It’s morning and I drag my sorry a** around the house (easier said than done in the final trimester of pregnancy number 2 with severe pelvic pain) to tend to my toddler’s stinking nappy and get him breakfast.
An hour later, there’s pee on the floor thanks to said toddler’s newfound ability to take his own nappy off, banana smeared on the walls, fingerprints all over the windows and so much crap in the kitchen I can no longer see the actual bench. Despite the fact that I cleaned the entire house just before bed last night.
There’s a lot about my life that has changed since having a baby.
Strewn across the floor is a belt, coathanger, hairbrush, dishwasher manual, shoes and various plastic containers – because the child has decided mum and dad’s stuff is way more interesting than his and insists on continued rifling through drawers and cupboards. Note to self, buy yet more baby proofing.