Wednesday, 26 October 2011

A Mummy By Any Other Name

FOR the past few months for some reason of their own, the Teen Twins have been seeking out something other than Mum to call me. Mainly I suspect because with four children in the house, the word "Mum" like any other word that you hear repeated (shouted/ sobbed/ screamed/ whined and yelled) repeatedly, has lost all meaning.

And they, being as bright (manipulative) as they are, have also worked out that after 16 years I can hear the initial rumbling of an "M.." in the middle distance and deftly develop random, specific and selective deafness.

("Mum, can I have..."
"Sorry darling did you say something? I've got to worm the cat/ sort the washing/ clean the hamster."
Child disappears in morbid fear of being requested to help with household chores.)

Friday, 21 October 2011

Parent V Teacher : The Battle for the Small Boy

IT was The Small Boys Parent's Evening this week.. his first in Class One where they do proper ("boring" says The Small Boy) learning.

Class R was all playing trains, planting sunflowers and painting any small girl that stood still long enough. Class One is spelling tests and learning to do joined up writing. I can see why he might not be that enamored, and he hasn't been.

For the first few weeks of the new term, every morning was a fight to get him into uniform. Another fight to get him out of the door and a final fight - definitely a title match - to get him into the classroom.

Wednesday, 19 October 2011

Other People's Children

IS IT wrong to dislike Other People's Children? I've tried my best, smiled in all the right places. Even, probably, patted some on the head in a futile attempt to look normal. But no, however much I try I just can't find it in myself to actively 'like' them as much as I like my own children.

But then my children ARE my children. They've been brought up to be how I expect them to be while Other People's Children just, well, haven't. 

Other People's Children, when invited for tea, issue menu suggestions, or perhaps, orders for what they will eat. Then they smear (literally use a knife to smear ... I KNOOOOW) tomato sauce across it all and only eat half of it anyway.

Other People's Children ask for things and look as though they'll go squealing to the authorities that you've deprived them of their human rights if you don't immediately comply.

Other People's Children stand in the background whispering suggestions into My Child's ear that are just NEVER going to happen..... "Yes, child, of course you can cross three main roads and go to the shop on your own. Of course you can, you must be at least 10 years old and it's dark. Off you trot." NOT.

Other People's Children use words like "sarnie" and "belly" and "bum" and then My Child says them too when we all KNOW it's "sandwich," "tummy" and "bottom." *rolls eyes*

Other People's Children come round to play with My Child's toys and break them and don't apologise even if they have, say, pulled the door off a HUGELY expensive and much treasured dolls house. 

Broken door on the doll's house
Other People's Children can wreck homes


And when Other People's Children have, for example, done that, you can't even express an inkling of an element of disappointment because they are OTHER PEOPLE'S CHILDREN..... *grits teeth.*

So, I'm sorry. But see Your Child? I don't want to know unless it comes with a signed guarantee of satisfaction and an infinite capacity for kindness and tolerance. I think I need it.

*NEVER EVER invites that Other Person's Child for tea EVER AGAIN

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Extra Curricular Activities

BY the cunning dint of having a baby roughly every five years, I have successfully managed to stave off any temptation (not that there was ever much) to be dragged into school activities and events.

Obviously I've attended all the class assemblies and special school church services required. Obviously. But with a small, sticky child in tow being force-fed pieces of fruit, raisins and, in extreme cases (when I'm past caring), Jelly Tots, to keep them within socially acceptable sound levels.

But manning a stall at the school fair? Never. Serving teas to other put-upon roped-in mothers? Not once. PTA meetings? Do me a favour.

With child four now safely ensconced in Class One, I have no defence left AT ALL. I thought about having another baby (not really) or buying a dog, but it appears I am now doomed (bullied by the Small Boy) to stick my hand up like some Pavlovian puppy the minute 'involvement' is required.

Thursday, 6 October 2011

When I Was Young (ish) ......

Once upon a time BC (before children) I worked at the local newspaper. Pregnant for the first time, with twins, I wrote a series of articles about impending and new motherhood. These are some of those articles 15/ 16 years after they were first published.


Copies of newspaper articles


Last stop before motherhood
(published November 17 1995)

  I'm big. Big enough for people to begin looking out a couple of towels and boiling up water as I hove into view.


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