Welcome to the FYBF Fears, Tears and Belly Laughs series!
While I’m on holidays, I’ve asked some very special bloggers to share a story based on one of the prompts and wow wee, what a great line up!
Please make sure you leave some comment love for each guest blogger. The more love we give out, in tenfold it returns.
Using the Tears prompt this week, I have the lovely Karina from The Laney Files.
She has four kids, including baby twins (Mama of Twins for the win!) that are really cute and really needy. On her blog, Karina writes about her family chaos and all the times she doesn’t get this parenting thing right…which is a lot of the time! “But hey, that’s what wine o’clock is for, right?”
Over to you, Karina…
Rainy day tears
The morning had started all wrong. Someone woke up too early, which had the effect of waking up everyone else in the house, one at a time. Too early. The kids argued with each other over breakfast, one of the twins wanted to be carried everywhere and the other one whinged constantly. We couldn’t find the ballet shoes. We left late.
Eventually, we were on the road, headed for ballet class. However, as soon as we arrived, it started raining heavily. For some reason the car park was all but full and to fit into one of the remaining spots, I had to reverse in, taking care to leave enough room at the back to get the double stroller out of the boot.
As I turned off the engine, it couldn’t have been raining any harder. We’d arrived right on time for ballet, but there was no point in trying to get through the rain with three kids in tow. Maybe it would subside if we waited for a few minutes.
It didn’t subside. In fact I think it got harder. Starting to feel a bit panicked about how late we were getting, I grabbed an umbrella and decided to risk it. I hoisted the giant stroller out of the boot and looked for an undercover place to set it up, which was through the parked cars and a few metres away. Which is just what you want when you’re getting three kids out of the car. I pushed on with the task and that’s when the giant stroller and I got wedged between the cars. That sense of panic rose a bit more. I threw the umbrella down with disgust and used both arms to lift the stroller high enough to get through, getting saturated for my efforts.
As I put the stroller up, a man walked past and looked at me, a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. I softened, thinking he would offer to help. Then he said, ‘Bit wet, isn’t it!’ and hurried past me while I swore really loudly inside my head and swallowed down the panic.
I got my first toddler out, and shimmied him through the cars, both of us getting rained on as we moved. Unfortunately the stroller was a new one and while I’d tested its up and down functions, I hadn’t banked on tricky buckles that required a secret pressing sequence to open. I pulled and strained at the buckle, willing it to open, my wet hands slippery and clumsy. The rain bucketed down around us. Fuck we were late.
And with that I started to cry, right there in the car park. Not just a few shy tears either, but one of those big belly sobs that come out all loud and snotty. I held the toddler between my legs, put my face in my hands and tried to calm down, hoping no one could see me.
Somehow the buckle opened and I packed away the twins, ushered the ballerina out of the car, and we all hurried through the car park in the rain. I wiped at my face and tried to paste on a smile. I felt ridiculously traumatised.
Once at class, I made eye contact with a fellow ballet mum who was chasing her own toddler around. She gave me a brief look and said, ‘We’ve all had mornings like that.’ And I thought, what a brilliant thing to say. Then I cried again.
Sometimes there’s mornings that are tough but you can push through it, shake it off or find a way to kick its arse. Other mornings, it’s just raining too damn much.
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