Mum life unfiltered – an evening out to the theatre

It was an exciting, rare evening out to look forward to – I was finally getting myself out for a night at the theatre with some friends! Fiddler on the Roof beckoned, and on the day itself, my excitement grew as the evening got closer.

Of course, preparing to go out involved somewhat different parameters to my previous pre-mum incarnation when all I had to concern myself with was an insouciant flick of mascara to apply, a relaxing ponder as to which pleasant novel I should throw in my bag to read on the Tube ride in and a casual light supper to be consumed gracefully.

Instead here’s what happened:

Three children 6 and under need homeworking, supping, bathing, teethbrushing, toilettraining, pyjamaring all by 6.50pm (by which time hubbie promises faithfully to return home) if they are to go to bed on time and I am to leave on time and make it for 7.30 show start in Charing Cross.

Throw myself into wildly efficient mum mode the minute we get home from school.  First fatal error: Decide to make not-simple and not-remotely-quick butternut squash soup for supper. Cue efficient yet slightly frenzied chopping of mountains of vegetables. Knife gets helplessly stuck in tough rogue swede and as I attempt to remove it, blade and handle of knife wish each other adieu and various small perilously sharp segments of blade shower down on the kitchen floor.

Furiously usher three barefooted children out of danger zone, and intensely sweep across kitchen floor. In spite of careful methodical sweeping action, am nevertheless left with lurking feeling that I *may* have missed one particularly small particularly sharp knife segment.

Put lurking fear out of my mind and continue relentlessly on with evening activities.

It is now gone 6.30pm and as the minutes towards my departure time tick by, I start feeling somewhat out of control. Am still wearing stained grubby clothing smelling of cooking and unable to imagine ever actually extricating myself from this scenario and exiting house.

Then everything really kicks off. 2yo who is in process of being toilet trained suddenly cries out “I need a poo!” (she has, to date, very limited success rate of reaching toilet seat in time for said event to take place). At the exact same second as these immortal words leave her lips, 5yo suddenly screams “I’m bleeding!” and starts howling.

Not knowing which way to turn – poo or blood? blood or poo? – I throw 2yo on toilet, hoping and praying we’ve got there in time. But no, we are a millisecond too late and poo is already issuing forth. No time to see where poo has landed, I run over to see what grievous injury 5yo has incurred and step squarely into poo already landed on floor next to toilet.

No time to deal with poo-ridden shoe, nor poo on floor scenario. I deshoe without further ado and hop over to screaming 5yo.

Blood is pouring forth from the sole of her foot. She has stepped on something sharp. Yes, indeed, she has stepped on that missing, invisible to the naked eye, phantom piece of broken knife shard.

ACT FIVE:

Scroll forward 45 minutes. I arrive huffing and panting in dirty, soup-scented clothing at theatre doors at 7.30 on the dot. Cannot believe I have arrived on time. Rush inside. To my utter sorrow, usher informs me it is too late to get to my seat in time for the start of the show.

Utterly bathetic anti-climax as I watch rousing opening number TRADITION!!! TRADITION!!!! on lowly TV screen in deserted theatre bar with a handful of other hapless latecomers.

Song finishes and I’m finally allowed in. I grin sheepishly at my punctual friends, take a deep breath, sit back in my plush theatre seat and prepare to enjoy the show.

(PS The rest of the show was just amazing. Go see it. And yes, have no fear, 5yo’s cut was pretty superficial in the end).