Yep, that’s today’s mood (and yesterday’s actually). Had a tough night with the beans last night. When I put them to bed they decided their backs hurt so I kissed them better, then I hear four little feet and sounds of hushes coming down the stairs…now their feet hurt. Anyway, a lot of “hurt limbs” later I cave and snuggle on the sofa with them and watch jungle book. At 9pm they went straight to bed without a fuss – just lots of kisses.

As a result of the late night, I only saw Bean#2 very briefly this morning whilst Bean#1 stayed in her pit. I was disappointed, but wanted them to catch up on their sleep so I didn’t get a repeat tonight.

Now, I love my job. Like properly love it, but sometimes it can be a shit prick. Today, it was a super shit prick. Like, if it was my boyfriend it would need to buy me some serious handbags and calamari to make up for it. Today my job kicked the shit out of me and on my drive home all that stopped me from pulling up at the kebab house and ordering my body weight in meat and garlic mayo and then eating my feelings in a bus lane, was my beans.

They had other ideas.

Firstly, they had the shits. I haven’t got shit under my finger nail in a long old time, but can now confirm three year old’s shit is worse than baby shit. It stinks. I stink. My house stinks.

In order to nip any kind of tantrum in the bud I explained the following to them 48 times: bubble bath, one episode of super hero’s, milk with crumpet, one story, two songs and then bed.

They bought it (other than Bean#2 didn’t want a crumpet).

I run the bubble bath and Bean#1 loses her shit of epic proportions. Throwing herself around and screaming. She said the bath was too cold, I tested it and it was actually too hot. I explained she had got hot and coke mixed up (trying to be a good parent and impart wisdom) but oh no. She was adamant it was cold.

Looooong story short. She wouldn’t get in. After several attempts on my side to reason with her, I ended up not doing what I had explained 48 times, but just putting her straight to bed.

40 minutes later, Bean#1 caved and accepted a bath. I thought the victory would make me feel good, but it actually just made me realise I’d postponed the whole fucking routine by 40 minutes and my dinner was never actually gonna happen as a result.

After Bean#1 got out the bath and happily got into her PJs I presented her with a crumpet – as originally planned. Cue tantrum from the previously well behaved Bean#2. She wanted a crumpet. Seriously?! Seriously?! Now you want a fucking crumpet?!? I have offered you a crumpet 30 thousand fucking times! Why are you punishing me? I’m a good(ish) person.

Now Bean#2 is nowhere near as stubborn so I managed to bribe her with two songs instead of one and allowing her to pick the story.

They’re now in bed. Sound asleep. I’m downstairs watching In the Line of Duty feeling like a shit pig because they’re with their dad tomorrow night and I’m gonna miss them like mental. All I’ll feel is guilt because tonight, all I’ve done is tell them off.

I just wanna be a good mum and a good media professional. I’m doing all I can but no one is playing ball with me. So fuck it. I’m gonna throw in the towel and go live on a riverboat (with lots of wine).