A Guest Post by A Reluctant Mummy


As parents we make many rookie mistakes. These mistakes can leave us sobbing like a baby, pulling our hair out in frustration, or longing for the ground to open up and swallow us.


Eventually after enough time has passed we stop rocking in the corner, we are able to laugh about them.  This series is dedicated to the honest parents who admit they sometimes often get it wrong.  After all, I have yet to meet a Pintrest perfect parent in the actual flesh.


Every Wednesday I feature a post from a fantastic guest blogger about their funny and insightful parenting fails.  


Rookie Misrtakes Large



This weeks guest post comes from Sasha who blogs at A Reluctant Mummy.  


A Reluctant Mummy


Bath & Bed


On Thursday I broke Monster Major out of nursery early, to go for a date. I took him for a pizza and he behaved like a true gentleman… until he decided it was the correct etiquette to lick his babyccino rather than drink it.


Having clearly become overconfident, I picked Monster Minor up early too. Then I got the dreaded phone call. The phone call that stay at home mums, no, scrap that, EVERY mum fears. The husband dearest ‘I’ll be late home tonight, lovie’ phonecall. FOR.GOODNESS SAKE. THE ABSOLUTE COTTONHEADEDNINNYMUGGINS. And much worse besides.


It’s ok, I thought, I got this. Two little ones. Bath and bed. How hard can it be?


Up the stairs we went, in a cheery, sing-song, Mary Poppins fashion. Unfortunately, this image of parental competence was where it ended, as a foul aroma began to emanate from Monster Minor’s backside. Got him onto the changing mat. And I kid you not. He had projected his rancid faeces out of the premium-brand nappy, up his chunky little back, across his body-builder shoulders and DOWN. HIS. F@*~$@$. ARMS. I should have taken a photo to prove that this description is no hyperbole.


Whilst trying to keep hold of Monster Minor to avoid further deification smearing, as well as trying to safeguard myself against any rogue poo particles, I frantically searched for wipes. The most necessary thing  for any mother of littlies. The thing you use to polish the windowsills, wipe up carefully home-cooked, organic stews, clean yourself when you’re too shattered to shower (for the third day running), and, most importantly, unpoo your child. And what did I come to find? Rookie mistake. No sodding wipes. No. wipes. How have we no bloody wipes!?




In a beautiful flash of epiphany, I remembered there was a pack of wipes on the bed in our room. And, excellent, Monster Major was in there!

“Darling, could you bring me the wipes please?”

“Yeah…. roarrrrrr”

Holding the writhing ball of excrement, I waited.


“Please bring Mummy the wipes, lovie, your brother has done lots of poo poo”





Cursing my monsters, and obviously husband dearest, I grabbed Monster Minor – consequently rubbing crap all over myself – and marched in to get the blasted baby wipes myself.

“Mummy, I roared at Marfa.”

Yes, now get lost, you useless child.


Fast forward a poonami clear up, a relatively curse free bath time, and two boys in clean pjs, I felt quite accomplished. I read Monster Major a bedtime story, whilst Monster Minor happily crawled around my feet, and together we were the picture of happy mummy – happy children. I felt like The Pussycat Dolls when they sang ‘I Don’t Need a Man’. Except with more body fat and more grey hair. And, presumably they didn’t have human waste on their cardigans.


Monster Major snoozily tucked up, I settled down in my bed to give Monster Minor his bedtime feed. This is my favourite part of the day. A cuddly feed that only I can give him, whilst he falls asleep in my arms. It’s the stuff sickening baby product adverts are made of.


Five minutes in, a little sicky burp. Oh well, I can just mop that up later. Then, a little coughy sick. I decided I’d need to wipe that one up as I felt the vom trickle down my boobs onto my belly. I laid him down so I was able to grab a muslin. And in that moment, I committed a cardinal sin. The second rookie mistake. Only I’m not a rookie, I should know better. The first rule of sicky babies: DON’T LIE THEM DOWN. What I saw next will remain emblazoned on my brain forever. A jet-stream fountain of milky spew projected from my freshly-bathed child, shot half a metre upwards, then returned down to cover his unexpecting face and my bed.


I grabbed Monster Minor as he began to scream. I guess vomit must sting when it descends and pools into your eyeballs. I stripped him off, stripped myself off, and threw our clothes to the floor, leaving puddles of beige fluid on our bedroom carpet. I managed to get us both dry and dressed again, and set to work on mopping up the pools of puke from the new bedding, before it soaked through to the mattress. Monster Minor began to get impatient at this point, so I discarded the sour-smelling towels onto the floor, among the damp sick patches. As I settled, naked and stinking, into a chair to finish of Monster Minor’s feed, I heard Husband Dearest’s key in the door.


Up the stairs (quietly, thank God, we’d be divorced if he’d have woken Monster Major), through the bedroom door, and stood straight in a lumpy mess of regurgitated baby food.


Would it be bad if I said that was my happiest moment of bedtime?


About Sasha:

A Reluctant MummyMy blog is the ramblings of my muddled, sleep deprived, pureed spag-bol splattered mind. I am, like many other reluctant/disheveled/shit-stained mummies, blogging in an attempt to discover some semblance of order, as I wade through the cloudy, noisy (oh, the noisiness), ‘characterful’ world of raising mini-monsters.

I am a very unyummy mummy – sorrowfully going days between showers and sniff-testing clothes. I’m raising two semi-feral toddlers of the male variety and attempting to work as a teacher.


You can follow Sasha’s blog A Reluctant Mummy on facebook and twitter.


Does your bath and bed routine always go to plan?


You can read previous guest posts from the Rookie Mistakes series here.


If you are a blogger and wish to take part in the series you can find out more here.


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Claire Kirby

6 Comments on Rookie Mistakes – Bath & Bed

  1. Oh dear Lord, that was the mother of all disastrous bedtimes!!!!! I also curse and blame my husband for absolutely everything that goes wrong! I even do it not just when he’s late home, but if we are at the shops and the children are being monsters, I’ll text him and let him know it’s all his fault!! Luckily my children were never sicky, so we never experienced any awful sick related incidents, but I did nod in agreement that my husband stepping in it would’ve put a smug smile on my face too! We did have an awful poo incident once when my husband was on lates, and my eldest did a runny poo in the bath. I scooped the littlest out quickly, rinsed him in the sink and quickly dressed him. The oldest was plastered and needed another bath to get cleaned properly. I didn’t notice while I was frantically cleaning the bath, that poo was still pouring from him onto the floor… I was a sobbing mess by the time my husband arrived!!

  2. Oh man, I feel your pain. We have had a lot of sick in our bed/on our bedroom floor scenarios. Always covering at least one parent, of course. Thankfully our poonamis (so far) haven’t been quite as bad as that one!! #FridayFrolics

  3. Oh lol lol – very good! I have 4 and I bath them all in one go but I once gave it over to the mother in law which was mighty amusing – If I ever need a good laugh i’ll get her round at bath time again. #fridayfrolics

  4. AAAAGGGHHHH Sasha/Claire; excellent post; I was just back in a very dark place remembering those times…poo and vomit disasters!! What freakin nightmares!! Slowly edging clear of those days. #fridayfrolics

  5. This is worse than any experience we’ve had. I had to read it twice! However, we’ve just had another so plenty of time to get covered in poo. #rookiemistakes

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