It’s nice to be nice…

Well what a day it’s been…you know those days that you initially think will be pretty straightforward and uneventful that turn into the most exhausting days ever?  Yeah…one of those.  All I had planned was a phone call from Radio Shetland (Yip, I’m in Radio now too.  Not just once, but TWICE today.) and a trip to the chiropractor.  But somewhere in between the two, shit got tiring.

The Tiny One is of the opinion that I am to blame for his sore gums and has taken to hitting me while I try to rock him to sleep.  Obviously, I have to rock him while standing.  Sitting is what bad mums do.  And should I stop the rocking, or sit for a moment, the whole process starts from scratch.  The eyes are back to wide open.  All good work has been undone.

We are also experimenting with solids.  So every nappy is a sort of poop Russian Roulette.  Do I do this one myself and get dad to change the next one, or is this the one that’s more likely to look like a cross between Angel Delight (Butterscotch Flavour), caramel sauce and peas?  And smell like…well…actual human faeces.  None of the inoffensive baby poo anymore.  He’s pulling out the big guns.

So yes, after an experimental lunch on the sitting room floor in his Bumbo seat, we headed for a shower.  Because there simply are not enough baby wipes in the world for a mealtime with this kid.  So far I have opted to strip him down to his nappy.  But I’m beginning to think that perhaps I should be stripping off too.  I imagine it would be slap bang in the middle of a naked lunch that one of those wonderful unexpected visitors would arrive.  Who doesn’t love them??  (Me, for the record.  I don’t.  I love visitors when I’ve had enough notice to pretend that I don’t live in a cess pit. And when I’m not naked while offering my child cucumber dipped in something squishy.)

Showers done and somehow it’s 3pm.  Where did that come from?  So it’s time to try to track down Daddio and ask him to take the Wriggly One while I get a prodding from the completely delightful chiropractor.  Daddio has, obviously, decided that he’s keeping his phone on silent.  So I now have to juggle baby and prodding at the same time.  Thankfully, Shetland Chiropractic is the most wonderfully warm and welcoming environment I have ever entered.  So instead of the cold hard stares I’ve had in other places when arriving with an unexpected Littley, I got big smiles, lots of lovely (non judgemental) questions and a warm cup of tea.  They also apologised for running late.  I LOVE IT when people who make me tea are running late.  I can then drink it and not fold washing at the same time.  It was like a little holiday from reality.

Just before Joanna (who is like a human ray of sunshine sent to make everyone a little happier) came to get me for my appointment, a mother entered with two teenage boys.  She smiled at me and said, “this is what he’ll turn into, you know!”  I smiled and laughed, silently thinking “oh crap, you’re right!”  But the next thing I know, these teenage boys start pulling faces and playing with the Milk Addict while he laughs and giggles like it’s the best comedy he’s ever seen.  And all of a sudden I realise that some teenage boys are wonderful.  And this place is wonderful.  And today is wonderful.

After my appointment with the (also wonderful) Joanna, I head down to the car.  I’m doing my usual trying not to drop the sprog while walking downstairs, carrying assorted bits of paper and the changing bag.  I get to the car and attempt the one-handed bag search to find my keys.  I start dropping things, and desperately try not to also drop the Sleep Thief while I pick them up.  About 5 perfectly fit and healthy people are standing around near the car doing nothing.  I think to myself as I’m scrabbling on the ground to pick up bits of paper, “How embarrassing, one of those people is going to come and help me in a minute!”  It’s always a bit uncomfortable accepting help from strangers, but I quite clearly could do with some.

A few moments later I’m reaching exasperation point.  I’m sweating profusely, the car keys are doing an incredible impression of not being in the changing bag and the Little Dictator has started to cry.  Yet, bizarrely, nobody has come to offer any assistance what-so-ever.  I finally locate my keys, get us both in the car and take some deep breaths.  I’ve never been able to pass someone who is in that kind of predicament.  In fact, I suspect I’ve annoyed people with my ill-timed over helping.  But I’d rather be too helpful than ignore struggling strangers.  I’m a great believer in just generally being a nice person.  Not ignoring sweaty mums who have dropped pictures of their spine in the car park while holding a mini human.

It is at this moment that Daddio finally calls me back.  He meets me at the car dealership to return the test drive and is generally lovely about my desire for a special edition model (which I only really want because of he colour) knowing he will have to fit the bill for it during my last 3 months of maternity leave when they come around.  I am again reminded that the world is a wonderful place and a bit of the ice queen melts away once more.  After a chat with the salesman about the lease terms we wave goodbye to the lovely shiny car that doesn’t smell like mouldy crisps and head off in our rust bucket to collect the eldest from Out of School Club.  Daddio takes charge and arrives back with a child who is very excited to tell me all about his School Trip to Tesco (I shit you not).  Thankfully, we don’t have to take the shine off his special outing by going there twice in one day, as Daddio offers us a restaurant dinner as a treat.  There is an immediate request to “Sit in at the Indian” from the back of the car, so we duly head to the Ghurka Kitchen so we can facilitate his hunger for Poppadoms with that amazing raw onion stuff.

We have just ordered when we overhear the owner on the phone to their card machine company.  It sounds like he’s getting some of the worst customer service ever and I give Daddio the nod.  This is his area of expertise.  He is Mr Paymentsense.  He is all about the merchant services.  He can hook up an EPOS system to a card terminal while checking up on your PCI compliance all at the same time…I think…it’s something like that anyway.  Now, because I am marrying a DECENT HUMAN he goes over to the counter and offers to help the owner out.  By the time we are halfway through our starters, which is about the same time it takes me to shoogle the Teething One to sleep, he is back and a little pleased that he has been able to help.  Now, you see what happened there?  My other half heard someone struggling and he HELPED.  Job done.

Now, as if that wouldn’t have been enough to restore my faith in human kindness, there was one more act of loveliness coming my way.  After we have stuffed ourselves with absolutely delicious food, Daddio heads over to pay.  The owner, with a now fully functioning card machine, opts to turn down our card and give us our meal for free.  And nothing makes me happier than free food.  Except knowing that we were given free food in exchange for a good turn.  Because it’s just so bloody fantastic when people are just good to each other.

And now, as I am lying in bed, still full of afore-mentioned yumminess, I feel pretty good about the world.  The petition I wrote has been picked up on by the press.  My blog has had over 1000 views (I still can’t actually get my head round that).  My offspring are asleep.  And my dear friends and relatives are sharing my success around.  It’s a fairly awesome time to be me.  Well, in between night feeds, slaps in the face, booby twists, hair pulling and screaming fits it is…

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4 thoughts on “It’s nice to be nice…

  1. Love it. Keep them coming Becky! I can totally relate. I think I have to show everyone I’m managing so very well, particularly because there are two and I’m clearly super human. While inside I’m screaming please please please someone offer to get the door for me!! I’m driving a bus for God’s sake! Usually ends up with me getting well and truly stuck before someone chuckles and comes to my rescue. Better late than never. Cheers.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I honestly don’t know how you do it. I get stuck in every doorway I come to with a one child wagon. You’re an actual legend for leaving the house.
      Glad you’re enjoying them…feels good to be back behind the keyboard.

      Like

  2. Thanks for that, restores my faith in humanity. Had a talk with my daughter at the weekend. She’s moved to Edinburgh for college, and she’s been shocked at how her new friends try to dissuade her from helping. Helping is human, to ignore someone in need is selfish.
    Re teenage boys, you’ve done youth work, you know even the “tuffest” teens have hearts of gold.

    Liked by 1 person

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