Recently I had one of those days.
You know, the type where everything just seems to go wrong?
The day was Thursday. As some of you may know Thursday is mummy & Lamb day. We always do something fun and have lunch out, so we began to have breakfast and get dressed ready for our outing.
The Lamb was a little emosh.
I didn’t get breakfast ready quick enough- dramatic temper tantrum.
I didn’t read the right book- dramatic temper tantrum.
I gave her the wrong sippy cup- dramatic temper tantrum.
I didn’t dress quick enough- dramatic temper tantrum.
And in between all the temper tantrums I was showered with love and the majority of the morning had a little person gripping my leg so tight it was like she was afraid she’d wash away if she let go.
Off we went to Nuffield- our gym. The Lamb was going to have an hour in the Creche while I did a spin class then we were going for a swim.
I arrived sweaty and stressed from trying to carry the millions of bags, life jacket and baby into the gym, only to bend my nail back painfully whilst trying to manoeuvre the thousands of bags to get to my pass.
Where is it?! Crap. We’ve been members less than a month and I’ve already lost it.
I casually ask the reception guy if anyone’s handed it in. He looks at me with concern. Possibly he mistakes the tears in my eyes for emotion and regret at losing my pass and not from the painful bending of nail experience moments before… and…. winner! It’s there!
Relieved, The Lamb and I bundle into the creche when The Lamb suddenly decides we must never be parted and grips me tightly whilst wailing mildly.
I manage to untangle us, put my pass on the side and sort out our many many bags. All signed in and now happy, The Lamb scoots off to play. I turn to pick up my pass…
Gone! Again! How?!
A frantic search proves it’s not in any of my bags and is no where in sight. I can only conclude someone else has picked it up thinking it was theirs when dropping off their child.
I slope off to reception and explain that I’ve lost the card I claimed mere minutes before and am met with a sympathetic look from reception guy. I think he fears for my sanity. Guest pass in hand I run and just make spin in time. Joy!
After an excellent class, I’m feeling thoroughly destressed, I go to pick The Lamb up from the creche- still no sign off my pass- and off we go to the changing rooms.
We’re in our suits before I realise the next mistake of the day.
We only have one towel.
Nether the less, off we go to swim, The Lamb all bundled up in her life jacket and we have a whale of a time! As its term end, there’s loads of toys in the pool and The Lamb really enjoys herself.
40 minutes later, suitably tired out, we make for the changing rooms again wrapped up in the one towel.
I manage to get all our shower bits out whilst not losing grip of The Lamb- score- and we head for the showers.
Here’s where I made the next mistake of the day. I decide to shower first whilst strapping The Lamb into the convenient baby chair in the shower.
Half way through, I realise she’s shivering and decide shes big enough to stand in the shower with me. So out she gets. I decide to wash my hair and all hell breaks loose!
The shampoo creates a slippery surface, which, thanks to my years of life learning to walk and balance, I manage to carefully manoeuvre and stay upright. The Lamb- with all 3 months of walking practice under her belt- does not, and begins to slide around, falling around on the tiled floors.
I proceed to launch myself at her, trying to hold her upright while trying to avoid spraying her with shampoo and simultaneously trying, by wiggling my eyebrows, (no free hands!) to stop the shampoo dripping in my eye.
Have you ever tried to stop something going in your eye by wiggling your eyebrows?
Don’t. It doesn’t work. And you look a fool.
The Lamb safely strapped up again, I finish our shower with my burning shampoo eye and wrap us both in our one towel.
By the time we get back to our changing room, the towel is very damp. We dress in a private changing room, not just because I’m a massive prude but because it’s easier to control The Lamb in a small area.
I whack my underwear on (and thank god I did) before drying off The Lamb. Stupidly, I think I’ll dress her while she stands up right and take her nappy off. Only then do I realise she has pooed in said nappy.
Awkwardly, I try to keep her still while reaching around for a nappy and then it happens.
The door isn’t shut properly.
Off Lamb goes. Naked Lamb with poo smeared bum running free amongst the startled gym-goers and here I come. Semi-naked woman, with bright red eye, dripping wet hair and mascara streaked face chasing her around the room.
What a delight for all involved.
Finally, I squeeze my slightly damp -but mercifully clean- child into her clothes and attempt to dress myself with dripping wet hair whilst cursing myself for only bringing one towel.
The moment I stood in a wet patch in just my socks might have been the final low point of the day, or it could have been when my child (terrified of hair dryers) proceeded to run up to anyone with a hair dryer in hand and scream and point at them in an agressive manner- I couldn’t say, all I know is around that time I just stopped caring.
The lunch that followed was nice and uneventful- thankfully. And our afternoon was peaceful.
Best part of the day? Nap time.