Normally I go to the vets of an evening, on my own, without the kids.


Today, I had to do it with the dog and the kids. The vet only had one appointment:10:30 am. It couldn't be that bad, could it? The minute Travis, our dog, gets out of the poxy car, he barks. Non-stop. 


Of course, everyone stares.


Meanwhile, I've got Grayson hanging onto me for dear life while I’m trying my best to hold him on my hip. Kellan doesn't want to hold my hand because it's his birthday.


He's asking to see the baby rabbits (guineapigs) and Grayson is just running around following Kellan because that's what he does. Just when I managed to round up my troops, the dog darts off, followed by my boys. Clutching everyone, I climb the stairs. The dog starts barking again right into the face of another petrified dog.  


Everyone who works there knows Travis. When the vet walks out he looks as if to say – god, not the demon dog. Look, he is a good dog. No, his a brilliant dog. But for whatever reason, as soon as his in the bloody vets, he starts.


Anyway, another £50 down, the dog's ear still no better. The vet tells me that if these drops don’t work (he has been on drops for 2 weeks) then the dog has got to have a full allergy test. A flupping allergy test. I bought a hypoallergenic dog, for my kids who suffer from eczema and a husband to be who suffers from allergies and hay fever, to be told that my hypoallergenic dog may be allergic to “something” and to be put on hypoallergenic food. You can’t make this sh*t up.


By this point, I am sweating. Trying to control the dog and the kids.  Back down the poxy stairs, again made it down without breaking my neck. Grayson is back on my hip, Kellan is running back in "because Travis NEEDS another squeaky toy". No Kellan. No, he does not.


I look like a stressed version of Dora the Explorer with my trusty rucksack on my back. I had to push my way through people and lines because they clearly couldn’t hear my pleas for them to move ever so slightly out of my way. I then make it outside. Phew!


As I made my way across the road, a woman gives me this sympathetic look, the look to say. You poor cow. I hadn’t had a great morning to be fair, I feel like I’m all over the place at the moment. That one look, honestly nearly bought me to tears. As I got closer she said “oh love, are you ok? do you need some help?” I had visions of accepting her wonderful offer of help, and letting her hold Travis but then I also had visions of this older lady being literally pulled through the air by the dog. I kindly declined and thanked her.


Then, she said, "god, you’ve really got your hands full". I just stood there and thought, yes, I have got my hands full, and you know, maybe the receptionist could of helped me to the car, or the two workers chatting to themselves could have offered to give me a had, but then, why should they? They are my kids, my handful. But I'd offer to help anyone I could.


When I loaded us all into the car, I just sighed, put my glasses down and closed my eyes for 5 minutes. I thought about her words, those five little words that made everything seem slightly easier. 'Do you need some help?" 


Sometimes we do. Sometimes it is hard on your own. Her sympathy and concern made me feel less alone. And I was extremely grateful. 


The rest of the day was an even bigger roller coaster. I took the kids to the shops, but do you know what, I can’t even bring myself to write about it, because I’m sure you can imagine! 


Anyone else have days like these? Days you just want to lie down and cry or sleep? Motherhood is hard and us parents are seriously badass. 

Stay at home mummy of two boys aged four and two. Wife to be. I'm a coffee lover and Disney fanatic just trying my best at parenting.

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