Yeah, so... toilet training..this is fun...
If your idea of fun is sitting on the floor of your bathroom for hours on end with Husband chanting "DO A POO" at Boy who is situated on the loo like Prince Poo.
Having put off toilet training for quite a while with, quite honestly an amazing selection of excuses, I was really surprised Boy took to it so quickly. I was however, under the impression that it was going to be a fairly traumatic experience for all those involved, and even some who weren't. I was correct.
Still, 3 weeks on I am still trying to bribe Boy with multiple 'treats' to do a big poo on the toilet. He is still refusing my ingenious tactics in favour of shitting in his nappy..normally first thing in the morning.
This leads to the majority of my mornings beginning with the following sentence,
"Mummy, I have done a poo in my nappy..and it has leaked.."
Usually I have smelt the offender before he entered my room. I'd challenge anyone to 'start the day right' when the first thing you have to do is scrape poo of a childs back, his bed, his toys, the bedding, the carpet..and YOUR hands. BEFORE your morning coffee.
So far my favourite bribe has to be this one..
"Babe, if you do a really big poo, we will take a photo of it and send it to your Favourite Uncle."
"Yes Mummy, he will love that!"
Favourite Uncle is still waiting for his photo of Boys toilet christening.
Toilet training is not that bad, but I was really disappointed to discover that there is a price to pay for giving up nappies. Although financially better off, my nerves are shot. I can honestly say that some of the most frightening moments have been the result of the following words..
"Mummy theres a wee wee coming."
Its not the words themselves that shake me to the core its the usually highly inappropriate situation we are in.
Some examples;
In the changing rooms of a swimming pool..when I am completely naked. This resulted in me holding Boy over the nearest drain and telling him that this is not really how you go toilet.
From the back of the car, when I'm in the fast lane of the motorway, in heavy traffic, miles from an exit. "Too late Mummy.. wee wee in my pants"
Bugger.
This next one is from a good friend of mine who's daughter is the same age as Boy and is his "Best Friend". My friend locked herself out of the house and whilst waiting for her husband to come from work and let her in, her daughter announced that she needed a poo 'In that way they do when you KNOW they are not kidding'. So she had to knock on a neighbours door to ask. Simple you would think but no. Toddlers love to announce their bowel movements to anyone and everyone so my friend knew she would have to plan what she said carefully for fear of her daughter shouting to her elderly neighbour that she was HAVING A POO! Crisis averted.
At the Park. Where of course, there are no toilets. This one is simple..
"Just wee against the tree darlin'"
This always results in looks of disgust from passers by. To remedy this I find shouting "OH YOU'D RATHER MY CHILD WEED IN HIS PANTS AND BECAME SELF CONSCIOUS OF HIS ABILITIES TO URINATE WOULD YOU?? TOSSER!" Then by the time you have said this the person has run away in fear, your child has stopped weeing and you feel strangely calm.
Monday 21 May 2012
Wednesday 2 May 2012
Child Crufts
I went to a toddler group with a friend of mine today. I have a love hate relationship with toddler groups. I go because I feel I have to, that in some way I am letting Boy down if I don't attend them and they are basically mornings of organised chaos.
Whenever you have large groups of children there is inevitably fighting, tears, tantrums and Mumbiches.
A year ago I had to stop going to toddler groups as they were bad for my health. Boy would just go around hitting other children and stealing toys and shouting at me until I snapped and we left. Usually I would shove him into the car and cry my eyes out while telling him that if he kept this up he would never have friends. What I didn't add was that neither would I.
Toddler groups are a child Crufts, an opportunity to display your child and most importantly your parenting skills. I don't buy that shit. It has taken me a long time and some serious talking to's from my closest friend, to realise that Boy is normal, he's not a bad kid and I am NOT the worlds worst mother. Toddler groups did not aid my discovery. There is a very disturbing and unspoken underbelly of the Mothering World and in this post I am going to expose it for what it is.. a load of women bitching while their kids tear each others hair out.
Mums are split into different groups..
The Slummy Mummies. These are the women (normally with a new baby and a toddler) These poor women come to toddler groups to keep the older child occupied so they can feed the newborn in relative safety. They are most distinguishable by the fact they are still wearing maternity clothes 2 months after the birth. They also look like they are about to break if so much as a dirty nappy is pointed their way.
I mostly feel for these Mums but.. and its a big but.. They have a really annoying habit of not watching their toddler properly. This tends to result in someone else having to intervene when they go to stick play dough up their nose or steal another child's treasured piece of crap toy. The slummy Mummies are also at the bottom of the food chain which makes them easy prey for the MumBiches.
The Mumbiches. I do not like the Mumbiches. In fact I would go as far to say that they are the major cause of stress to other mums (besides obviously our own kids) These women come in a suprising form. They are normally the older mums, which I can only assume gives them the impression that they are somehow better and more knowledgeable than everyone else. Being a fairly young Mum with a rather hectic and passionate Boy I have been on the receiving end of some serious Mumbitching.
They are cliquey and they are rude and they are obvious. They hang around in packs waiting for the prey to creep past so they can devour them piece by piece in a very unsubtle manner. These women take centre stage at every special event as they view it as an opportunity to publicly display their talents. The rest of us just sit there absorbing the feeling of inadequacy and letting it seep deep into our sub conscious where it will wake us at 4am questioning our ability as a mother.
The Yummy Mummies. I have no problem with Yummy Mummies per say.. they can be a little bitchy but they are normally too busy talking designer clothes to talk about anyone else. These women are easily recognised as their boys have Ralph Lauren t-shirts and hair gel and their girls have the most inappropriate clothes on (usually some frilly dress, patent shoes and a bow) My friend once told me that she overheard a group of yummy mummies talking about where they get their bows made!! That's right, they don't just buy them.. they commission them to match their outfits! They are also easily recognisable by their massive over use of leopard print and heels so high I am genuinely concerned a baby on the floor will be impaled by one false move. These women also do not watch their kids.. they serve mostly as an accessory, we come back to the kids Crufts.
The Organic Mummies. The mums who have bought their organic snacks in the BPA free containers. These women harm no one directly. That is because they are too busy forcing their child to eat their flavour free oat snacks instead of the obligatory digestive which is normally offered at toddler groups.
This leads me to the final group.. except its not really a group. Basically whats left is the fodder. This is the category I fall in to. We are the women who are fully aware of whats going on, we are aware of the bullshit and observe it with a smug grin. Occasionally we chat to each other and feel better for it. We are honest, we tell our kids off and we accept that some bad behaviour from our kids is normal. You don't see us often (we only attend when desperate) and we normally leave before the singing commences (Mumbiches tend to lead the singing)
We spot the victims of the Mumbiches and we help to repair the damage, usually by sharing all our own inadequacies. Today I followed a Mum into the toilets as my friend had said that she was crying. The Mum was crying because her son had been going around all morning hitting other kids because he wanted their toys. Boy was one of them and I remembered her apologising to me for it looking like she was horrified, so I decided to do some repair work. Turns out she had smacked his hand and felt like The Worlds Worst Mum and how everyone must judge her now. I said no, if any of those women say that they have NEVER smacked thier child then they are a fucking liar! I told her that sharing is hard to teach and harder for them to learn and that everyone has days like this. Next week it will be someone elses turn. She said thank you and walked out feeling slightly better.
I will never understand why we are not united. It should be us against the children not us against each other. Being a parent is hard enough without the politics that come with it. Right from when we are pregnant we have an idea of the sort of Mother we want to be, a 'natural' mum, but what the fuck is a natural mum?? Yes I am a mum but that does not mean that anything less than perfect is unacceptable.
I once witnessed a ridiculous scene when out with a friend for lunch, A child bit another child.. the most dreaded of incidents! There was silence..total silence.. until the little girl started screaming. Her mum scooped her up throwing daggers at the the biter, who's mother was storming across the resturant with a face like thunder. She snapped him up and dragged him back to the table where she gave him the bollocking of a lifetime. The room was divided into the parents who's kids have bitten and those whose haven't...yet. Those with kids who have (yes, I am one of them) felt more sorry for the Mum of the biter. Words cannot describe how you feel when your child bites another but I think the desperation is proven by what the Mum said to the other Mum.
"I'm so sorry, she can bite him back if she wants to...?"
The other Mum looked appalled and spent the next hour talking very loudly about the other family and talking to other random people about it. My heart went out to biter Mum. Needless to say she left, and I would put money on her sitting in the car and crying for at least an hour.
In no way am I saying that biting is acceptable I'm just saying that we are all in this together, forgiveness compassion and empathy are free..easy and they make the difference between feeling like The Worlds Worst Mother and a normal Mum.
Whenever you have large groups of children there is inevitably fighting, tears, tantrums and Mumbiches.
A year ago I had to stop going to toddler groups as they were bad for my health. Boy would just go around hitting other children and stealing toys and shouting at me until I snapped and we left. Usually I would shove him into the car and cry my eyes out while telling him that if he kept this up he would never have friends. What I didn't add was that neither would I.
Toddler groups are a child Crufts, an opportunity to display your child and most importantly your parenting skills. I don't buy that shit. It has taken me a long time and some serious talking to's from my closest friend, to realise that Boy is normal, he's not a bad kid and I am NOT the worlds worst mother. Toddler groups did not aid my discovery. There is a very disturbing and unspoken underbelly of the Mothering World and in this post I am going to expose it for what it is.. a load of women bitching while their kids tear each others hair out.
Mums are split into different groups..
The Slummy Mummies. These are the women (normally with a new baby and a toddler) These poor women come to toddler groups to keep the older child occupied so they can feed the newborn in relative safety. They are most distinguishable by the fact they are still wearing maternity clothes 2 months after the birth. They also look like they are about to break if so much as a dirty nappy is pointed their way.
I mostly feel for these Mums but.. and its a big but.. They have a really annoying habit of not watching their toddler properly. This tends to result in someone else having to intervene when they go to stick play dough up their nose or steal another child's treasured piece of crap toy. The slummy Mummies are also at the bottom of the food chain which makes them easy prey for the MumBiches.
The Mumbiches. I do not like the Mumbiches. In fact I would go as far to say that they are the major cause of stress to other mums (besides obviously our own kids) These women come in a suprising form. They are normally the older mums, which I can only assume gives them the impression that they are somehow better and more knowledgeable than everyone else. Being a fairly young Mum with a rather hectic and passionate Boy I have been on the receiving end of some serious Mumbitching.
They are cliquey and they are rude and they are obvious. They hang around in packs waiting for the prey to creep past so they can devour them piece by piece in a very unsubtle manner. These women take centre stage at every special event as they view it as an opportunity to publicly display their talents. The rest of us just sit there absorbing the feeling of inadequacy and letting it seep deep into our sub conscious where it will wake us at 4am questioning our ability as a mother.
The Yummy Mummies. I have no problem with Yummy Mummies per say.. they can be a little bitchy but they are normally too busy talking designer clothes to talk about anyone else. These women are easily recognised as their boys have Ralph Lauren t-shirts and hair gel and their girls have the most inappropriate clothes on (usually some frilly dress, patent shoes and a bow) My friend once told me that she overheard a group of yummy mummies talking about where they get their bows made!! That's right, they don't just buy them.. they commission them to match their outfits! They are also easily recognisable by their massive over use of leopard print and heels so high I am genuinely concerned a baby on the floor will be impaled by one false move. These women also do not watch their kids.. they serve mostly as an accessory, we come back to the kids Crufts.
The Organic Mummies. The mums who have bought their organic snacks in the BPA free containers. These women harm no one directly. That is because they are too busy forcing their child to eat their flavour free oat snacks instead of the obligatory digestive which is normally offered at toddler groups.
This leads me to the final group.. except its not really a group. Basically whats left is the fodder. This is the category I fall in to. We are the women who are fully aware of whats going on, we are aware of the bullshit and observe it with a smug grin. Occasionally we chat to each other and feel better for it. We are honest, we tell our kids off and we accept that some bad behaviour from our kids is normal. You don't see us often (we only attend when desperate) and we normally leave before the singing commences (Mumbiches tend to lead the singing)
We spot the victims of the Mumbiches and we help to repair the damage, usually by sharing all our own inadequacies. Today I followed a Mum into the toilets as my friend had said that she was crying. The Mum was crying because her son had been going around all morning hitting other kids because he wanted their toys. Boy was one of them and I remembered her apologising to me for it looking like she was horrified, so I decided to do some repair work. Turns out she had smacked his hand and felt like The Worlds Worst Mum and how everyone must judge her now. I said no, if any of those women say that they have NEVER smacked thier child then they are a fucking liar! I told her that sharing is hard to teach and harder for them to learn and that everyone has days like this. Next week it will be someone elses turn. She said thank you and walked out feeling slightly better.
I will never understand why we are not united. It should be us against the children not us against each other. Being a parent is hard enough without the politics that come with it. Right from when we are pregnant we have an idea of the sort of Mother we want to be, a 'natural' mum, but what the fuck is a natural mum?? Yes I am a mum but that does not mean that anything less than perfect is unacceptable.
I once witnessed a ridiculous scene when out with a friend for lunch, A child bit another child.. the most dreaded of incidents! There was silence..total silence.. until the little girl started screaming. Her mum scooped her up throwing daggers at the the biter, who's mother was storming across the resturant with a face like thunder. She snapped him up and dragged him back to the table where she gave him the bollocking of a lifetime. The room was divided into the parents who's kids have bitten and those whose haven't...yet. Those with kids who have (yes, I am one of them) felt more sorry for the Mum of the biter. Words cannot describe how you feel when your child bites another but I think the desperation is proven by what the Mum said to the other Mum.
"I'm so sorry, she can bite him back if she wants to...?"
The other Mum looked appalled and spent the next hour talking very loudly about the other family and talking to other random people about it. My heart went out to biter Mum. Needless to say she left, and I would put money on her sitting in the car and crying for at least an hour.
In no way am I saying that biting is acceptable I'm just saying that we are all in this together, forgiveness compassion and empathy are free..easy and they make the difference between feeling like The Worlds Worst Mother and a normal Mum.
Tuesday 17 April 2012
Dignity
Apparently we all have dignity.... mine (if I ever had any, which is doubtful) gave up, probably after I got my bottom out in public for like the 5th time. I find that having a lack of dignity and a high embarrassment threshold is most useful when you're the mum of a small child with a loud voice.
These are merely a small selection of my person favourites....
Scene: Changing rooms in department store. Trying on bras. Boy is strapped into buggy with a variety of food stuffs and toys just to afford me 5 mins to try on bras.. a luxury that costs me both, emotionally and financially.
I'm crammed in a tiny changing room, hot and flustered and getting stuck in my clothes due to lack of space and Boy is getting antsy (which is a polite way of saying that toddler tantrum is building and The Fear is beginning to fill me like a panic attack)
Finally I unhook my bra and this is what happened....
"MUMMMMMMMMYYYYYY YOU GOT NIPPLES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
...and no, I am not exaggerating the volume or hysteria my naked bosoms created in Boy. There was then a silence...
Then several laughs, man, woman and child...
I did not buy a new bra that day.
Scene: I am in the shower (which takes me like 5 minutes tops) this is risky, Boy is unattended. There is a knock at the door.... The Postman.
The postman and Boy have communication through the letterbox on a daily basis and mostly (because I am addicted to ebay) there is a parcel, requiring me to open to the door.
Dilema... I am covered in soap, naked and my 3 year old is talking to the Postman through the letterbox unsupervised.. he's probably giving him money from my purse.
Just as I'm scrambling for a towel (hand size of course as I was unprepared) and just as I approach the stairs, I hear this...
"Alright mate (postman), Mummy is NAKIES... I can see NIPPLES!"
So the Postman is greeted by me, soapy, naked except for a small towel and red faced... we then did a very ridiculous and humiliating dance involving him handing me the parcel while I sign his book but also keep my towel up.
We now have an agreement where he leaves parcels under the car.... sensible.
This next one I cannot blame on Boy, this one was all me.
Scene: At an indoor soft play centre. I'm crawling through a tunnel on my hands and knees, to grab Boy from assaulting a fellow toddler, right at the top. This means looking like a tit and running the assault course made for midgets.
These are merely a small selection of my person favourites....
Scene: Changing rooms in department store. Trying on bras. Boy is strapped into buggy with a variety of food stuffs and toys just to afford me 5 mins to try on bras.. a luxury that costs me both, emotionally and financially.
I'm crammed in a tiny changing room, hot and flustered and getting stuck in my clothes due to lack of space and Boy is getting antsy (which is a polite way of saying that toddler tantrum is building and The Fear is beginning to fill me like a panic attack)
Finally I unhook my bra and this is what happened....
"MUMMMMMMMMYYYYYY YOU GOT NIPPLES!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"
...and no, I am not exaggerating the volume or hysteria my naked bosoms created in Boy. There was then a silence...
Then several laughs, man, woman and child...
I did not buy a new bra that day.
Scene: I am in the shower (which takes me like 5 minutes tops) this is risky, Boy is unattended. There is a knock at the door.... The Postman.
The postman and Boy have communication through the letterbox on a daily basis and mostly (because I am addicted to ebay) there is a parcel, requiring me to open to the door.
Dilema... I am covered in soap, naked and my 3 year old is talking to the Postman through the letterbox unsupervised.. he's probably giving him money from my purse.
Just as I'm scrambling for a towel (hand size of course as I was unprepared) and just as I approach the stairs, I hear this...
"Alright mate (postman), Mummy is NAKIES... I can see NIPPLES!"
So the Postman is greeted by me, soapy, naked except for a small towel and red faced... we then did a very ridiculous and humiliating dance involving him handing me the parcel while I sign his book but also keep my towel up.
We now have an agreement where he leaves parcels under the car.... sensible.
This next one I cannot blame on Boy, this one was all me.
Scene: At an indoor soft play centre. I'm crawling through a tunnel on my hands and knees, to grab Boy from assaulting a fellow toddler, right at the top. This means looking like a tit and running the assault course made for midgets.
I'm following the bum of another mum in front of me. Just for a laugh and what I mistakenly thought would be a friendly mum joke I said this as we approach the light at the end of the tunnel...
"Hahaha, reckon this is what it feels like to be born... except less messy and painful.. hahahahaha."
Silence...
She didn't find that funny.. how can you not find that funny....??
Ah, she turns round and I see her heavily pregnant self, bracing herself to climb a net fence...
Note to self... pregnant mums do not like jokes about birth...
Monday 16 April 2012
Characters'
I distinctly remember when I was pregnant (whilst looking lovingly at my bump) saying that I wasn't going to be a mug and buy character stuff for my child.
I will not allow bump to be brainwashed and hypnotised by cartoons.
I was reminded of this foolish statement the other night whilst putting Boy to bed...
There is he is, my lovely little boy, in his toy story pyjamas, snuggling up to his makka pakka and Iggle Piggle teddies, underneath his Cars 2 duvet cover and matching pillowcase. In the background is the soothing night time song of Balamory from 'Cbeebies Hits'. I realise as I am stood there that somehow, Disney, by way of subliminal messaging is responsible for the majority of the shit in my house!
Now I am aware of this disease spreading through my home, I can see it everywhere and am now obsessed with finding out how my home is becoming a shrine to the likes of Buzz and McQueen.
Somehow, unless it has a picture of buzz lightyear on it I feel I am failing to provide my son with proof that I acknowledge his likes. For example..
He's more likely to eat Bob the Builder spaghetti than normal hoops..(I tell myself this as justification for the 40p price difference)
He's more likely to sleep in bedding adorned with pictures of cars.. (even though I know that red and black polyester sheets are not great bed fellows)
He's more likely to ride the scooter if it has a picture of Peppa Pig on it.. (He's a boy, he'd ride the lawn mower just for a laugh!)
He's more likely to wash if I buy the Iggle Piggle wash mitt (This one is total bullshit. I know from experience that the wash mitt will be used once, by me, to clean the bath then thrown away)
He must have Buzz Lightyear trainers (to be fair to me, he chose them. This is more my inability to say no than pressure to buy shit)
Boy even has Peppa Pig pants, because as we all know when potty training it makes such a difference which cartoon character is getting soaked in toddler wazz.
Even when making a conscience effort not to buy this shit I still find it invading my home. There is not a room in my house that I don't find myself being eyeballed by a Disney drone and the worst part is.. once it's in the house it will never leave.
Boy will never let them leave.....
The bogey
This is the conversation recently had between me and boy in the car...
"Mummy, I got a bogey."
"Thats nice, is it a big squishy one?"
"Yes Mummy, and crispy, Im going to eat it"
"Eurgh no."
"Why NOT Mummy!"
"Because its disgusting."
".. I'm going to eat it..."
"No, don't eat it."
"Why not?"
"Please don't eat it."
"WHY NOT! I WIPE IT ON WINDOW INSTEAD MUMMY!"
"No."
Silence... I know that this means he has wiped it on the window.
..."I did it Mummy."
"I told you not to."
"Why not? I put it on window."
I turn to see but there is no bogey, just a trail where it had been smeared up the glass.
"Where is it then?"
"Oh, I licked it off and eat it Mummy."
Delightful.
"Mummy, I got a bogey."
"Thats nice, is it a big squishy one?"
"Yes Mummy, and crispy, Im going to eat it"
"Eurgh no."
"Why NOT Mummy!"
"Because its disgusting."
".. I'm going to eat it..."
"No, don't eat it."
"Why not?"
"Please don't eat it."
"WHY NOT! I WIPE IT ON WINDOW INSTEAD MUMMY!"
"No."
Silence... I know that this means he has wiped it on the window.
..."I did it Mummy."
"I told you not to."
"Why not? I put it on window."
I turn to see but there is no bogey, just a trail where it had been smeared up the glass.
"Where is it then?"
"Oh, I licked it off and eat it Mummy."
Delightful.
Thursday 22 March 2012
Mumbiches (said like sandwiches)
Today I heard the following come from a mum to another mum, sat only a few feet from me in a swimming pool.
"I cant believe that kid still has a float jacket on!'
There are about twenty kids in the pool, and corresponding mums. (Who are all desperately trying to hide their 'thunder thighs' under the barely warm, piss ridden water).
Oh, and Boy is the only one in a float jacket)
"Mine were out of jackets by the time they were one"
(Mumbiches kids are splashing about, trying to drown each other while mine is attached to my neck like a very frightened kola, slowly pulling my (not big enough) bikini top down)
"She needs to get him some swimming lessons."
Thanks very much FELLOW Mum.
I leave, nearly crying.
Then I am angry that I'm crying.
Then I'm angry at them for being so judgemental.. and loud about it.
Then I'm freaking out because I think Boy is abnormal and will grow up frightened of water.
He will grow up to be teased.
He will fall in to a lake...
and drown.....
I am the worlds WORST mum.
I reach my mums where I get total sympathy and a firm yet totally empathetic talking to.
My son is normal (if a little...spirited??)
He will learn to swim when he is ready (and when I can afford swimming lessons)
He will grow up to be well rounded as I will teach him not to be affected by teasing.
He is not frightened of water... he regularly pours it all over my carpet.
I am a GOOD mum (not the best, but then, she doesn't exist..)
"I cant believe that kid still has a float jacket on!'
There are about twenty kids in the pool, and corresponding mums. (Who are all desperately trying to hide their 'thunder thighs' under the barely warm, piss ridden water).
Oh, and Boy is the only one in a float jacket)
"Mine were out of jackets by the time they were one"
(Mumbiches kids are splashing about, trying to drown each other while mine is attached to my neck like a very frightened kola, slowly pulling my (not big enough) bikini top down)
"She needs to get him some swimming lessons."
Thanks very much FELLOW Mum.
I leave, nearly crying.
Then I am angry that I'm crying.
Then I'm angry at them for being so judgemental.. and loud about it.
Then I'm freaking out because I think Boy is abnormal and will grow up frightened of water.
He will grow up to be teased.
He will fall in to a lake...
and drown.....
I am the worlds WORST mum.
I reach my mums where I get total sympathy and a firm yet totally empathetic talking to.
My son is normal (if a little...spirited??)
He will learn to swim when he is ready (and when I can afford swimming lessons)
He will grow up to be well rounded as I will teach him not to be affected by teasing.
He is not frightened of water... he regularly pours it all over my carpet.
I am a GOOD mum (not the best, but then, she doesn't exist..)
Peg Pinata
Boy has devised an ingenious game that, coincidentally, has become a pain in the arse for me.
He has invented Peg Pinata.
This game basically involves him whacking my (very full) peg basket, on the washing line, with one of those massive noodle floats.. Boy does this until all the pegs have flown to the far corners of the garden, ready for me to retrieve. Usually, when I have 4 loads of washing to squash and hang (badly) on the line.
I swear he is under the impression he needs to create more work for me...
He has invented Peg Pinata.
This game basically involves him whacking my (very full) peg basket, on the washing line, with one of those massive noodle floats.. Boy does this until all the pegs have flown to the far corners of the garden, ready for me to retrieve. Usually, when I have 4 loads of washing to squash and hang (badly) on the line.
I swear he is under the impression he needs to create more work for me...
Monday 19 March 2012
Stolen Goods
Have recently started letting boy out of the trolley when shopping. This quite often comes down to a shocking life or death moment involving boys curiosity and the travelator. It also means he now has access to everything on the shelves.
I reckon I owe hundreds to supermarkets for broken, half eaten goods cunningly shoved to the back of shelves. Yes, I am one of these Mums who lets their kids eat the grapes from the bag BEFORE I have paid.. I make no apologies.. the happiness of a toddler in a supermarket is something that concerns EVERYONE. This has however created problems now he is free to stick his dirty little paws into the food. Found him with his finger testing the squidgyness of a raw sausage. Great. If I'm not on the ball or in my usual half asleep state I will forget that I need to do a sly U-turn to avoid the pick and mix... This is the incident that made me have to change my shopping route..
Boy is literally helping himself to handfuls of pick and mix, ignoring the hygiene implications of this my main concern is how to extricate the evil little hyper jellies from his hands without him having a full- on emotional breakdown in the middle of supermarket when I have a full trolley (3 weeks overdue). I did what any self respecting, caring and emotionally fragile Mother would do.. I said this.. in a whisper..
"Just eat them quickly so no one sees and don't do it again"
I watch in shock and admiration as my tiny boy shovels these evil little sweeties down his throat thinking 'Yep, thats gonna bite me on the arse at bedtime tonight when I'm trying to poke him down of the light fitting with a broom'
We approach the till.. I'm a little nervous I'll admit.. thinking Please don't ban me for being unable to control my child. All is good, the man puts my stuff through the till and I feel smug... until I hear a little voice I recognise say
"Look man LOOK what MUMMY GAVE ME"... and out of his little pocket, squished into his hand is a few quids worth of pick n mix. Man looks at me and the best I can say??
"HAHAHAHAHAHA, does that count as harbouring stolen goods?!"
These are not good words to say, loudly in a supermarket.
I reckon I owe hundreds to supermarkets for broken, half eaten goods cunningly shoved to the back of shelves. Yes, I am one of these Mums who lets their kids eat the grapes from the bag BEFORE I have paid.. I make no apologies.. the happiness of a toddler in a supermarket is something that concerns EVERYONE. This has however created problems now he is free to stick his dirty little paws into the food. Found him with his finger testing the squidgyness of a raw sausage. Great. If I'm not on the ball or in my usual half asleep state I will forget that I need to do a sly U-turn to avoid the pick and mix... This is the incident that made me have to change my shopping route..
Boy is literally helping himself to handfuls of pick and mix, ignoring the hygiene implications of this my main concern is how to extricate the evil little hyper jellies from his hands without him having a full- on emotional breakdown in the middle of supermarket when I have a full trolley (3 weeks overdue). I did what any self respecting, caring and emotionally fragile Mother would do.. I said this.. in a whisper..
"Just eat them quickly so no one sees and don't do it again"
I watch in shock and admiration as my tiny boy shovels these evil little sweeties down his throat thinking 'Yep, thats gonna bite me on the arse at bedtime tonight when I'm trying to poke him down of the light fitting with a broom'
We approach the till.. I'm a little nervous I'll admit.. thinking Please don't ban me for being unable to control my child. All is good, the man puts my stuff through the till and I feel smug... until I hear a little voice I recognise say
"Look man LOOK what MUMMY GAVE ME"... and out of his little pocket, squished into his hand is a few quids worth of pick n mix. Man looks at me and the best I can say??
"HAHAHAHAHAHA, does that count as harbouring stolen goods?!"
These are not good words to say, loudly in a supermarket.
Human Echo
Boy is my human echo. Its really disconcerting being told off by your own offspring in you own rehursed Mummy is angry voice. Here are some examples from today alone..
"MUMMY GET on the TRAMPOLINE NOW!!"
"I will in a minute, I'm just cooking" (By which I mean I have hot pan of boiling water in one hand, making huis dinner, while the other hand chops the cucumber for his lunch.. thats how I roll! Haha)
"No NOW!"
I dont reply.. this angers him further (and I know it, can even see him with his little fists clenched in indigation. His face all scrunched up and red)
"MUMMY, I GIVE YOU TO 3 to get on the TRAMPOLINE! 1.....2.......3.....!!!"
"I told you I'm cooking, I'll be out in a minute"
"RIGHT!! Mummy TIMEOUT 2 MINUTES!"
He then marched in and tried to bundle me out of the kitchen into timeout. Outrageous.
"Mummy, eat your cucumber ALL up!"
"Alright bossy boots, whats it got to do with you?!"
"Because I said so..."
Bugger.
Saturday 17 March 2012
The Death of the Speakers
Music plays a big part in my life and therefore the boys too. He's been listening to music since he was in my tummy, which is probably why he can only shout his wants and needs at me, maybe he is constantly hearing Tower of Power in his head. The boy likes funk, he likes bass and he likes it LOUD. This makes me so proud.
The demand for music in my car has led to her only being able to produce sound from 1 speaker (2 intermittently on a good day) This is what happened..
"MUSIC LOUDER MUMMY!!"
*I turn music up.. i live to serve the Prince in the back*
"No, LOUDER mummy!"
"I cant hunny its too loud." - I am having to turn music down to speak now.
"No LOUDER!!"
"LOUDER!"
"LOOOOOUUUUDDDDEEEERRRR MUMMY LOUDER!"
"fine!"
*Turns music up and speaker blows, then the other goes...*
"Shit"
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahah, naughty Mummy. YOU broke the music"
Im sorry car xx
The demand for music in my car has led to her only being able to produce sound from 1 speaker (2 intermittently on a good day) This is what happened..
"MUSIC LOUDER MUMMY!!"
*I turn music up.. i live to serve the Prince in the back*
"No, LOUDER mummy!"
"I cant hunny its too loud." - I am having to turn music down to speak now.
"No LOUDER!!"
"LOUDER!"
"LOOOOOUUUUDDDDEEEERRRR MUMMY LOUDER!"
"fine!"
*Turns music up and speaker blows, then the other goes...*
"Shit"
"Hahahahahahahahahahahahah, naughty Mummy. YOU broke the music"
Im sorry car xx
My Portable Storage Unit
My car, is a luxury I can neither afford or live without. My car is priceless, especially when we are talking about the crazy social life of boy. He has more friends and commitments and than I do, certainly not easily managed on public transport!!
My car is many things to me, my friend, my transport, my Independence, an extension of my storage and lastly, a refuge for half eaten bananas, broken toys, raisins and beakers so old I swear I can hear them talking to me.
Poor car takes a bashing, she is too old for me to worry about dinging the doors or the funny noise she makes when she goes round corners. She is loyal and reliable, this is enough for me. I can no longer use my boot, it contains every conceivable item that might be needed in the event of a national emergency: 2 first aid kits, 4 changes of clothes (all for varying weather conditions) emergency toys and items of amusement, big thick coats, emergency nappies wipes etc, buggy, two rain covers, wellington boots, spare tools and a warning triangle ( which I sometimes think would be better suited attached to my arse)
Boy, is not good to the car.. He doesn't treat her well or understand that she has boundaries. A regular conversation In my car between us is this;
"FASTER MUMMA, FASTER!!!"
"Babe I cant go faster, the car will break and its against the law."
'FASTER MUMMA!!"
"No."
'CATCH UP WITH THE LORRY!!"
"I cant darlin, there is two people in front of me"
"FASTER MUMMY!! FAAAAAAAASSSSTTTTEEEEERRRRR!!!!"
"no."
"THE LORRY IS GETTING AWAY!"
"thats because he can hear you shouting and he's scared"
"FASTER!!"
My car is many things to me, my friend, my transport, my Independence, an extension of my storage and lastly, a refuge for half eaten bananas, broken toys, raisins and beakers so old I swear I can hear them talking to me.
Poor car takes a bashing, she is too old for me to worry about dinging the doors or the funny noise she makes when she goes round corners. She is loyal and reliable, this is enough for me. I can no longer use my boot, it contains every conceivable item that might be needed in the event of a national emergency: 2 first aid kits, 4 changes of clothes (all for varying weather conditions) emergency toys and items of amusement, big thick coats, emergency nappies wipes etc, buggy, two rain covers, wellington boots, spare tools and a warning triangle ( which I sometimes think would be better suited attached to my arse)
Boy, is not good to the car.. He doesn't treat her well or understand that she has boundaries. A regular conversation In my car between us is this;
"FASTER MUMMA, FASTER!!!"
"Babe I cant go faster, the car will break and its against the law."
'FASTER MUMMA!!"
"No."
'CATCH UP WITH THE LORRY!!"
"I cant darlin, there is two people in front of me"
"FASTER MUMMY!! FAAAAAAAASSSSTTTTEEEEERRRRR!!!!"
"no."
"THE LORRY IS GETTING AWAY!"
"thats because he can hear you shouting and he's scared"
"FASTER!!"
Friday 16 March 2012
The Birthday Party Checklist
Birthday Party Checklist;
- Balloons (of the helium variety so when the kids are in bed you can inhale them and fool yourself it was worth spending £20 on glorified air)
- Cake (not just any cake but THE cake. You know, the cake that symbolises the kind of Mother you are. How much you love your child, how great your domestic skills are, your ability to create under pressure; these are all considered by your nearest and dearest while they aptly devour your cake/heart in front you...)
- Presents (oh god, the toys!! All now needing a new home, that YOU are going to have to find.
- Invites (that you hope child is going to help you make but you end up doing them and trying to authenticate them by sticking the stickers on at dodgy angles and writing with your left hand)
- Sedatives
If you only remember the sedatives your doing well....
The sound every mother dreads is the sound of their child crying in pain.. but what we hate more is the sound of someone elses child crying while ours is silent and looking very sheepish stood next to them. Then comes the inevitable exchange with the 'unknown mother'. This will go one of two ways...
1. You agree that both kids are as silly as each other, no one lost an eye and your coffee is still at a drinkable temperature so lets just laugh and move on. (once the twenty minute bribe for your child to apologise has taken place of course)
2. They look at you with disgust and your child like they are Satan. They snatch their child away and stalk off telling all the mothers along the way that yours is a bad egg. You cry and leave.
Personally I much prefer option 1 but I must confess I no longer cry and leave if option 2 is what i get landed with. I merely say in a loud voice "the best you can do baby is apologise if that's not enough then that's THEIR PROBLEM' .....Pick boy up and run full pelt into the ball pit.
1. You agree that both kids are as silly as each other, no one lost an eye and your coffee is still at a drinkable temperature so lets just laugh and move on. (once the twenty minute bribe for your child to apologise has taken place of course)
2. They look at you with disgust and your child like they are Satan. They snatch their child away and stalk off telling all the mothers along the way that yours is a bad egg. You cry and leave.
Personally I much prefer option 1 but I must confess I no longer cry and leave if option 2 is what i get landed with. I merely say in a loud voice "the best you can do baby is apologise if that's not enough then that's THEIR PROBLEM' .....Pick boy up and run full pelt into the ball pit.
Knicker Eating Bottom
A regular haunt of mine and boys is soft play centres. To say that boy is energetic would be a massive understatement.. he needs places to climb, stuff to throw and occasionally, if I'm very unlucky, another child to start a fight with.. soft play is designed for this! Some of the funniest moments have happened to me at one of the many places we frequent. Thanks to these places however I no longer seem to have claustrophobia.. thanks motherhood!
Yesterday I found myself literally the butt of a joke made by a very cute little 5 year old girl. She was walking up some stairs behind me and boy with her mummy when I hear the following conversation take place, loudly, behind my back...
"Mummy, that lady doesn't have any knickers on! Hahahahaha."
"I'm sure she does darling, maybe they are just very small."
"HAHAHAHAHA, maybe her bottom ATE THEM UP??!!"
I can assure you all, I was wearing knickers.
The mother was totally embarrassed and apologetic while I roared with laughter and made a note in my head to share this with everyone i know.
This level of embarrassment I can handle, this is comfortable, sorts out the people into those with a sense of humour and those without. However, a few hours later my mother points out to me that my leggings are totally see through and she can totally see that I am wearing a thong. Which means that so have ALL the parents at soft play.. especially when I was climbing through tunnels on my hands and knees.
Note to self... check transparency of clothing before leaving house!
Yesterday I found myself literally the butt of a joke made by a very cute little 5 year old girl. She was walking up some stairs behind me and boy with her mummy when I hear the following conversation take place, loudly, behind my back...
"Mummy, that lady doesn't have any knickers on! Hahahahaha."
"I'm sure she does darling, maybe they are just very small."
"HAHAHAHAHA, maybe her bottom ATE THEM UP??!!"
I can assure you all, I was wearing knickers.
The mother was totally embarrassed and apologetic while I roared with laughter and made a note in my head to share this with everyone i know.
This level of embarrassment I can handle, this is comfortable, sorts out the people into those with a sense of humour and those without. However, a few hours later my mother points out to me that my leggings are totally see through and she can totally see that I am wearing a thong. Which means that so have ALL the parents at soft play.. especially when I was climbing through tunnels on my hands and knees.
Note to self... check transparency of clothing before leaving house!
The Beginning
Starting this blog is alot harder than I imagined it would be. Basically, I need a place to document the ridiculous, amazing and sometimes heartbreaking moments in my life... and this is it.. Welcome to my life, my amazing (and tolerant) husband, my hilarious (nearly) 3 year old son, my mental mates and my inspirational family.
I'm in a fairly small minority these days; being a full time mum and still being in my early twenties. I have also realised over the last (nearly) 3 years of my life that frequently I am, The Worlds Worst Mum yet also the BEST! The quickest way to determine which mummy I am going to be today is to ask my boy, as lets face it... its his decision.
Before I had my boy I will happily confess to being easily embarrassed and fairly cautious in nature. This is no longer an issue for me. Once you've had more than a handful of people look at your foof in a PURELY medical and curious fashion, your dignity is so low its almost funny to see how far you can drag it along the floor. This lack of embarrassment however has enabled me to laugh at some of the most cringing, humiliating and down right disgusting moments being a mum has chucked at me... I hope you enjoy them....
I'm in a fairly small minority these days; being a full time mum and still being in my early twenties. I have also realised over the last (nearly) 3 years of my life that frequently I am, The Worlds Worst Mum yet also the BEST! The quickest way to determine which mummy I am going to be today is to ask my boy, as lets face it... its his decision.
Before I had my boy I will happily confess to being easily embarrassed and fairly cautious in nature. This is no longer an issue for me. Once you've had more than a handful of people look at your foof in a PURELY medical and curious fashion, your dignity is so low its almost funny to see how far you can drag it along the floor. This lack of embarrassment however has enabled me to laugh at some of the most cringing, humiliating and down right disgusting moments being a mum has chucked at me... I hope you enjoy them....
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