unsuspecting parent. Poor chap.

Thankfully, I ran into my lovely friend who bought me some porridge and told me everything would be alright. Being told everything will be alright when you feel everything but alright, is really quite comforting.

The problem was, for some reason today I didn’t have any happy left in me. So instead of writing the morning off as just a bad morning, I felt my head starting to fill and all of my thoughts swirling about in a big swirly complicated mess.

I did know that I would still have days like this, but everything has been going so well I didn’t really believe I would. and the worst thing about it all is that when I feel this way, I don’t trust my own brain. I don’t know how I really feel about anything and this is tricky.

One thing I always believe though, is that a true sorry goes a long way. tonight I said sorry to the babies for shouting this morning. Not because I believe that parents shouldn’t shout at their children from time to time, but because the reason I shouted was that I had lost control. There was no point or purpose. Babies are ace at taking apologies because they are have wonderful souls. When I told them a big massive sorry for shouting, the girl one said “Yes Mummy that was very naughty. I might ask the policeman to tell you off”. In the end they settled for an extra story, and then I got to hold the boy babies hand until he fell asleep.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Wetwipes

2 – Wonderful friends

3 – Kind taxi men who don’t comment on crying passengers

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

Day 39

Today at work we have been talking about fashion. It is at times like this that I remember that I do not know anything about fashion. I also do not really know what sort of clothes I like or what actually suits me. I tend to wear things that fit, and that are comfortable. This is because I am an old lady.

Apparently it is fashionable and grungy to wear fish net tights and stompy boots. When I heard this I felt a bit smug as I have some fishnet stockings in my drawer somewhere from and old fancy dress outfit, so I’m totally cool. Though I am a teeny weeny bit concerned that I last wore them when I was quite a bit thinner. Perhaps if I was to wear them again it would look a bit like this;


I probably will just throw them away actually.

HH is at work tonight so I’m finding my resolve to give up everything I like, a bit tricky. This is partially because the babies have become increasingly fussy when it comes to night-wear. The perfect night-wear combination must be neither too hot, too cold or too middle-ey. It must be long enough but not too long and its pattern or picture must be pre-approved before wearing. This is exhausting, mainly because I consider it a massive win if I can find pyjamas straight from the tumble dryer so that I don’t have to go upstairs more times than I absolutely have too. I actually give myself points for finding outfits from the tumble dryer. The absolute holy grail (rarely achieved) is a full outfit for both babies, including pants and matching socks. If this happens, I know everything is going to be ace. The most common outcome is half an outfit for each baby, or a full hideously unmatching one. Rarely pants, and never matching socks.

Anyway, Pyjamas aside, this evening has actually been ok for a post nursery evening. I even managed a made up story. For those interested, tonight the girl baby and the boy baby, and two of their friends had to go and help a dog find her puppies in Dogland. It all got quite emotional when it seemed there was no hope of them ever being found, but it turned out ok and everyone got a cookie. The End.

I think what I am finding hard tonight is that I have absolutely no one to answer too but myself. I could drink a whole lovely bottle of lovely wine to myself, and smoke lots of lovely cigarettes and eat all of the things and it would be amazing because no one would ever know.

Except I would know. And lately that seems loads more important. I’m not doing any of this stuff for anyone else, Im doing it for me because I am absolutely worth being healthy and being happy.

As a side note, I wish I could be both healthy and happy by doing all of the drinking, smoking and eating. I’d be super happy about that.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1- Tumble dryer outfits

2 – Gherkins

3 – Reflection

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.

Day 37 and 38 (Mainly day 38, some of 37 though.)

I have decided to give up smoking. This is because I am a mental person and I appear to want to ruin my whole entire life over the space of one year.

The thing is, I don’t really like that I smoke anymore and as time has gone on, less and less people I know seem to do it. So it has become another thing that makes me socially awkward. I am not the type of person that needs things to make them socially awkward.

Because I like to be addicted to stuff I have decided that I am not ready to just give up, so I am going to vape instead. I have always thought vaping was a teeny weeny bit knobby. Which is terribly judgemental of me as I have never really tried it, and also it helps trillions of people give up smoking. Which is a totally good thing. So after the advice and generosity of a lovely knowledgeable friend, I am now the proud owner of a vape pen.

It’s actually super exciting because you can buy all sorts of different flavoured vapey stuff, which is right up my street. I am currently using a menthol one which is ace. One of the things that I am very good it, is enjoying the novelty of new things. The problem with this is that novelties have a tendency to wear off so I’m hoping I can keep going with this one. It feels like the right time.

Aside from all of the obvious ones, another reason I have decided to give up smoking is because at the moment, the babies do not know what smoking is. And when they do find out, I’d rather I wasn’t doing it.

HH will be delighted because he absolutely hates smoking. Sometimes, this makes me think little thoughts about why we are even together. But then I remember that opposites attract so it’s just physics really.

I have managed to put on 3 lbs in the last 2 weeks. For goodness sake. But it is ok because I’m very excited about all of the food this week. This is because I did as I was told and made an actual menu plan before doing an online food shop on the actual internet. WHO AM I? It is on an excel spreadsheet. Excel spreadsheets make me feel safe and secure and I would trust them with my life. Not only is all of my slimming world friendly food planned for the week, I have also written down extra little tasks to remind myself to take things out of the freezer, for example. This is because I am a bit rubbish at remembering important things about defrosting meat. But if my excel spreadsheet tells me to do it, I will absolutely do it.

I’m starting to feel really good about not drinking all of the lovely drinks actually. Which I absolutely hate myself for. Everything feels just a bit brighter. And I am happy. Not crazy person happy, but normal happy. contented. HH even cleared his throat earlier and said, “I like us. we are really good”. This is his way of saying he thinks I am a total hero and that he worships me, for sure.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – My soupmaker

2 – Sushi

3 – So many super awesome people in my life

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.


Day 36

A few weeks ago I made the outrageous mistake of making up a story at bedtime for the babies. I was obviously high on all of my lovely drugs. They totally loved it, because I’m ace at stories. But now they ask for “Phoebe and Charlie’s magical adventures” all of the ruddy time.

I have got quite a good imagination, which I think is because I am a mental person so I like to make stuff up. And the babies are fairly easy to please, love them. But I am starting to find it a teeny weeny bit hard to think of new  ideas. Tonights was all about Pirate Pete, who appeared on his boat in their paddling pool looking for treasure. There was a super funny bit where he threw his pants about, still makes me laugh now. Anyway, I am going to have to do some good thinking and write down a few ideas so that I have a little story stock. I don’t like using my imagination spontaneously as it usually gets me into lots of trouble.

Today has been ace as my lovely family came round for Sunday lunch. All apart from the littlest little sister who had better things to be doing. I absolutely love having lots of people here. I was going to set my alarm for 5am this morning, so that I could get up early and clean to give the impression I am a together type person. Then I remembered that its my family and A) they absolutely know this is not true, B) I didn’t really want to get up at 5, and C) They’re  my family. They don’t care. They just like to see us and eat potatoes.

As it happened the babies didn’t wake up until 7.45 so I was super happy I hadn’t done anything ridiculous like getting up early to clean.

I did try though. in the few hours before they arrived I tidied and hoovered and wet-wiped everywhere. And actually downstairs didn’t look half bad. Upstairs, however, appears to have been burgled. All of my smug-clean washing hung up-ness has vanished because all of the clothes are once again on the sodding floor. The babies rooms are hazardous. and the girl baby has unrolled 53 toilet rolls in the bathroom. Still, amongst the chaos my DDad managed to hang some bunting (I absolutely adore bunting), and cool mobiles that the babies have had since birth so it totally looks loads better now.

It is super useful having parents who are awesome and like to do stuff around the house for you. This is  because HH and I are very very bad at all of these things. We no longer put any flat pack furniture together as last time there was a teeny weeny altercation where I called him something like a massive sodding ruddy knob that I hate. maybe. Also, HH is awesome in so many ways, but DIY is not one of them. It used to really annoy me but I decided to pick my battles because to be fair, no one can do everything and I think he has a disability  or something.

This evening I am going to do some colouring to stop me eating, or drinking lovely drinks. Or thinking of eating or drinking lovely drinks. I’m sure that will be loads of fun.

Today I am grateful for the following*;

1 – Family who live close by

2 – The babies love for music and singing

3 – Netfilx

Toria x

*It is a given that I am absolutely always grateful for all of the coffee.