Monday, 12 July 2010

Not even close to a mummy blog post.

Early the other morning, Rocco came running into our bedroom, looked at both of us, then yelled out: "YOU F***CK."

I am so ground down by him lately that it took every inch not to scream up in his face "NO CHAMP - YOU F*CK."

He sleeps in a big bed, so runs around the house at all hours of the night. Plonking himself down next to me at 3am one morning, handing me the remote. "Watch Buth and Woody."

I took him back into his bed, he got up again - three more times, screaming to watch Toy Story.

Changing his nappy is a nightmare. He shouts and kicks me, tries to put his hands in his shit. Getting him dressed into his clothes is a tug'o'war. He screams when I put him in the stroller, so I relent - then I run after him as he bolts down the street, narrowly getting missed by cars.

He rules all of us with his tyrant ways.

It's not funny anymore. It actually never WAS FUCKING FUNNY. I have had ENOUGH. Yes I love him, of course I fricken love him but sweet Jesus I am a nervous, twitching wreck. He yells into my face. If I get cranky, he yells into my face LOUDER. I asked him to get into the car the other day or I would carry him to the car ... he pulled his head back and headbutted me square in the face.

I smacked his bum. Cushioned by his nappy, but still.

Here is a current photo of him -

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If we ever get a nanny, she'd jump off the roof.

Fuck I wish I had a nanny.
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