Samantha Frogman, from Gainsborough, blew up at her sons, aged five and eight, 175 separate times in the 65 minutes it took to get them up out of bed and to school. In that time they had to get washed – several times, brush their teeth, have breakfast, get dressed, get in the car, go back into the house to fetch teddy and finally get to the school gates.
All of which created a very stressful 65 minutes for Samantha resulting in her blowing her top 175 times, a new record for Samantha who loses her shit 109 times on average each day.
She told The Sausage “I was in the zone. No sooner had I finished bollocking Peter for spilling Weetabix all over the rug I was dragging Paul to the sink for colouring his face bright red with my expensive lipstick.”
“I must have made at least 50 empty threats to take their Xbox and iPads off them while they got their uniforms on. And when they tried to put on each other’s shoes and coats as a joke I leveled up to a new level of parental rage. You know the one where it stops the little shits in their tracks making them stand upright and rooted to the floor. I think at one point I had thunderbolts firing out of my arsehole while steam was gushing from my ears”
“I’d also like to thank the traffic for making things worse, especially the elderly drivers who have all day to drive around slow but chose to go out at 8:15 in the morning smack bang in the middle of the chuffing school run! Thanks also go to Channel 5’s Milkshake for distracting the boys and slowing them down, and whatever arsehole at school who decided they had to bring in their PE kits, library books and a paper-mache model of the Eiffel Tower, all on the same chuffing day.”
Samantha spent the rest of the day drinking copious amounts of strong coffee and eating chocolates while lounging around on the sofa watching daytime TV and thumbing her way through magazines like Bella in preparation for the second school run when she has to fetch the boys from school.
“I cannot function for the rest of the day, I need the coffee and chocolate to calm my nerves… it’s either that or reaching for the gin or Prosecco, and as much as I need the alcohol I would be in no fit state to pick the boys up so I wait until they are home before hitting the sauce.”
“I do pour myself a glass before I leave to fetch the boys and have it waiting ready with a big bag of crisps on the kitchen table for my return. As soon as the little shits… I mean the little darlings are upstairs arguing over which one of them is Messi on FIFA 20 I slip into my slippers and a loving alcoholic haze.”