Mum Life

Do you remember the first time? I can’t remember a worse time…

One month as a stay at home Mum. It's probationary review time....

Poss 1 (no chute)

It’s been one whole month since I gave up my office job in London to be a stay at home Mum. I am unsure of my productivity and keen to distill some feedback I can use to improve, and so I’ve asked my both of my bosses, who I now refer to as Mr S and Miss B, to give me a probationary review meeting. Below is a blow by blow account of this meeting, noted in detail to allow for a full and formal record and to contribute to the development of my SMART objectives. Full disclosure, some of the dialogue and information below has been tweaked through my interpretation filter to make sense, as ‘bummy bummy bum bum’ can mean many things out of context.

As I wait in the play meeting room for the bosses I nervously fidget and doodle on my notepad. Will they have positive feedback? Will I be lavishly rewarded with heaps of praise for my efforts over the past month? The eye twitch I developed on my first day (on account on holding in all the profanity) has become pretty aggressive, but I they both think I’m winking at them. Hopefully, any other challenges I’ve faced over the past month have been handled with patience and any frustration kept to a minimum, and so I am hopeful for some approval to keep me going through the trying times.

I’ve been trying to start the meeting for the past forty five minutes but so far have been:

  • called into the toilet to wipe both bosses bottoms
  • had to encourage both to wash hands by gently guiding them in the direction of the soap/ sink for a good ten minutes
  • remove some faeces from the sink and a pair of Batman underpants
  • split up a fairly heated argument about who’s poo it was on the side of the sink
  • been unable to locate Wally, largely on account of being given approximately 7 seconds to scan each double page spread before moving on to the next assault on the eyes
  • removed blu tac from Miss B’s ear
  • removed blue tac from Mr S’s nostril
  • removed blu tac from my cold coffee (very nearly the straw that broke the camels back – resulted in a 2 minute break to scream into a pillow)

Yes! I have successfully seated both bosses at the table and I am ready for my feedback. Rather than try and digest the information from both bosses at the same time, and as Miss B is getting stuck into dissecting the Boden catalogue with some wavy scissors, I decide to start with Mr S.

Me: “So… how have you enjoyed having me here for the past month sir?
I hope I’ve been of some assistance….?”

Mr S: ” Captain America could win the Hulk you know.
Hulk is all big and green, but Captain America has a shield. Shall I show you?”

To be fair to him, it looks like he was right. Hulk lies defeated on the floor while Captain America flies around the room with a larger, more hyper Captain America holding him and screaming ‘I WON!”

After a snack and a quick game of ‘where’s the bogey’ (spoiler – in my hair) we are back at the table. I decide to try Miss B this time.

Me: “Miss B, are you satisfied with my conduct and professionalism since taking up this challenging role?”

Miss B (pointing): “That’s my pen! It is! It’s pink and has sparkles and I can use it to write my name and where is my pony?”

Me: “OK sure you have the pen, I’m just wondering if you’re happy with the activities we’ve been doing over the past few weeks?”

Miss B: “Pen. Pony.”

We had to postpone the meeting as lunchtime was marked by CBeebies asking ‘What’s on your plate?‘ and every option of an answer being brain stormed and then put in the metaphorical bin of ‘shit we will NEVER eat.’ After persistence and another quick howl into a cushion in another room for me, we agreed on a cheese omelette, some peas and a large chunk of ciabatta eaten whilst the rest was cooking and cooling.

By the time we started again, my optimism had joined forces with my tiredness and formed a supergroup called ‘Shitty Bollocking Can’t Cope’ (catchy name right?). But SBCC can sod off, I’m made of stronger stuff and so I stifled their subconscious wailing and persisted,  determined to get some feedback and devise a coping strategy for the coming months.

Miss B is now shit arsed tired and Mr S has decided to morph all his dress up outfits making a Captain BatThor SpiderLightyear. He looks pretty good and is buoyed by my uncontrollable laughter. Despite the tiredness of Miss B, I decide to crack on and get something written down.

 “So guys, do you like me being here all the time?” I ask nervously. Both look at me with blank faces and then Mr B says:

“I love you, you’re my whole world.”

Miss S nods and shouts ‘You’re the best!” and in that moment, my heart explodes with joy and I cry. This time not into a pillow. This time without chocolate pitifully dribbling out of my mouth. And this time with a shit ton of pride and love.

That’ll do. For now. Plus I have to intervene as the little uberhero and stationary enthusiast have started shoving lego down each others pants and shit is about to go down.

After the lego battle died down, I had a crack at one SMART objective anyway, as I love a plan and it might save me from having to wash my snot stained pillow cases quite as much if once achieved.

1 – Ensure independent wiping of own arse
2 – Ensure proper washing of hands

1 – Less 90 degree washes, assessment of clean underwear and observation of level of whinge factor on how ‘spiky’ bottom is due to appropriate amount of wiping
2 – No shit on hands

1 – Persistence and patience
2 – Continuing education on soap and only buying the purple one because the green one is “yucky”

1 – Less exposure to actual human shit
2 – Less cleaning of actual human shit

Time- bound
1 & 2 – 18th September 2017 – or new teachers will judge parenting from the get go

Peace out, N ♥


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