I don't swear much but when I do I like to really mean it. So, if you're of a particularly nervous disposition or are offended easily, I suggest you turn away now.
What a fucking awful day!
Toddler tantrum number three thousand, four hundred and...oh, who am I kidding? I stopped counting months ago.
It started off well enough. The 3 year old screamed because he didn't want to get dressed, because he didn't want to go to his swimming lesson, because he didn't want to leave the many electronic devices in the house. But I got him into the car, into the leisure centre, into his swimming gear and into the pool. Result!
But then it all started to go wrong and the tiny part of the world I inhabit got to share in the joy that is my child.
And this is where the swearing really starts...
I'd like to thank the people of Altrincham who are, quite frankly, a miserable bunch of judgemental fucktards. Not all of them in fairness but a good proportion. The ones who look on with frowny faces. Audibly tut when you pass them. Stand and stare. Whisper behind their hands. Laugh and shake their heads. One women even altered her path to avoid us like we had the fucking bubonic plague!
Now obviously my 3 year old's behaviour is my fault.
It's my fault he refused to go to bed last night. It's my fault he got up at stupid o'clock this morning. It's my fault I took him out for a lovely lunch. It's my fault I refused to buy him the bubbles. It's my fault he's grown out of his trousers and I need to buy him new ones. It's my fault I try to stop him from licking lamp-posts. It's my fault he has to wear shoes in town. It's my fault I refused to go back for the bubbles. It's my fault I have to hold his hand whilst crossing the road. It's my fault he can't stick his hand down the side of moving escalators. It's my fault I refused to go back for the fucking bubbles.
But this is all I accept responsibility for. Everything else is firmly his fault.
I hate the way fucking middle class twats in this part of the world take any and every opportunity to look down on others. The way that they pretend that their children never had tantrums. If you're claiming they haven't then I'd suggest that (1) they're either too scared of you to do so (bit worrying), (2) their emotional development is slightly in question, (3) you've blocked the trauma from your memory, or (4) you're fucking lying!
I know it's slightly annoying when someone is screaming at the top of their lungs, but guess what? I live with him! And I put up with it far more than you do. And no, there is nothing wrong with my child, but thank you ever so much for your concern random stranger. HE'S JUST 3!!
After subjecting the good people of this blessed plot to my child's quite frankly, appalling behaviour we went back to the Leisure Centre for round 2 - the 8 year old's swimming lesson.
The dirty, stinky, cesspit that is Altrincham Leisure Centre then proceeded to mug me for another set of swimming lessons for the boys and a certificate and badge for the 3 year old. A badge which he immediately lost under a vending machine and I had to spend a good proportion of time on my hands and knees looking for.
After I'd spent a good ten minutes at reception trying to pay whilst shouting at the 3 year old to stop swinging on the turnstile the receptionist laughed and said, 'And you'll have another one to pay for before long'!
I simply stared back as the realisation of what she'd said sunk in.
Now, I know I've had to suspend my gym membership during the holidays and I've consumed a fair amount of chocolate and beer just to maintain my sanity...but in no way do I look fucking pregnant!
I then had to buy a bottle of cherry coke and a Yorkie to calm my nerves and spent the rest of the day looking at myself sideways in mirrors and shop windows to assess the damage.
So, just in case you require an executive summary:
- 3 year old's are mini explosive devices ready to go off at any second;
- The people of Altrincham are judgemental fucktards;
- I am fat
APPROACH WITH EXTREME CAUTION!