Twins, Blame and Exploding Poo

With Valentines brings overpriced flowers and the urge to purchase a card to tell your loved one just how much you love them, yet words are free. Hence this year as with the previous 9 years will be said with words and not flowers or an overpriced card.

Apportioning blame to a partner is often a taboo subject, no one really wants to admit they have fucked up and likewise your partner shouldn’t be so absurd to point this out. However everything in life happens for a reason and often Karma kicks in.

Any parent will be fully aware of the trauma that leaving the house presents with a young family, so with 3 children under the age of 5 this is a military process, with check after check to ensure that everything has been packed and for every possible outcome.

With a young family the changing bag is key addition and with a wife who likes the best of everything our first purchase was a very stylish leather bag which is designed around twins,

However, since the wallet destroyers now require less paraphernalia we have now moved onto a new stylish leather backpack, to be honest this is something even I feel comfortable wearing and I would honestly recommend this to any new parent.

However, what this bag is lacking is a GPS – find me addition, after 20 minutes in the car travelling to Chester I am asked by my wife did I pick up the backpack…….you mean the bag that you were wearing darling. Yes, did you pick it up?

Why would I pick up a bag that you were wearing, it’s a simple question and I wasn’t expecting for the answer, for a reason only a women can answer and probably understand is the bag was removed to allow easier access into the car to strap the children in, at this point I should have picked up said bag and packed bag into car.

Now, I don’t like to apportion blame but seriously, my wife has fucked up here.

So turning the 7 seat dream around and heading home to start off where we left earlier. My mood was set and the wife was clearly aware, Twin #2 at this point wasn’t happy and upon arriving in our designated parent and child space decide that an exploding shit was an appropriate way to explain her mood and frustration.

This is where Karma can bite you in the ass, after during a rapid change in the back, with Twin #1 safely tucked into the pram with Teddy keeping her entertained with a mixture of gun noises and quite frankly not sure what the fuck he was doing but she found it funny.

My wife was frantically looking for a sock which she couldn’t find, my mood was set and I entered the toxic scene, after a quick 15 seconds it would have been a good guess that the said missing stock would be inside her leggings which for some reason were lying away from Twin #2 and not where you would expect them to be with a mother trying to dress her child.

I grabbed said leggings and began to forcefully fist my hand into the leg pockets, at this point my wife started to squeak with laughter, my hand was now warm, and it was clear that my wife was now literally pissing herself.

The exploding shit had gone everywhere and now my right hand was full of baby shit. As a parent life doesn’t get much worse and this and with Karma, not matter what, where or how. It always catches you up!