Not So Secret Journal

Day Three started out so promisingly but went downhill faster than Lewis Hamilton in the Grand Prix.

Where do I start?

Right at the very beginning would help I suppose.

I was up with the dog at 6am as normal, the Asda man was due between 7-8am, he’s normally bang on 7am, but this wasn’t going to be any kind of “Normal day”.

First up, eldest daughter announces she’s in work for 8, not an issue Asda man was due soon, everything would be fine. Only it gets to 7:50 and there’s still zero sign of any kind of man that looks like he works for Asda.

This wasn’t looking good.

We had to leave, and I now know that come the Asda man arriving he wouldn’t be able to leave the wine, due to my middle kids being underage. Not a big deal, but its shit having to go back to Asda to buy something that could be delivered with your shop.  As I turn off the drive guess who had the balls to shows his face? Mr Asda himself, oh well shit happens, I’ll just have to pop to Asda later, and try not to do another big shop whilst in there.

Once back home from the work run, the house had descended into chaos, because I wasn’t home to supervise the brood and organise the shopping. As I tried desperately to claw back some sort of organised chaos it was time for the school run.

How fast did that come around, Monday and Tuesday had been a dream, how had we crashed by Wednesday, I was so ready to turn this around.

We were now running just 5 minutes late, no Biggy, we would just have to walk faster.

Just as we turned the corner, the crazy dog thought she would add her chaos to my already late and chaotic day, by deciding she now needed to have a poo on the school run. She knows the rules, it’s either whilst we are home, on the way home or on her big walk, we have no time for shitting on the school run.

Oh, dear lord, it was the biggest and most horrific crap I have ever seen, as I was doing my human and responsible duty, the kids tried to hold on the crazy one. She bounced and bumped into me so many times, that my finger somehow manged to land in the said poop. My heart sank, I picked up the wrong bag, we had poop bags but nothing else, the other bag has hand sanitiser, and tissues, now all I had was some poo bags and a finger full of poop. The fear of knowing I still had to walk to school, drop off the littlest ones and return home with a poop finger.

Being a mum, I did only thing that I knew how and wiped it on the inside of my hoody and pray no one could smell it. This poor hoody has been peed on, sneezed on and has probably at some point been used to wipe toothpaste off faces at the school gates (all my kids I promise).

I made it to and from school, without even a snide look from “those” mums who have all their ducks in a row, and probably hand sanitiser in their bags! Once home I scrubbed my hands, and removed the hoody like it was some kind of military mission like on Monsters Inc when they find a sock on the monster.

I did consider just calling it a day and running to Asda for wine, and taking up day drinking, but I remembered I don’t drink, and I have actually had worse days, so I pulled up my big girl pants and went to the gym, before heading to Asda for the Wine and then going to see my Nanna for some quality time.

She found the whole thing far too funny for words and asked if I was going to be the new Bond, in Poo Finger, it’s a good job she’s 89.

Day Four, I’m coming for you