Today I Chucked a Mummy Mental

Kids have tantrums. Mum's have the equivalent. It's called a Mummy Mental. I am sure you have either witnessed one of these acts in progress or been the bearer of a Mummy Mental.

We had a rather crap interesting Easter Sunday. We are all recovering from Bronchilititis and I was feeling spectacularly sh*thouse after taking two Nurofen Cold and Flu. That stuff used to be the shiz for me. It used worked a treat. I don't know what happened but now it has me passing out with tiredness and drooling like a teething child. Drowsy much? Totally.

This morning I told the children to go outside and eat their chocolate. There are bags of the stuff. My approach when it comes to Easter is to eat it all NOW. Eat it quick and be done with it. I don't want to see it anymore. I don't want to be picking up goddamn foil wrappers for the next 6 months. It's like limiting the damage. It's a shit few days but you get over it and I go back to being a chocolate stingy for the other 362 days of the year.

I went to change a nappy or something. Turn my back for 2 minutes. I look around. There is chocolate everywhere. Smudged on the lounge. Half chewed and spat out chocolate on the floor. The bi-fold windows which get cleaned every 12 months or when we just can't see out of them anymore (which ever comes first), had smears of chocolate all over them. I cleaned them 2 days ago. NOT HAPPY. I hate cleaning. Make me clean unnecessarily and I will be pissed. There is no turning back.

The Mummy Mental was brewing, my eyes glaze over. I start to shake. And then it unleashed.

It goes something like this "AHHHHHHH GRRRRRR HISSSSSSSSSS RAANNNNNTTT" I try not to swear in front of the children but this is a difficult task when I have my cranky pants on.

Now the Mummy Mental occurs when the Shit-I-Can-Handle spectrum reaches complete f*cking overload and the little ticker launches into outerspace. Seeing chocolate smudged in all forms all over my clean house is about as much as I can handle.

The Mummy Mental has the children begging for mercy and screaming that I LOVE YOU MUMMM!!!!! It is a force to be reckoned with. The only way to turn it off is to leave the house.  Eat very badly. Knock down a bottle of Vodka.  Scream at your husband or take a long shower.

So I took a shower. Yelled at my husband and ate some waffles drowning in Maple Syrup. Or did I eat Maple Syrup drowning in waffles. Not sure. I felt better. And the Shit-I-Can-Handle spectrum was reset and normality returned.

This is not me. This is another Mother having a Mummy Mental. Or so she thinks. This is not a Mummy Mental, rather a mild case of the shits (she looks too good and her face isn't red from screaming).