A Day in the Life with a Toddler.... the Non-Blog Friendly Version

Recently I've found myself a tad more time on my hands (after going on maternity leave, Evie having nursery and me cleaning at random crazy hours there seems to have been more hours in the day)...so what have I chose to do with that time? I've chose to lay on my bed reading day in the life blog posts. Although I came across a few realistic ones there were many that I read and immediately thought really? This is honestly how you are telling me your everyday life goes? So I wanted to do you guys my own version, the brutal real version of what my life is really like with a demanding sassy 3 year old daughter... ENJOY!

5.30-7.00am: No 2 days are the same for when Evie wakes up but I can safely say its never a subtle 'Morning mummy'. We are usually greeted with the bump bump bump of Evie coming down her flight of stairs, a dry but worn nappy thrown in our faces and the demand of "I need a wee, watch my shark"

Within minutes of wee completion, breakfast is required and not just some cereal oh no, I'm talking a 3 course meal with warm juice and a variety of choices! This usually means that breakfast is done and the kitchen cleaned for 7.30am easily.

8.00-8.30am: Let the daily battle commence of teeth brushing, snack refusal and hair doing.

9.30am: By this time both of us are ready for the day, Evie has been given 'sweets' which unbeknown to her are yoghurt covered fruit and we are both raring to go for that park trip we had planned. Oh but guess what, its only gone and started raining....Time for a rethink!

Mid-morning: Depending on the frame of mind I am in and the level desperateness we have either hit soft play, headed to the park in the rain coats and wellies or sacked it all off got back in our jamas and trashed the living room with toys. Either way we'll stay put until lunch which when you've had breakfast at 6.00am can be 11.30 easy.

Oh wait... I forgot to mention. The poo that Evie had somehow got on the bathroom floor and then squished into the floor with toilet paper so she 'wouldn't slip on it' or the mental breakdown we had over the fact rain is wet which means yes Evie the car will be wet darling.
The continuous sound of mummy, mummy, mummy, mummy in my ears. As though I had forgotten my other name and who my child belonged to.

Lunchtime: A healthy picnic plate demolished in the living room on her blanket, a mother feeling a sense of achievement that surely there were 3 portions of fruit and veg in there. But really who has won here, the toddler that has had not just her lunch but mine too or the mother who is left picking up raisins from her vase of flowers and the yoghurt from those god damn wispy bits of hair that are forever in my childs face?

Mid-afternoon: Yet another meltdown. This time over the fact there ISN'T any poo in her knickers. Why? Somebody please explain to me why?

By this point I'm knackered, I feel like I'm going bat shit crazy and my child has eaten me out of house and home. I've spent the past hour trying to do something productive with my time whilst being tied inside the house like ring Yorkshire Water. But of course Evie had to speak to Susan on the other end of the phone and tell her all about the poo on the bathroom floor this morning. So what do we do?
We head to one of 2 places... Poundland and those stupid rides in the bottom of the supermarket complex or to my God send Grandparents house for half an hour of adult conversation and a break from being top dog.

Dinnertime: That constant Angel and Devil Mother battle in my head.... do I make something scratch knowing Evie probably most eat it and it'll end in a sulk off between the two of us or do I stick to something I know like stuffed pasta in sauce with a corn on the cob with the knowledge "Yes I haven't filled my child full of nutritional organic wonderfulness but hey she has a full belly and will sleep the night".

The Witching Hour: The hour before Daddy Joe opens the door and I run for the hills, the hour of constant Peppa Pig and her bloody family snorting in my living room obnoxiously, the hour of find anything I can to keep Evie entertained and my mind ticking over. 5pm-6pm has to be my most hated hour of the entire day. FACT.

6.20-6.30pm: Joe walks through the door and I realise God can't hate me that much because he's sent me Joe home from work. We have one last battle of the 'Eves put your teeth together whilst we brush please' then its off to bed with Daddy Joe for a story or 3 (because he's a mug) whilst I get in my jamas, get dinner on and look at the bomb site my house has become!

Don't get me wrong, not everyday is as terrible as this, there as days we have where Evie as an absolute gem, where the sun has come out and the bread crusts have been eaten. But don't be fooled by those 15 mins of footage you watch or A4 piece of paper you read online about that heavenly lovely day thats been reported to you!

Much Love


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