It’s all about balance

As a rule of thumb, generally the more beastly your children, the more you will be able to relate to the observations below:

During meal times you’ll be trying to persuade tiny humans to eat food that you would love to eat yourself but can’t, because you’re on a diet – trying to lose the weight you gained whilst growing said humans. This is endlessly frustrating.

Having to do a visual sweep of any room, on entry, to identify possible risks, such as: uncovered plug sockets / expensive looking ornaments / open windows / unlocked doors / small animals / large animals / lit candles / unattended drinks (alcoholic or otherwise) / general breakables / fancy furniture / fruit or snack bowls / low hanging picture frames / the elderly or infirm / anything that can be climbed on (including the aforementioned elderly or infirm)… the list goes on.

Pre warning friends without children (or the ones who do not have beasts) that they will need to move any / all of the above items before you and your little angels come to visit *if they want them to remain intact, that is* and then asking them to lock all doors and windows once everyone’s in the house, before hiding the keys so that neither of your beasts can escape whilst you’re there.

Becoming accustomed to moving round the supermarket like a ninja, only going to the aisles that are absolutely necessary, to be out in the quickest possible time, thus minimizing the risk of accidental theft, embarrassingly loud observations about other shoppers, and judgmental looks from other parents. Unless you’re in the supermarket alone, in which case you take as long as possible looking at every unnecessary item because it feels like a holiday…what an indulgence!

Giving genuine consideration to faking your own death when someone invites you and your beasts to the unrivalled horror that is a soft play centre during the school holidays. *small shudder…when I close my eyes I can still hear the screams*.

Never hating someone so much as when you know that your weekend consists of housework, 6am starts and being generally used and abused by a tiny army that you made yourself, and they say ‘oh I’m not really up to anything this weekend, I’ll probably just have a lay in, then maybe go to town to do a bit of shopping. Then we might go to the cinema in the evening. Or we might just stay home and do nothing ha, ha.’ Then feeling very pleased with yourself if you manage to smile gracefully and say ‘well have a great one’ rather than punching them in a blind, jealous rage.

Having to smother hysterical sniggers and nod seriously when a new parent says ‘oh no we don’t let little Jonah watch television and he only eats organic food, we’re not letting him have sweets. And we never have to raise our voices at him, he’s such a good boy’. Resist the urge to schedule in an appointment with them in about a year’s time to remind them of their words and determine how they’ve gotten on with all their grand plans.

Yelling ‘Jesus Christ you two would you Just.Stop.Touching.Everything or I swear to God I will chop your fingers off’… before realising that you’re in a public place and people are staring, and there’s an actual possibility someone (other than your children of course because they know you’re full of shit) is going to assume you’re serious and call child services .

Whilst having two little beasts is certainly hard work, they do come with their benefits, and we are very lucky that they are both healthy, bright and enthusiastic, and we do not underestimate how fortunate we are to be blessed with them (although sometimes I need to be reminded while wiping poo off the wall *again*) . So while no one tells you before you have children that you’ll probably find yourself pondering if you’ve actually gone insane as you survey the chaos that is now your home, filled with lego, baby wipes, plastic cutlery, nappies and clothes smaller than your knickers (depressing) they also never tell you about:

The cuddles. They are always forthcoming and feel like a lovely squishy treat each time.

The weird and wonderful conversations and questions that can only come from the uncluttered mind of a child (note the questions can be somewhat less appealing when you have been asked about a hundred different things in the space of an hour)

The dancing. if you’ve ever heard the expression ‘dance like no one is watching’, you should revise this to ‘dance like a toddler – they don’t even care if there’s music’.

The trips to the park (even when you’ve been playing Dragon for what feels like forever) – seeing the uncomplicated and unbridled joy of a small boy going down a slide is something that’s difficult to explain until you’ve witnessed it firsthand.

The ‘I love you mummys’: knowing that (along possibly with daddy, I suppose, if I must share the accolade) you are one of the most important people on the whole planet to two little beasts and tucking this knowledge safely away to keep you going on those challenging days at work, or on those days where nothing seems to be going right; you’re still number one to them.

So it’s a matter of balance really, when you think about it: Endless chores, frustrations, peer pressure (other parents are astoundingly judgemental – where’s the solidarity nowadays people?) questioning your abilities as a parent or guardian *and sanity*, wondering if you’re going to make it through the day, but  in return being rewarded with unconditional love (and cuddles). So beastly as they are, we wouldn’t have it any other way. 😘😊

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@beastlyboysblog

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