honesty Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

Anna — Mon, 24 Apr 2017 05:00:40 +0000

A couple of weeks ago we indulged in a chilly family day trip to Bridlington. It was cold, it was windy it was lots of fun.As we walked along the promenade Aoife looked around then she said to me in a bit of a loud whisper “Mummy, there’s no one here. Please will you run now?” For a minute I thought to myself “Why would it matter if anyone were here?” and then I remembered… Now see, in our family Rory is the runner, he does running ‘for fun’. Aoife quite likes a good run too. I on the other hand, run for punishment. Ok maybe that’s a bit dramatic but I run because I need to get fit not because I want to. A few years ago Aoife asked me why I never ran. I didn’t think ‘because I wobble, turn scarlet and look like I might die’ was an appropriate answer for a four year old so instead I told a little lie. I said “The reason mummy doesn’t run is because mummy is actually the fastest runner in the whole world.” “REALLY MUMMY?” “Yes. The FASTEST and I don’t like to show off and I don’t want other people to feel bad that they can’t run as fast as me so I don’t run”. See what I did there? Not only am I the fastest human but I’m also the most humble and modest, not wanting anyone else to feel bad compared to my amazingness. She looked at me in awe. Over the next few months Aoife mentioned it a couple of times and then no more. I never thought about it again until that chilly day in Brid when she really wanted to see me, the fastest runner in the world, run. Luckily some people appeared so I didn’t have to see it through but I was really surprised that she had actually believed my lie. With hindsight I suppose there is no reason she wouldn’t. I’m her mummy, the fountain of all knowledge and truth. Why would I ever deceive her? As parents we all tell little lies, you’re lying right now if you’re sat there saying ‘noooooo not I’. ‘Eating the crusts will make you strong’ ‘Cbeebies isn’t on, it’s on holiday’ ‘I’ve no idea where that Charlie & Lola book has gone’ (down the back of the couch) Part of me felt a little bad that she had believed my lie for so long, the other part of me thought ‘surely I can’t be the only one so wily’ so obviously I turned to the internet to find other parents who have told whoppers so I didn’t seem so terrible feel quite so alone in my web of deceit. The responses I received were fantastic and have been stored in my brain for future use. “That my hair is so long because I eat all my veg… I have extensions! I went from shoulder length to long in January and he totally believed me… I felt really guilty too then just never came clean! He even told someone that if you eat all your vegetables your hair grows super fast! Ha” – Natalie from Hello Cuppies “Carrots make you see in the dark (got that from my mum and nan!) I often tell them that Octonauts on Netflix just isn’t working today. Oh and last night I told my son that Father Christmas lives with the Easter Bunny (and the tooth fairy) so they all chat together and compare notes for when it’s Easter and Christmas and whether to leave a coin when teeth fall out… so it’s a very good idea to try and be a good boy all the time, not just in the lead up to chocolate or presents!!!!” Kate – skilled fibber from Five Little Stars “One that I was told when I was little… “When the ice cream van plays that tune it means they’ve sold out.” My parents were sick… my dad also convinced his sister that the string was the best bit of the roast beef joint. She apparently ate it on several occasions. I’m not advocating that one though” Dawn – our favourite poet over at Rhyming with Wine “That my Easter egg is too spicy for him!” Jen from Rice Cakes and Raisins “I’ve told mine that I ordered them through the internet. Harvey my youngest wants to know why I didn’t order him first… I said it’s because I selected the lucky dip so the storks chose my babies” Leana from Mummy & Me club “Yep I told LB that if she doesn’t tidy up her toys and put them away the ‘tidy up fairy’ will come along and take away her toys. Mean I know but it works!” Rachel at Rach’s Blog Space I’d like to thank my co-conspirators fellow Mums for sharing their top fibs, I got some good ideas. You should also check out their blogs for the truths they tell at times 🙂 If you want a full directory of fibs to tell your small I point you in the direction of Aleena at Mummy, Mama, Mum she has a whole HOST of them 🙂

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Perfect Mother?

Anna — Mon, 28 Nov 2016 01:45:09 +0000

Recently I had the (mis)fortune to read a blog post about the Perfect Mother. I’m not going to link it but to loosely paraphrase, us ‘honest’ mummy bloggers need to pull ourselves together, make a from scratch Annabel Karmel meal for our perfectly scrubbed and dressed children and never complain. EVER. I didn’t agree with this post at all, in fact I found it a little irresponsible, but it did get me to thinking. What is our role as a parenting/mummy blogger? I am only just starting to feel comfortable labelling myself as a blogger. Until very recently I simply considered myself to be a woman with an opinion, wine and WiFi. I’m just not happy with labels (I spent my whole time at art school denying I was a feminist artist when I clearly ticked the boxes) But, here I am, a blogger and more specifically a parenting/mummy blogger and, whether I like it or not I feel I may have some slight responsibility. I was never one for reading blogs, it was only once I became a parent they actually became a bit of a life line for me. I’d find myself in the middle of the night with an unsettled baby, an empty bank account thanks to Ebay ‘bargains’ and a lot of questions or self doubt as a new mum. So where did I turn? Why, your friend and mine Google of course. And, inevitably a click would link to a blog. If I was exhausted and feeling useless did I want to read ‘get dressed and stop being actively crap at your job’? NO! To my poor tired brain that read as ‘you’re a failure, you are letting your child down and probably everyone else around you including the cat….ESPECIALLY the cat’ What I wanted to read was the experiences of parents in similar situations. Parents telling me that they had really hard times but got over it. Telling about that one day the whole family had a pyjama day and no one suffered one little bit or that giving their child smiley faces for tea with a Fruit Shoot did not instantly result in type 2 diabetes. None of us went into parenting thinking it would be a piece of cake, we were all well prepared for the massive changes in our lives but maybe some of us weren’t entirely prepared for the mental and physical effect it would have on us, the stuff that people didn’t seem to talk about and so we look to the internet for answers. To see a post saying ‘you chose to be a parent, suck it up’ just isn’t helpful. And so I say to all the ‘honest’ mummy bloggers out there, keep being honest. Keep telling your tales of tantrums in Sainsburys (yours and theirs), play dates from hell and cake for tea (or a refined sugar free flapjack made in a moment of ‘supermum’ madness). Celebrate their survival and yours with a glass of wine once they’re in bed. If you’re like me you’ll assume no one is reading what you have to say but something you share just might make one very exhausted and overwhelmed new parent feel better about themselves and how they’re doing. CHEERS! This post first appeared on www.meetothermums.com

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Hey Wills, you’re not alone.

Anna — Mon, 21 Nov 2016 12:21:28 +0000

Last week, during a visit to Vietnam, Prince William admitted he struggled with parenthood. The internet was vicious! HOW VERY DARE HE? cried Twitter. “U don’t know meaning of struggle”* “This man has no idea what it means to struggle in life” *SLOW HAND CLAP* Well done the internet. You completely missed the point. I don’t for one minute believe that when William said he struggled he meant that he was strapped for cash or he was weighed down with laundry. He wasn’t admitting he found it a struggle because they need a new boiler but the kids need new shoes. He isn’t talking about a materialistic struggle. He is talking about a mental struggle. The one many of us go through when we question every little decision we make and action we take. When we second guess the impact the words we say will have on our children in years to come. The struggle of feeling like your wading through treacle rather than frolicking in leaves. The struggle of making decisions based on the impact it will have on a whole family unit rather than the impact it will have on yourself. The struggle of trying to encourage your children to be thankful, thoughtful, caring and kind little humans. It’s bloody hard work. The struggle of parenthood isn’t a working class/upper-class argument. It doesn’t matter how much money we have. It doesn’t matter how big or small a support network we have surrounding us. We can all find ourselves struggling for one reason or another. I’ve said it before, none of us go into parenthood thinking it will be a breeze but we can’t truly prepare for the impact on our lives whether it be our first, second or third (I assume). To sit behind a keyboard telling someone they aren’t allowed to declare parenting a struggle is a cop out. None of us have the right to decide that someone else can’t find things difficult because they have more money than us or a bigger house. It’s not for us to decide who is allowed to struggle and who isn’t. It’s also not for us to decide whose struggles are worse than others. It’s for us to support others who are struggling, if we can. Parenting levels the field. No matter how rich or poor we are we’ve all been sicked on. We’ve all discovered that questionable mark on our top once we enter polite company. We’ve all had pasta thrown at us. We’ve all questioned whether it’s a freckle or a speck of shit on our arm Give the man a break. He may be heir to the throne but he’s still a parent like the rest of us and I applaud him for admitting this. Wills, if you’re reading this, if you ever need a chat about this whole family/parenting malarky just drop me a line. You, Catherine and the children can pop round for tea and a chat. *No one is actually going to take offence at something written by someone who can’t even be bothered to write the whole word ‘you’.

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Happy 18th birthday Google (other search engines are available)

Anna — Tue, 27 Sep 2016 11:09:42 +0000

One of the best inventions for any parent/new parent is the smart phone. Not because it keeps you in touch with other adults via phone calls and social media. Not because we can enforce photos of our little angels 24hrs a day on people whether they like it or not. Oh no no no, because it means that Google is right there, in your hand, night or day with all the answers you desire and some you really don’t. I try not to use Google to diagnose illness, we all know you can go from a cough to death in three easy steps if you look at the internet too hard, but I have found myself searching a variety of random things over time. Does my baby sleep enough? Does my baby sleep too much? When do babies get teeth? How to sooth colic. When do I wean? When do babies walk? When do babies talk? Define ‘neurotic’. What should a babies/toddlers/child temperature be? What should a babies/toddlers/child heart BPM be? When do free nursery hours start? Cheap flights to New York. How to tell off your child when the naughty step doesn’t work. Why does my toddler keep pushing his fist into his mouth until he gags? How to stop a toddler running away. How to teach a toddler ‘STOP’ How to lose weight. Cuvee du golfe de Saint Tropez (red) sellers UK. How to prevent tantrums. How to deal with tantrums. Should my two year old talk yet? Why does my five year old constantly talk/sing/make noises? Why are my children attention seeking when they have all my attention? Cheap flights to France. How to stop toddler pulling hair/scratching others. How to stop five year old being mean. Why is my hair falling out? Toddler keeps lying down in road, why? How to explain respect to a five year old. How to make children sleep longer. Property abroad. What to do with a child who doesn’t care about repercussions? How to tell off a toddler who doesn’t care if you shout. How to stop toddler throwing stuff. Cbeebies. How to explain to five year old why they should behave. How to stop children hanging off me/touching me without making them feel unwanted. Engagement rings (it’s good to dream) Cheap flights for one adult. How to stop toddler trying to eat stones. Weather for *current location*. Wine offers. All these questions and dilemmas, despite there being millions of search results to all my queries, only about 4 have ever been successfully resolved. It turns out Google is just like most 18 year olds, think they know it all but actually full of useless information. I jest, of course (please don’t sue me).

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Hi 1993? It’s me, you!

Anna — Tue, 20 Sep 2016 11:17:21 +0000

A friend posted this on my Facebook timeline…. “.on reflection…having lived a fun and interesting ‘couple of years’* since your teens, what 10 things would you tell/teach your 15 year old self if you could? (I imagine your 15 year old self will only listen to you) ❤ *maybe more than a couple ? x” My 15 year old self existed in a town called Hartlepool in 1993/4. 1) Drop this tie-dye/flares shit. It’s shapeless and unflattering, the ‘alternative’ thing really doesn’t suit you. Indie & Emo will be along in a few years, embrace it. Skinny jeans, monochrome and good hair is more you. Two things to remember (i) black or red hair always suits you better (ii) a fringe is never wrong. 2) You’re not fat. For serious, you think you are but you’re not. You are going to get fat in a couple of years then from 2006-8 it will drop off you’ll have a great figure (you’ll still think you’re fat though). Unfortunately you’ll get really fat again after you’ve had children. Yes you have children. Take that look off your face, we’ll talk about that in a minute. Pastry is NOT a craving you should give in to. In the meantime maybe exercise a bit. Running should do. In about 20 years running will be really cool. Stay ahead of the game! 3) Don’t be jealous of those girls from school who seem to be all that. In a couple of years they’ll have a life that completely doesn’t interest you. In 23 years you’ll wonder why you were ever jealous, some of them are grandparents already, that really wouldn’t make you happy. Also, some of them do not age well. 4) Don’t worry about fitting into a group, you don’t and you never will but that’s actually OK. Be happy and comfortable being you and, believe it or not, some people will wish they we’re more like you (try not to put your ‘majorly freaked out face’ on when they tell you-Awkward) 5) Children aren’t actually the spawn of satan. Well YOURS aren’t (others are). Yes you have children. Don’t think about it too hard just yet, you have a long while before you need to think about it.The first born is very much like you, try to remember this when you feel like you’re arguing with a wall when it is five! In 15 years this insistence that you couldn’t possibly have children because you’re too selfish and would be an utterly terrible mother will pass. Until then remain selfish, in fact I suggests you try being MORE selfish. 6) Anyone who treats you badly should be cast aside instantly. You’re going to have some self esteem issues and some people like to play on that. Be strong. They will always be sorry but they will never change. As long as they feel more powerful and superior than you they’ll continue to be a grade A c**t. You don’t need that, you’re a stronger person than you think. 7) DO NOT GET MARRIED*. Move in with him, buy a house, think it’s a love everlasting and see the relationship through but don’t get married. It will seem like the natural progression it’s just a way of trying to justify yourself and feel like you’re worth something. If you find yourself at the altar, crying and the vicar asks “do you want to take a moment” take it. Take it and run. People will be pissed off but they’ll get over it. It’s a massive pain in the arse changing all your details when you get divorced. 8) On Christmas eve 2010, you’ll get a phone call from a very old school friend. You’ll be exhausted with a new baby and breast feeding woes. She’ll be a bit drunk and very unhappy. She’ll tell you things that are making her sad, she’s very lonely. You will listen and feel sad and you’ll tell her you’re there and you’ll mean it. You’ll tell her you’ll ring on Boxing Day but exhaustion means you’ll forget. Then you’ll forget again. PLEASE take a moment, put it in your phone calendar (that’s an actual thing in the future) and call her. 9) Be true to yourself and have confidence in yourself. You don’t have to be mean but you do have to be honest. Don’t waste time with people you don’t want to be with. Don’t waste time doing things that you don’t want to do. Do what makes YOU happy because no one else is thinking about your happiness. Some people just won’t like you, don’t waste time trying to win them over, they probably aren’t worth the effort. From 2006-2008 you will be in a very strange place, you’ll be partying hard just remember to respect yourself and stay safe. 10) You will be given an ultimatum, stay in Leeds or go home. You’ll be happy in Leeds but you MUST go back. It will be your biggest regret, you’ll have a shit job at a call centre, you’ll no longer be in that art loop that you so desperately want to be in for your future career and you’ll be stuck in a silly little town but you HAVE to do it. If you don’t make the same choices I did then you might not end up as ME. Yes you MAY end up in a better place, or you may not. I wouldn’t risk it. To you, right now at 15 I may seem like a frumpy, almost 40 year old but I’m frickin’ awesome. My life is great, I’m happier than I’ve ever been before, I have an amazing man and our family is fantastic. Although you have a LOT of good times to come there will be some tough times along the way. There will be sadness and hurt that you feel like you can’t survive, lows that you feel you can’t escape. I could advise you of paths to take to avoid those things but I’m afraid you need them to become me. A couple of other things Regret the things you’ve done, not those things you haven’t done. Accountants aren’t all boring. Rum is your drink of choice, you’ll never like cider. Learn French. Curry is good. The amount of friends you have is irrelevant, it’s the quality of friend that counts. What 3 things would you tell your 15 year old self? *Before 2016

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It’s a tough job but someone has to do it. With pleasure.

Anna — Mon, 05 Sep 2016 09:17:00 +0000

The summer break is over. After a glorious week on the Cote D’Azur Rory is back at work, Aoife has just started Year 1 and it’s back to reality (booooo). There’s no other job, yes I referred to parenting as a job – If a job doesn’t get done, things go tits up and things fall apart. If parenting doesn’t get done things go tits up and things fall apart, though to be fair things generally go tits up when I’m on shift anyway. Anyway, I digress. There’s no other job where I would put up with my boss physically attacking me, screaming in my face, throwing my stuff, throwing everyone else’s stuff (I’m thinking dinner plates at the villa we rented last week) and making impossible demands. There’s certainly no other job where I would do it all for free on a 24 hr shift pattern. If most people were at work and their boss called them to the office and said Read this to me they might think Hmmm OK, this is a little odd but what the hey If the boss then stopped them mid-sentence and said NO, I need you to read these sections in a French accent, this bit sounding like a boy and this bit here like Woody from Toy Story They’d reply Heck no and start updating their CV. The CEO The President There’s only so much shit you can clean up from your toddlers back. So many headbutts you can handle. So many times your glasses can be ripped from your face or your hair can be pulled or you can be scratched. There’s only so much food you can have thrown at you or scrape from the walls or floor. There’s only so many times you can retrieve broken pieces of items you rather liked. There’s only so many times you can be summoned at 4 am to replace covers that are well within reach, or find teddies that are *right* there. There’s only so much you can handle before you ask yourself Why on earth did parenthood seem a good idea? Then I think about it and I realise there’s only so long I’ll be needed to do these things. There’s only so long a bedtime story will be required. There’s only so long a hand will need holding or a booboo need kissing. There’s only so long that I’ll be considered the fountain of all knowledge and the fixer of all things. There’s only so long a Mummy cuddle will make things better. There’s only so long that a trip to the cinema with me will seem like fun. There’s only so long they’ll want to holiday as a family. There’s only so long before they’ll feel they’re too old to need me. There’s only so long. My contract is temporary, I’ll be made redundant one day. And so I’ll remember this when I’m up to my eyes in one mess or another, when I feel like I’m just there to serve not as a human. I’ll remember that one day I’ll not be needed for anything, big or small. I’ll remember that although now I may feel insignificant sometimes, these jobs need doing and these processes need playing out and I actually AM of importance in my workplace. One day I’m going to be very sad to have retired. On a lighter note, we just spent a week in France. One evening we’d got Seth down to sleep at a reasonable time so went to sit outside. Aoife came out in her pyjamas and sat next to me. This is what it’s about. Sitting here, relaxing in the sun, enjoying the peace and chatting I tried hard not to laugh What would you like to chat about? Ummm the view? Those trees down there are lovely aren’t they? She’s perfect. Relaxing in the sun.

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“It’s been a bad day, please don’t take a picture”

Anna — Thu, 26 May 2016 09:27:00 +0000

I have debated long and hard whether I was going to share this post today. I’m aware that it shows me at a terribly low point, at my worst and that makes me feel incredibly vulnerable. Saying that, I started this blog largely to be humourous but more importantly to be an honest and hopefully relatable account of the joys of parenthood. Something that maybe someone could read and go “Thank God it’s not just me/my child”. And so, I decided to share. I guess if I get uncomfortable with it I can always delete it. Just do me a favour, if you see me in actual real life, just pretend like you didn’t read it OK? Cheers. Deep breath……. Here we go…… This is a message that I sent Rory the other morning. Do you ever feel like this? Do you ever feel like you don’t deserve your children? Like they would be better with a different parent because your consistently failing them at every turn? I do. A lot. We’ve been having a few difficult nights with Aoife. She’s been shouting and crying at bedtime for no reason that I can get to the bottom of. “Mummy I need you” I go upstairs “What do you want?” “I want Daddy” “But you shouted me” “I changed my mind” Rory goes up and the scene is played out again. We’ve tried ignoring the shouting. It doesn’t work. We agree with her set times that we will go and check on her, she chooses the times, but starts shouting before we’re even at the bottom of the stairs. She wants her bedroom door closing. I close it and go downstairs. She gets out of bed to open it so I can hear her shouting better. She wants socks on. She wants water the water next to her bed passing. She wants a book. She wants to go in my bed. All of these demands screamed and cried at me. Initially I try to explain she can get her own water/socks/books. That doesn’t work. In the end I fulfil each request only for her to declare she wants to move house. The only request I can’t fulfil. This leads to more tears. She shouts “I need you mummy. I neeeeeeeddddd you” I feel awful “What do you need? ” “I need you” I don’t understand this. I’m here, in the room. Sat on the bed. We’ve had cuddles. I can’t be any more here. I don’t know what you want from me. After an hour I’m fraught, confused and at a loss. I’m meant to be making dinner but I’ve not even got as far as the kitchen. I’ve tried being calm, I’ve tried reasoning with her, I’ve tried explaining that I’ve done all that is being asked of me but nothing is making her feel better. Aoife starts shouting more and then I’m shouting and saying mean things. The neighbours are probably thinking we’re trash and calling social services. She’s I’m my bed, she’s got everything she asked for (except the house move) and still she cries. I eventually go downstairs and cry. Big, ugly cry. I can’t stop. I feel frustrated. I feel useless. I feel angry. I feel selfish. I hate myself. I hate how I handled it, or didn’t. I hate that she’s probably thinking how awful I am. I hate that I was mean. I hate that she probably would rather have a different mummy (I believe Miss Bolton is top of the list). I believe deep down she deserves a different mummy. A better one than me. I cry at how much I’ve potentially scarred her by being a short tempered bitch. I think of her in 20 years recounting this night in a therapists office. I feel guilty for thinking I deserved an hours quiet to myself. I feel exhausted. As I sit crying and hating myself I think how I need someone to give me a hug and tell me it’s OK. I’m not alone. Then it strikes me. Maybe Aoife needs me to give her a hug and just tell her it’s OK. Maybe she just needs to cry and have a hug*. The most simple role of a parent and I’ve forgotten it. *Incidentally the hug didn’t work.

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