Look, screw you guys and your activities. I feel even more depressed than I did before, now that I know I'm expected to be an all-singing, all-dancing Mary Poppins children's entertainer 24/7. Furthermore, if I don't act as a mary poppins, then I am a neglectful, incompetent parent - screw you. Here's what just happened.
After the health visitor left (no problems with baby's 9 month check; hitting all milestones; weight gain spot on) I cut a bin bag in half and layed it on the floor to use as a splash mat. Then I got out the finger paints and stripped both babies down to their nappies. So far so good. I take the tops off the paint and start naming the colours, cooing enthusiastically. At this point, baby begins his usual grating winging. Toddler is enjoying herself. Baby is interacting with the paint but the winging turns to full-on crying within minutes. I try to distract him. Toddler still enjoying herself. Very soon, the crying turns to full on screaming. Baby's face is bright red. At this point, I'm cursing you guys. Thinking of you sitting there smugly behind your laptops on your ivory sofas.
Toddler now getting irritated by baby and starting to whine. Paint getting tipped onto the carpet. My blood pressure rising. Tears welling up in my eyes. I decide it's time to end this stupid fucking exercise. I calmly put the tops back on the paints and explain that we're tidying up now. I go and run the bath. Baby screaming more and more now. Toddler starts crying. Bath is taking so long to run.
I take off babys nappy and put him in the bath. He seems to calm down a little. He sits in the bath just doing his usual grating winging and looking at the rubber ducky. Toddler follows us into the bathroom. I remove her nappy and put her in. She starts screaming and trying to climb out (normally her dad would be getting in with her). So I quickly wash her as she screams and fights me, then get her out and put her dressing gown on. After all this drama, baby is now screaming. His face is bright red. I quickly wash him and get him out.
Now I'm sitting here, drying baby and thinking FUCK YOU GUYS.
If not being mary poppins makes me a fucking abusive parent, then you better call the SS! My kids were even more miserable after following your advice than they were before. Baby winges whatever I do. So whoever said that he was winging because I'm a neglectful bitch - fuck you. He winges even when activities and stimulation are present.
I will stick with talking to my children about what they're doing, and taking them out once a day. If that makes me a shit parent, so be it.