'It serves them right.'

So, it's been a while since I've written my blog and I feel a 'owe' a few entries. This is partly due to a spate of insomnia and partly because I stayed at my Mum's for a while and didn't have a laptop. Anyway, luckily I still have plenty of material, due to the farcical nature of many of my days. 

I'll start with my experience at Nationwide last weekend. It came upon me that I had to do one of those really boring jobs that you always dread, and especially when you have two very small children. I still remember my conversation with the guy on the phone: 'you mean I have to go into the branch? But.... can't I send the form in...? (which I would never have done, incidentally)... I have two small children...?' No point explaining. It was one of those experiences where you meet a dead-end when trying to explain to the guy at the other end how trying it can be going anywhere with two little ones and exactly why, and shouldn't mothers get a kind of dispensation for this kind of thing? I felt his ears glazing over.

Anyway, I went Saturday morning. Since I've recently explained to Michael that if he wants jobs like this doing, then they will be be on Saturday and Saturday only, when I can take either just one, or preferably neither, of the children. Somehow, the idea to most people of a stay-at-home mother (I hate the term) conjurs up images of endless cups of tea, a bit of daytime TV, a lot of free time and perhaps a snooze on the sofa or a leisurely walk around the park. So I have to impress upon my other half that life is not, quite, like this.

So I arrived at Nationwide with one child in tow, Isaac (now around 8 and half months by the way). As we drove off into the sunrise in the morning, I thought how nice this actually was. I stuck on the radio and listened to some nice (that word again) tunes. On arrival, I lifted Isaac out at the car park (and he's been a dream on the journey which is no usual thing) and I smell poo. 'Isaac', I askded, 'Do you need a nappy change?'. 'Yes', was his silent reply. Hmmm. Obstacle One. 

I got to the Bank. Now, Nationwide is supposed to be excellent for customer service. They even have one of those machines that dispenses all kinds of coffee and hot chocolate in the waiting area by the sofas. So I queued up, explained my predicament both about why I was there and about Isaac's full nappy, and enquired about toilets. 'Sorry, love, we do have customer toilets but they're upstairs and there's no one free to take you up.' Right. I decided to postpone the nappy change then. About two minutes into the ensuing conversation about how to change the name on my account (guess what? not as straight forward as the guy on the phone had made it seem), I felt the familiar sensation of a very warm and very large gush of wee spreading, unstoppably, all over my stomach. I was wearing my usual carrier, with Isaac strapped to me... so it was inside the carrier as well. And all over the floor. Quite a large puddle, really. Peppa Pig would have liked to splash in it.

'Erm', I said. 'Has anyone got a bit of kitchen roll? My baby's just done a wee on the floor'? Rather mortifying, I felt. Alas, it drew something of a blank response. 'Don't worry', I shouted back, 'I've got wipes'. Which I didn't though, when I actually went to look in my bag. Which should have, and usually does have, wipes. Michael! I screamed internally. Because in that moment I had to blame someone. What did it matter that it had actually been me who had left the wipes somewhere last time I went out? An immaterial detail.

So I sat on the sofa in the waiting area and the guy opposite me (a new dad) started asking all about the Ergobaby carrier. I enthusiastically relayed all the good points about it, Saleswoman style, and then talked All Things Parent. I told him about the wee on the floor and how embarrassing it all was, and he said 'serves them right for not having toilets.' Well, this was a new way of looking at it, I thought, perhaps a more male perspective. And actually, yes, the punishment did seem to rather 'fit the crime.'

Anyway, since it transpired that what I was trying to do at the bank (change my surname on the account and set up one for Isaac) was looking tricky, and the birth certificate, marriage certificate and passport which I had in hand did not suffice, I decided to go next door to the cafe while they tried to sort it. 

Next door, at the cafe, there was no baby change. So, on a cold tiled floor, with no wipes, I attempted to change and clean baby Isaac and his rather large poo. The tissue paper that I used was not entirely successful, since it ended up balling into small pieces and sticking on his skin (there's a reason that wipes are so popular). Still, it would have to do. 

When I got back to the branch, they had actually managed to do the name change. But of course, this didn't mean that I could open Isaac's account, as I'd been informed on the phone. It would mean a phone call (agggh) and (horror) another trip to the branch, in person. Brilliant, I thought. I tried to explain to him at the window how difficult it was to bring both children in, etc, but I just met a polite understanding and the fact that it would take 48 hours for the computer to update. The poor guy was looking behind me at the lenghtening queue. 

Anyway, I made sure I poured myself that free hot chocolate on my way out. Even if it did mean walking to the car with a scolding hot drink, which I really didn't need, amongst the other paraphernalia that a baby necessitates. I'll have that, Nationwide, I thought. 

Gracie's phrase for the day: (whilst lying on the floor) 'Mummy, you are a bit tall.'