Who The Hell Asked You Anyway?

Something really annoying happened this week. Well, quite a few annoying things happened this week, each varying in degrees of annoyance. I will start with the trivial and work my way up to ‘the big one’. There I go, building up the suspense when you will probably read it and think ‘What are you on about woman?!’

Then again, you might get just as annoyed as I did.

Bath in the Rain

First annoyance this week is our bath’s plughole. I know, random to be annoyed over, but we have a tricky sort of built in plug type thing and for the past few days I’ve been noticing the water isn’t draining as fast as it should be and therefore a shower has become an awkward sort of standing up bath in the rain type of thing. The water level reaches mid calf now and no matter how much I try to prise open the plug to see what the blockage is inside, the bloody thing won’t budge. I can’t even let Mr Muscle go in for a crack at it as if I try to squirt him down the hole (ugh… horrible mental image! Apologies!) it doesn’t get past the metal covering. I feel an immense sense of guilt as well because I am currently joining the cats in a sort of mid winter moult so there’s a very high chance I caused the thing to become blocked in the first place.

Bath Toy Mountain

Not really a mountain, so much as a landslide of brightly coloured, slightly damp smelling squidgy things that I have to precariously pile into an inadequately sized plastic box every evening after bath time.

I feel quite guilty for moaning about this one actually. I used to love a good play time session in the bath as a kid, with all my various toys and the concoctions I used to mix together using toothpaste and my Dad’s shaving foam a la Roald Dahl’s George’s Marvellous Medicine.

Nowadays, my very own George is mixing his own marvellous medicine in the tub and I am fighting to store the apparatus when he and his brother vacate the cauldron themselves. It’s completely my own doing, I keep meaning to get adequate bath toy storage but it feels like a really frivolous thing to splash out on at the moment… pun intended. I plan to find a good solution in the pound shop on my next visit. I made a promise to myself to spend pennies more wisely this year and start saving and I can’t piss it up the wall already by spending over £15 on a fancy scooping bath toy basket that suspends on the wall of the bathroom.

As tempting as it is.

Wonky Trollies

Next up on the annoyance list is the fact that I seem to have a distinct knack for finding the supermarket trolley equivalent of the Wonky Donkey. I either pick up one that is full of detritus left over from the previous shopper (usually a banana skin and a screwed up shopping list that, surprisingly, doesn’t have any bananas listed on it??) and I have to go over the sticky areas with a baby wipe or 30 before I can deposit my children into the trolley and start shopping. Or I pick up the Elsa from Frozen equivalent who conceals and doesn’t feel it’s handicap until I am half way up the bakery aisle and it chooses then to be a good time to start veering off to the left of it’s own accord. Then you have the loud and proud trolley that clatters and squeaks its way around the supermarket, making other shoppers wince and look around to see what’s coming their way. One day I will choose a trolley that works properly! And, as an added bonus, it will be standing alone waiting for me without the need of a £ coin.

Lazy and Disgusting

Of course, these things are just trivialities and I’m only half annoyed by them. They’re minor annoyances at best. And I’ve only really listed them in order to delay having to speak about something that truly did annoy me this week.

I went to work for an older lady this week and, mid foiling her hair, we wandered onto breastfeeding as a topic of conversation. I mentioned that I still feed my two year old, George, at night time and the woman instantly recoiled. She spun round on me, looked me up and down and said ‘Ugh… You’re still feeding him? Ugh! No… no. That’s bad. You should stop. To have him sucking on your tit like that? Ugh! No, it’s lazy and DISGUSTING!’

I wish I could say I told her to mind her own business and shut up with such ignorance. I want to proudly state that I walked out of her house and left her there with only half the amount of foils she needed on her head. I would love to say I shaved her head and told her she was a tit and to suck on that herself. Anything! I wish I had done anything other than what I did.

Which was nothing.

To be honest, I was speechless. This happens to me so much. I get spoken to wrongly and then it’s only upon reflection that I seem to wake up from the shock and think about all the different retorts I would have liked to have made.

Who The Hell Asked You Anyway?

Why are there so many people out there who venture forth with their opinion, when you haven’t even bloody well asked for it? Motherhood is one of the most explosive subjects for debate that I have ever come across. The truth is, none of us really know what the hell we are doing. No one is a perfect parent because to be that would be to be a perfect person, which is about as likely as a pig flying past the window right now.

Obviously, I don’t agree with the woman. In my opinion, my son seeking comfort from me at night time is perfectly normal and if it helps me get some much needed sleep then mores the better. Do I think breastfeeding is lazy? No. I think being able to produce milk is one of the coolest things I have ever seen my body do. To go through the hormone surges, the hunger, the cracked nipples and the night feeds and not be able to pass the baton feels far from lazy. To give George nutrients and antibodies to benefit his health isn’t lazy. To nurture and bond with my child isn’t disgusting. I am his mum.

It feels as though you just can’t win. And that is where my main annoyance lies. You’re encouraged to breast feed. Most of us then encounter some sort of fresh hell from accomplishing the task. You then start to enjoy the bonding time and suddenly, people start asking when you’re going to stop. Or telling you when to stop. Or, in this instance, telling you that what you’ve worked very hard to do is lazy and disgusting.

It just affirms my thoughts and feelings that, unless asked for, it is always better to keep one’s opinions firmly to oneself. Don’t you agree? Ha! See what I did there?

Much to my further annoyance, I left the lady with really nice hair and she’s said she will be rebooking in a few weeks time.

Yay.

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