Friday, 21 September 2012

Mum Knows Best ...

Mums do know best, just like men never read the instructions and the Post Office queue is always three miles long, it's an unwritten law, part of an old charter or something. It is a fact of life, it is an IS. Mums ALWAYS know best.

And Mum knows best is something my own children, all four of them, believe fervently. But not quite in the way I would like them to.

I WOULD like them to think that I have the wisdom and experience from which they might learn. That, because I have walked the earth for nigh on five decades, I can pass on the things I've learned so they don't  make the same mistakes that I may (or may not) have made. Like an advance party that has drawn fire, I want to return to my troops and brief them on the dangers that lie ahead.

And I don't necessarily mean the 'big stuff,' I'd be quite happy, at this stage, for the TeenTwins to accept that the heavy application of black eyeliner only ends up in making you looking like a panda at tea-time. Or fake tan always looks fake and never like a tan. Or that saying yes when you really mean no is never a good idea. I'd like The Third Girl to just say "Yes Mummy" instead of "Why?" And I'd like The Boy to realise that there is only one person who knows when it's time to go to bed and it's not him.

The end of a long day at school
.But no.

They DO think I know best at some things though. I know best how to wash clothes and fold clothes and put clothes away. Apparently. Putting the loo roll in the loo? I excell at that and it's a tricky job or at least in a family of six there isn't a single other soul who can manage it. Likewise I always know best where the bin is, it must be an elusive little bugger as well because it escapes everyone else. *Rolls eyes*

And there are many, many other things that mummy knows best at but as most of them involve me scrubbing unpleasant things off of other things while nobody takes a blind bit of notice, none of it makes me bask in the warm glow of achievement to be honest.

*Puts on rubber gloves. Again*


  1. Oh dear. So it gets better then... (I have 4 sons ranging from 2 to 8).

  2. Our bin hides from everyone else too and the rubbish hides in strange places like cracks of sofas!? x

  3. This really is so very true and a rye smile spread across my face a the mention of the loo roll, putting away of clothes and the 'scrubbing of unpleasant things'. Perhaps it is the age of our children - I believe we may be at a similar stage in life!


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