#gingerhurricane

[motherofagingerhurricane]

You're first heart beat

Fuelled by mine.

Each finger, each toe

My body designed.

Beneath my skin you grew your bones

In that skin you found your home.

(By Me.)

[motherofagingerhurricane]

Is it even a mum blog if your first post doesn't involve s**t?!

How do you start your day?

Coffee?

Toast?

Shot of tequila?...No?

Being a mama I obviously begin mine with coffee...I'm not even sure I'd remember my own name these days without that first fix of the velvety, hazel brown saviour!

*pre-baby I was a self confessed coffee snob, now however, I am a firm believer that bad coffee is better than no coffee*

Anyway, I'll set the scene...

Its Monday. 6.30am.

(I've obviously already been awake an hour fighting him back into a slumber in the hope of redeeming even an extra 10minutes!...to no avail)

I sit down, coffee in hand, the unrelenting happiness of children's television now the sound track to the start of my day.

He's happily dancing along to the Thomas and friends theme tune when it happens. The unmistakable smell of fresh poo (the prefect accompaniment to fresh coffee).

Out with the changing mat, wipes, clean nappy - ready for a quick change, feeling like super mum as the caffeine hits.

Off comes the nappy. Right. We have had bad nappies in the past, but I am in shock. How can something so innocent, laid smiling up at me have created such a ferel mess and be happy to sit in it?!

The fact i even expect him to sit there nicely while I clean up the disaster in his pants tells me I still have a lot to learn in this game!

He had decided that this particular nappy change would be much more fun for mummy if he crawled around covered in poo. OBVIOUSLY.

Its everywhere. Feet. Legs. Back. Neck. Face?!

Immediate evacuation to the bathroom! I plonk my giggling child into the bath where he proceeds to smear the feces around the tub. In sheer panic I reach to turn on the shower. Due to the aforementioned panic I evidently didn't adjust the shower and managed to blast myself with the baltic water...to add insult to injury my now dripping hair was freshly washed and styled (fellow mamas or general unmanageable hair friends will feel this pain)

So here we are...me soaked, him crawling around the bathtub creating poo art. I couldn't help but laugh at myself for how I thought parenting would be...or more than that, how I imagined I would be as a parent. I guarantee that not once did I imagine the scene before me!

Baby finally hosed down, clean nappy and vest applied, hair dried (now resembling the newest BeeGee) we head back downstairs to the scene of the crime. Amidst the chaos I neglected to properly discard the soiled nappy.

Upon entry to the living room we discover that the dog has helped himself to the contents of the nappy...yes you read that correctly, the dog is treating himself to an extra breakfast.

This is Monday. Before 7.30am.

This is the reality people.

Some days I'm super mum.

Some days I'm struggling to adult.

I guess they call it balance?