Picking up the pieces

Somehow or other, I managed to pull myself out of the trench. It took  the help of a hibernatory nap, some good friends who I can see regardless of the state of my face, an understanding other half, a few hugs from my quite sweet really kids and a couple of bottles of wine.

What really did it was turning up unannounced and in a state to Reprobate Kate’s house on a Sunday afternoon, where, despite the glorious sunshine and the late hour, she and her daughter were still undressed, her flat looking like a bomb had  exploded. Despite being sniffly myself, I realised that sympathy wasn’t going to be forthcoming from fuming Kate, who was up to her eyeballs in what had been some explosive experimental wardrobe annihilation from Lola.

I found it within myself to mop up my own misery and do something nice for someone who was clearly in a worse mood than me. Whatever else may be plaguing me, when all is said and done, I had, at that moment, a tidier bedroom than Kate.

It’s easy to be calm with someone else’s kids. Kate was only doing what I had been doing to my own only moments before (ie. screaming bloody murder),  but it’s much easier to be objective when you’re not the one who has to clear up the mess, unpick the behaviour and analyse where you might have gone wrong.

I helped Lola get dressed in her own clothes, rather than experimenting with Kate’s, promised to take her over the road for churros if she finished her lunch, and with Kate able to take a breather and sort herself out, I headed back out to face my own family, who only moments before I’d refused to go to a restaurant with because I was dissolving with tears in the car.

It was Tom’s fault, as usual – except that it never really is. But it was his decision to ban consoles that morning  that had swiftly disintegrated into first Jonah, then me having a meltdown.

It never pays to make big changes to Jonah’s freedoms, (or mine for that matter) and our liberalism with computer games is testament to the fact that digital wizardry  makes life better, in many ways, for all of us. Yes, it’s a cop out, we’ve made a rod blah blah, but I work full time, and Jonah enjoys them so bite me. But even we had to admit that Jonah’s Minecraft obsession was becoming all consuming.

The unexpected ease with which we detached boy and DS2 was, unsurprisingly, shortlived. Investigating the lull upstairs, I went into Jonah’s room to find him with his toys laid out in neat rows. Nothing surprising there. A lot of Jonah’s real life games involve lining things up and ordering them.

This one got me. Rather than playing it on the computer, Jonah had turned his toys into a real life Clash of Clans battle – another of the games that has got his attention at the moment. So much for banning computer games. he merely made life imitate, well, art of a sort. It was quite something to behold.

Unlike the digital version, the detritus of battle isn’t quite so contained. The game, which began like this:

swiftly became toy town Armageddon. But even the state of his room didn’t get me too hot and bothered. I was just pleased to see him playing with stuff,  rather than frantically sweeping things on his touch screen.

It was, like so many other tantrums, the result of a myriad causes: the amount of persuasion it took to get them both to unstack the dishwasher. The complaints about the plate of eggy bread  which Tom had cooked just the way they like. The fact I’d picked up Jonah’s pyjamas from the floor  after the third time of asking him. Ava’s refusal to communicate except by miaowing. Tom doing a stack of helpful jobs EXCEPT the one I wanted him to do.

When we were finally ready to leave the house, I didn’t know whether I was coming or going, and by the time we got in the car, I was having a panic attack about walking round the supermarket. Hence, the last minute plan to ditch shopping and eat out instead, which when it came to it, I was blubbing too much in anger at myself to want to get out.

Luckily, we’d parked right outside Kate’s apartment, so rather than go home and take an overdose, it seemed an entirely more sensible proposition to see Kate for tea instead. Except she was having a worse Sunday than me. At least it was only Jonah’s room that was a mess. Kate’s got a lot more going on than clothes on the floor. Finally I was able to take a deep breath. Sometimes it’s easier to deal with someone else’s mess than to  try and sort out your own,

I took Lola across the road to the chicken place where Tom had taken the kids. No one said anything about me turning up with Lola. They made no mention of the fact that I’d been gone for a while. We all just pretended nothing had happened. When Kate turned up dressed, no longer spitting, in the park some hour and a half later, no one blinked an eyelid either. Sometimes it pays to have kids who really don’t care where you are as long as someone’s buying them doughnuts for pudding. Or maybe, it’s just a bit sad they’re are so used to adult tantrums they’ve learned to ignore them. But then, it’s okay to learn early that we all have bad days where we don’t cope.

So, in the spirit of looking on the bright side, today marks this blog’s one year anniversary. In that time, I’ve written for three global publications, had 15,000 views, started blogging for Huff Post and made the front page for Mumsnet three times in a row. It’s worth staying positive for, in any case.