look at the pink-ness of my skin here. I am not that colour today. RIP me.
This morning, I couldn't stand up without almost fainting. I say almost fainting, I had to dive back into bed (shouting at Elliot to MOVE PLEASE MUMMY NEEDS TO LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW) before I actually hit the floor. I had fuzzy ears and everything. Elliot sat in my bed with me laying there crying about whether I was ill or not, reading book after book after book until my mum finally took pity on me and took him downstairs.
Disclaimer: yes, I still live at home with my parents. Yes, I really did take advantage of that today and I've told my mum I love her more today than I have in probably the past five years. She missed Christmas Jumper Day at work for me and my jippy tummy. So much love for that woman.
Anyway, I've already cried in bed whilst Elliot read me Mr Tumble books. Then I managed to get downstairs, whilst actually looking like a Japanese horror character. I'm terrified of films like The Ring and The Grudge so imagine my fucking reaction when I look in the mirror and I'm deathly pale apart from the massive dark circles under my eyes. Sheer terror, that's what.
Other highlights from my day consist of: Elliot demanding to make me better by using his "doctor stuff" and wanting to syringe plastic medicine into my mouth but me not being able to bear it. He had to pretend to put a cannula in his own mother. Then he listened to my heart and told me "it not good, you need lie down." So I promptly fell asleep for a nap whilst my mum fed him. He decided that I needed a pillow over my face to sleep and plopped one on top of me. I slept under that pillow for a good hour. Woke up and "...has this pillow been here long then?"
The afternoon quickly turned into absolute chaos, I let him empty all the cars over the floor and they lined up for a race that never happened. Translate to: like fuck was I getting on the floor to be a Monster Machine. We honestly played the game "Mummy's Phone Has Disappeared Say Abracadabra And It Might Come Back" at least twenty times and in the end I reverted back to my old saviour, Cartoonito.
I'm proud to say I cooked him dinner, even though I was absolutely exhausted and had to have assistance mashing potatoes. It's hard work, okay. So I sat Elliot down for his dinner, coaxing him as usual to actually eat and not just stare at the wall/ceiling/telly and I fell asleep. The Bad Mum Club opened their arms and welcomed me in as I fell asleep watching my son eat mashed potato. The worst bit? He didn't even bloody notice! I woke up half an hour later, because I'd snored myself awake and he was still sitting there - still hadn't eaten any pissing mashed potato may I add! And it was nearly 7pm. Terrible work.
So, as you can guess from this massive self-deprecating rant, it's been a shit day. My mum, Fireman Sam and dry bread saved it. I count it as a complete write off, which hasn't actually happened since Elliot was about 13 months old and I had to call my mum home from work because I was being sick into a bowl whilst sitting on the toilet and Elliot had thrown rice pudding up all over himself.
Worst bit is the dinnertime nap I had has completely fucked up my early night, so I'm sat here moping all over it again! Ugh, bring on tomorrow.