The weird reality of raising tiny humans.

It's a certainty that parenthood is quite different from how I'd always pictured it to be; in a few ways, it's easier, and in lots of other way's, it's a damn sight harder. But, above all else- it's just plain bloody weird at times.

Why?

Because kids are strange, strange creatures. Sure, they're lovely little things (sometimes) but they're also pretty odd. They say and do strange things. They push us to our limits and then they fill us with love and pride. They're funny, they're infectious and they're complex.

To put it bluntly: they're a bit of a head fuck sometimes.

You can think you're doing the right thing, teaching them all the right morals and all the best manners- and then they'll go and do something like shout "mummy's got a big fat bum bum" in a busy public place, and you'll wonder if they're even yours or if they got muddled up with someone else's embarrassingly outspoken kid on the postnatal ward.

You see, life just takes on this whole other dimension when you throw kids into the mix. They'll amaze you, they'll leave you speechless and they'll definitely embarrass you. Regularly.

Kids just have this totally unconventional way of viewing the world.

Tipping a bowl of lunch over your head when you're a kid is standard dinner table etiquette, and what else are you meant to do with it anyway?

And when they're not tipping soup over their heads, they're stuffing cheese sandwiches into their toy cars. As you do....

When times are stressful, like when you're stuck on public transport in a traffic jam, yelling "COME ON MR POTATO HEAD!!" to the bus driver seems like the reasonable thing to do, right?

Don't get me wrong, though they might be feisty little lunatics, they're far from stupid.
Somehow, at the age of 2, my son is well informed on the female anatomy. And when better to show off his knowledge than at the nursery's summer BBQ:

"Look mummy, it's a boobie!" (Whilst pointing at the nipple-like end of a balloon...)

However, they don't always use those incredible little brains to think before doing things. They're not at all afraid to climb head first into a tiny space before considering whether they'll be able to get back out of said space. (Like that time my son managed to wedge his head in the sink hole of his wooden play kitchen...Nice one.)

So, as you can imagine- Parenthood is pretty weird.

The other day, my two year old son wandered into the kitchen and, I kid you not, he said:

"Babe! I need a tea please!"

Erm..what? Tea? Babe? WTF?

But it doesn't stop there. In actual fact, this is pretty low down on my 1 to 10 scale of bizarre encounters I've had since becoming a mum.

Once, I was in a really lovely deep sleep and from my deep sleep I could hear the chanting of "I've got a bogie and it's stuck!" over and over and over again. I was sure I must have been dreaming (slightly weird thing to dream about, I know) but nope, there he was, stood at my bedside with a truly puzzled look upon his face due to his 5am nostril related crisis.

And do you know why I'm not even phased by this?

Because my life since motherhood has become all sorts of "abnormal."

Because twice a week, I join in with saying "good morning" to the snails on the walk to nursery.

Because the other day, I discovered a load of crumbs in my back pocket of my jeans and, instead of thinking "wtf" or "yuck", I was more interested in whether they were toast related crumbs or whether they were in fact grains of sand from the local play park. Because either option was totally possible.

Because I was once reduced to tears by a discarded rice cake. To be fair I had literally just hoovered.

Because every single night I find something unexpected in my bed. Sometimes, it's just a toddler who's escaped his cot-bed and ventured into mummy's big cosy bed without mummy knowing, other times its a whole lot weirder. You know- like a welly boot, or a plastic carrot, or half a custard cream. Once, I even found a nice concoction of things stuffed inside my pillowcase. Said pillowcase housed a 50 pence piece, a couple of pebbles from the beach, a dirty sock and the missing door from Postman Pat's van...

Because I often enter into disagreements with someone who wants toast but doesn't want it toasted, and I've actually believed for a moment that said person could be reasoned with. Wrong.

Because telling someone to "stop licking the mirror" is a serious request and there's little-to-nothing funny about it when I've already asked a hundred times, only to be ignored and subjected to more mirror drool.

Because I've worked myself into a panic upon discovering that our library books are late back, and I've felt like a naughty teenager ever since.  #ForeverARebel

Because I've found myself humming along to cartoon theme tunes, and even when I've realised that I'm humming a kids tv tune, I've probably continued to hum along to it anyway. And on that note, I've also developed some sort of love-hate relationship with the likes of "SpongeBOG scare pants" (Spongebob Squarepants incase you didn't get the memo!) Most of the time, I really hate the annoying yellow spongey fucker, other times I'm thanking god for his existence since he allows me an extra 20 minutes of snooze time in the morning every now and then.


Because finding half a regurgitated sausage down the side of the sofa cushions no longer shocks me. And because I'm thankful for the fact that it was just a sausage and nothing worse.

Because, on more than one occasion, I've found myself stepping over a human wrapped inside a rug pretending to be a hotdog, and instead of being weirded out, I was strangely proud of his developing imagination and creativity (and then it pissed me off because, you know, it's irritating after the first time, and I never envisaged spending my life re-positioning a rug numerous times a day and arguing about said rug with a child who truly believes that they are a hotdog.)


And the strangest part of it all?

Is that you'll find yourself moaning about the newborn stage and how hard it is, only to find yourself longing for that same newborn baby back 6 months later.

And you'll do the same when they reach toddlerhood- you'll tell everybody you can't stand the terrible twos and you'll think to yourself  "roll on school" only to find yourself welling up when it dawns upon you that actually school isn't so far off and you'll suddenly think  " Where's my baby gone?" 

OH wait, there he is- wrapped inside the rug, in full hot-dog attire......  *Sigh*