I'm so tired (due date in one week) and my back hurts and winge winge winge, but instead of resting while my toddler sleeps, I am tacking the bombsite that I'm sure used to be my bedroom.
I'm really not particularly materialistic and I certainly don't have anything worth worrying about if it breaks or gets lost, but I'm just feeling really fed up with the wanton destruction of my things. She bounces into the room, flings open a cupboard and cheerfully wrenches out a string of beads, snapping them and scattering glass baubles everywhere. She climbs up onto the bed, bids me a happy good morning and knocks over my water glass, soaking my book, drowning my mobile and sogging my pillow. I'm just mopping that up when I realise she's sitting on the bed watching me and thoughtfully eating a lipstick. While I wrap the lipstick in loo roll to throw it away she tries to turn on my bedside light, knocking it over causing a domino effect with what's left in the water glass. Splash again. All, this has probably taken less than a minute and I'm starting to feel a little aggrieved. Deep breath. Pass that necklace to mummy please darling - but no, she's not silly and senses that mummy is getting a bit fed up which is great fun (I do try and hide it and stay calm...) so it's more fun to shriek delightedly and run away with the beads. I love the necklace. I lumber after her desparately trying to remain in charge of the situation (yeah right) and really hoping the necklace does't snap. Ping. More little glass beads everywhere.
At which point I stop pretending to be a grown up about it and fling child out of the window.
Not really.
The pretty glass heart that dp bought me: hinge of box snapped and tooth marks in the velvet.
The necklace my dad gave my mum when they first moved to UK: catch missing, presumed poked inside the dvd player.
Bangles squished, lip balms smushed into their lids, my toothbrush tucked behind the loo, the hat I bought for unborn baby neatly smeared with bogies.
Is the only answer to just have nothing nice?
I have just completely cleared my bedroom, bedside table and dressing table of anything remotely decorative or pretty. No photos. No jewelery box. No useless little boxes too small to put anything in. No pretty dishes for change, rings and stuff. No perfume bottles. No makeup. No creams. No lotions, powders or unguents of any sort.
Now it's an accusingly stark monument to my abject failure in this particular line of parenting.
I feel surprisingly upset about it. Hormones probably. Advice? Tips? I'd be grateful for a manly pat on the back and a gruff "there there". I just can't cope any more with the daily destruction of things that I've looked after carefully for so many years.