mummy blogger Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

All good things must come to an end

Anna — Fri, 25 Nov 2016 17:06:13 +0000

And so, it is with a heavy heart that I have to announce the end of my 10 year relationship. It had it’s ups and downs. We had good times and bad. We’ve made dates, we’ve broken dates. We’ve shared good news with others and bad news too. We’ve been through so much together. We’d stopped making an effort. I wasn’t offered the same wonderful promises newer, younger, people were offered. It was my longest relationship and now it’s over…. I have broken up with my mobile phone company. So that’s it. Done. I know I instigated it but that doesn’t make it any less sad. Tonight I will drink the wine of sadness…. Tomorrow my newer, younger model will arrive 🙂

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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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“To perform like Linford, you’ve got to think like Linford….”

Anna — Tue, 13 Sep 2016 19:15:28 +0000

n the 90s, Kris Akabusi (the most smiley athlete in all the land, nay the world) told us we had to have PMA to succeed. Positive Mental Attitude. OK, so he was trying to flog us a certain brand of washing powder but it’s always stuck with me, if in a lighthearted way. When stuff is a bit tough or if someone has an interview I’d declare “PMA” but I didn’t really think anything of it. Until now. I’ve mentioned a couple of times I’ve been doing a lot of positive thinking of late. It was a conscientious decision, which I appreciate is a bit weird, but bear with…. Every day, when I wake up I spend a couple of minutes thinking about the things I am grateful & thankful for and the things I want to happen, both big and little.The obvious things like my children, Rory, my health, a decent nights sleep, a well behaved child. Then throughout the day, in (rare) moments of quiet I think again about the things that have made me grateful, thankful and happy that day. The dogs in the car that made me smile, the stranger who said hello, having a good catch up with a friend, the sun shining, making five minutes to chat to the neighbour rather than dashing off, Seth trying to say ‘squirrel’ (seriously, it’s too cute), a friend having happy news, a good cup of coffee. Anything and everything that has made me smile or feel thankful I have listed mentally (and sometimes physically). I know this sounds simple but at first it was incredibly hard to do. It really shouldn’t be, it should be so easy to walk along the street, see something that makes you smile and be thankful but it is hard. Maybe because I’m such a negative ninny. Maybe because we all tend to overlook the small things as inconsequential when actually they are as important than the big things. But now I’m well into it and you know what? I swear it works. I generally feel better and happier. I catch myself with a small smile on my face for no reason. I feel more positive about life and now life doesn’t seem to have quite as many tough moments. I feel like I can actually achieve something (I don’t know what yet but it doesn’t matter, I CAN FRICKIN’ DO IT). I even (and this is the big one) seem to have a better attitude toward myself. I used to look in the mirror and say to myself “My God, you disgust me. Look at you, you’re awful. Why do people bother with you?” (I was pretty mean) But just the other day, I looked in the mirror and I said to myself “Crikey, you’re looking old but today you look OK” and that felt good! I know this approach won’t work for everyone, everyone has different issues and things going on but speaking about me and for me alone. This works. I’ve realised I was surrounded by negative people, probably because I was so negative myself, and it got me stuck in a loop. I’m still there for my friends and I will be always, night or day but I’ve realised I can’t be responsible for their happiness and I can’t take it all in and dwell on it on their behalf. There are still massive difficult moments but instead of just getting down and thinking the worst I know try to turn a negative into a positive. Aoife having a massive meltdown is not fun but I am grateful that she has the intellect to vocalise her opinion even though it may seem cheeky and sassy (and sound a LOT like something I would say)… A friend might be having a hard time and I feel powerless to make them feel better but I am grateful that they feel they can tell me they are having a hard time as that itself MAY have helped them feel a bit lighter or just like someone cares. So yes, that’s all the hippy shit I’m up to but it’s working. I don’t know who I’m telling or thanking. It could be God, the universe, life, nature. I suppose that’s for us to decide personally. But I would definitely suggest you try it, just for a week. Write down everything, be amazed at how the small things define your mood. Believe that good things will happen. I now try not to say “I might” instead I try to say “I will” even if it sounds ridiculous. I appreciate everything and everyone I have. Except you, yes you there, at the back (Kidding). That fact I can look in the mirror without (mostly) feeling self loathing and the fact that for the first time in five years I can actually see myself as a decent mummy is enough for me ? I do, however, worry that my new found optimism will render me humourless, because, you know, I was pretty funny before…… Just a note here, I had written this post earlier today, before I spent an hour at the hairdresser in front of the most unflattering mirror EVER. I noted my cheeks are too wobbly, my jowls are setting in, my roots need colouring, my chins are too many, my hips too wide and I’m almost certain I see the makings of a moustache. Given that lengthy list it was pretty tough to find a positive. I did find one though. I am grateful that my hairdresser clearly didn’t do maths at school and mistook 2 inches for 4 inches as it actually worked out OK for my head in the end. PMA See. It works. Also, I hope you all like my new blog. Got me my own name in a website (it is almost like my name in stars) and I think it looks cleaner. Feedback would be appreciated, unless it’s mean. .

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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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(S)he who does not ask remains a fool forever…..

Anna — Wed, 01 Jun 2016 10:21:00 +0000

It’s that time again, HALF TERM. Time for me to do some of that ‘proper parenting’ that I’ve heard about…. Obviously it’s blowing a hoolie outside (well it IS June) so we’re mostly in house. Aoife being here full time has made me realise exactly how many questions she asks me and this led me to think about all the questions I ask in a day… Why do children never use their indoor voices indoors? Why do Thomas the tank engine & his friends have drivers if the drivers don’t actually control them? Why aren’t the humans scared? Why does Seth need to walk up the street backwards leaning on my legs? Why must Aoife pick up every feather she finds on the street and rub it on her face? Where are Max & Ruby’s parents? Why does Seth need to start eating stones the minute we’re going to cross the road? Why do drivers get a grumpy face on when you don’t want to cross the road into fast flowing traffic just because they were kind enough to stop for you? Is sausage roll and popcorn a balanced and nutritious lunch? Do the Bananas in Pyjamas eat other fruits? Why does Seth touch his food or cup to his neck before he eats it? How can Aoife suddenly dislike the very meatballs that she’s loved for the last three years? Why is Blaze the only monster machine with a driver? Why aren’t the humans scared? What time is ‘too early’ for wine? Why do children need less sleep than me? Why do you get an itchy nose when you’re holding hands with two children and trying to carry a heavy bag of shopping? Why can’t my children stay on their feet? Why do they have a delay in responding to anything I say but have bat like hearing when food stuffs are being opened in a different room? Why does Xabi give teeth kisses when he wants to be stroked? Why do I have a conservatory full of toys when they show no interest in them until I want to get rid of them? Why do they have more clothes than me? Why does no one tell Peppa Pig off for being rude? Why do they have better social lives than me? Why don’t they sleep when they get tired? Are we really the rulers of our own destiny? Why do they make that awful ‘I’m actual choking’ noise every time I go to the loo? Why are they allowed to talk and sing constantly but I’m not? Why in Paw Patrol is an 11 year old boy in charge of emergencies and a woman with a chicken voted in as Mayor? Why is no one worried about talking dogs? Why are they willing to attempt to scale bookcases to reach something but aren’t able to reach for their own drink right in front of them? How did I fill my time before children? Why can’t they walk around people in shops instead of trying to walk through them? If all the male fairies are adults and they only have daughters, who will eventually rule the Little Kingdom? Why do they shout ‘HELP’ in their ’emergency’ voice for non emergencies? Why don’t children like to try new things? Why does Seth like Postman Pat the movie so much when it’s so very clearly flawed from start to finish? Why do the good things taste so bad and the bad things taste so good? Why don’t diet and exercise work right away? More people would stick to it I’m sure. When will the Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum get together? Ugg boots and shorts-how can your feet and ankles be cold but your knees and thighs be warm? Why do children say “look at this….NO CLOSE YOUR EYES” Should I worry that it’s quiet in there or just appreciate the peace? Why does Seth kangaroo kick me in the throat every time I change his nappy? Why do they insist on standing on my feet? Why can’t they get off my knee without using their elbows/pointy bits? If they accidentally kill me by constantly leaping on me will anyone be able to get in the house to retrieve my body before the cats start eating me? Is it time for bed yet? Why is my wine consumption directly related to their behaviour? How can the sun go on holiday if it’s got no hands to use the internet? (This is Aoife’s contribution) The Tale of Mummyhood

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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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Playdates – Why do we do it?

Anna — Wed, 18 May 2016 18:56:00 +0000

Before I was 30 I’d have said I wasn’t a fan of children, I didn’t like them one bit. They absolutely weren’t for me and I’d never have one. Ever. Then I hit 30 and was struck with an overwhelming urge to procreate. I don’t know where it came from or why, but there it was and so,a couple of years later I found myself with two children all of my very own. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not a fan of children, or more specifically children that aren’t mine. My children are fabulous, I adore every last little bit of them but other children? Nope. To be fair it’s not ALL children. I can probably count on mine and Rory’s hands the children I DO like. Rory is exactly the same. We are both quite intolerant of Other People’s Children (referred to as OPc from hereonin) We tend to avoid soft play due to OPC. A trip to a wildlife park will result in one of us rolling our eyes and uttering “bloody OPC” (I’m aware this makes us sound like terrible people. Don’t worry, we LOVE your child/ren). Alas, a while ago an OPC entered our house for a ‘playdate’. It was a difficult time. The first thing the OPC did was ask for food, luckily I was biscuit prepared (I usually avoid having biscuits in because, you know, I eat them). We dished out squash and biscuits, all was good. I was the hostess with the mostest. Then OPC spotted Seth’s Paw Patrol character. OPC – “Urgh, my sibling likes Paw Patrol” Aoife – “I do too!” OPC – “But it’s soooooo babyish” Aoife – “No it’s not” OPC – “hff yes it is! It’s babyish” Me – *thinks, look mate, you’re 6 not 16 – I’m wading in* Me – “It isn’t, I love Paw Patrol, Chase is my favourite” Rory – “Marshall is mine” Aoife – “Skye is mine” OPC – “Skye is my favourite too” Nice back pedal pal. Rory decides he must leave the house at right that moment. He’s leaving me to fly solo with an OPC in the house! They decide to go upstairs, the only rule is not to go into my bedroom. It’s a pretty easy rule – you’d think. I hear them in my bedroom. I shout up “Can you get out of my bedroom please?” OPC – “But the cats are in there and I want to see them” Me – “It doesn’t matter, I don’t want you in my room please.” OPC – “The cats are in there though” Me – “I know, I think they’re probably hiding from you” *I wish I could* OPC – *hisses at cats* “Come here cats. What are they called?” Me – “Louis and Xabi, now please just come out of my room” OPC – “Sit, sit, come here” *hiss noises” Me – “They’re not dogs, they won’t want to come if you hiss at them. Please. Just. Come. Out. Of. My. Room” They come downstairs. OPC – “Let’s play ‘Dont’ take Buster’s bones'” Aoife – “No, I don’t like it. It scares me” OPC – “But I WANT to play it” Me – “Aoife, if your friend wants to play it maybe you could have one game?” Aoife – *hesitates* “Well OK, but don’t put Buster close to me” OPC – “OK” * frantic barking and a shriek* Aoife – “Mummy, OPC pointed Buster at me and made him bark on purpose and he scared me” Me – *FFS* “OPC, that wasn’t nice. Aoife told you she was scared of it so it’s pretty mean to do that.” OPC – “If you don’t like it, I’ll just take it to my house. I’ll have it” Me – “It’s ok here thank you” OPC – “I’m hungry” Me – “You had a biscuit” OPC – “Yeah, only one though. At home I have two” Me – *Well go back to your two biscuit house then* OPC – *Points to reindeer teddy* “Really!? Why do you have a CHRISTMAS teddy when it’s not Christmas” Me – *1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10* Me – “Because it would be silly to get the teddy out only for December when Aoife and Seth can play with it all year” OPC – “Pfft, REALLY!?! Why do you still have an advent calendar up?” Me – “Because we haven’t finished it, obviously” OPC – “I’ll take it home” Me – “It’s ok thanks, it’s fine just where it is” Rory returns and enters kitchen looking busy/guilty. Aoife – “Do you want to dress up? I have lots of dresses” OPC – “No, I’m going to do drawing” Me – “Actually, your responsible adult will be here soon so we’re not getting the colouring out. Can you both start to tidy the toys away please?” OPC – “No.” Me – “Oh” I leave room, re-enter. OPC is drawing I go to kitchen where I tag Rory in. OPC’s responsible adult comes to collect. RA – “did OPC behave?” Rory – “Yes. Absolutely fine” Me – *WTF?* They leave. Aoife- “That was fun, can OPC come to play again soon?” Me- “You barely played together, OPC was pretty rude and just wanted to take all your things home. Did you honestly have a good time?” Aoife – “Yes!” It makes me proud that Aoife is a better person than me, seeing the good in everyone. Still, nothing makes you appreciate your own children like an hour with OPC. Identities are purposely vague to avoid identification. It totally wasn’t your child though. Honest *winky face*

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Oh what a beautiful morning, Oh what a beautiful day…..

Anna — Thu, 05 May 2016 10:10:00 +0000

…So I’ll spend it inside blogging a blog and watching trash TV. Parenting like a pro…… A couple of weeks ago we had to reintroduce the tick system. You know the one, if there’s good behaviour a tick is received, if a certain amount of ticks are received a treat is on the cards (I know there are probably some parents who find this a horrendous act but it’s literally the only thing that works with Aoife and I don’t have the energy to argue black is white daily so no apologies from me). Anyway. We’ve had two brilliant weeks. She’s been back to her lovely, kind old self. We’ve had conversations instead of rows. She seems to actually like me. It’s been fantastic (this is not to say that other times are not fantastic, they’re just ‘difficult’) The only little issue is Aoife doesn’t seem to have learnt how to ‘behave’ better (that’s a really bad way to put it. I’m not a dictator, honest) instead she’s just been suppressing the not so good behaviour and now she’s starting to bubble….. It starts small. “Does decent mean safe?” “No, it means like good” “And safe?” “No it’s nothing to do with safe” “But it could mean safe” “No it couldn’t. It means good” “You’re not listening to me, decent could mean safe” “No, no it couldn’t. A word has a meaning and you can’t just change it.” “MUMMY YOU’RE NOT LISTENING, IT COULD MEAN SAFE” “But it couldn’t. It doesn’t. You don’t have to argue with everything I say and you can’t argue with fact” “Urgh. I’m not going to bother talking if you just ignore me!” “I’M NOT IGNORING YOU, YOU’RE IGNORING ME!” Needless to say, she’s still talking. We’ve also had a lot of…. “I do not like your attitude!” “You’re being rude.” “I won’t be listening to you anymore!” These are just some of the gems Aoife has come out with over the last few weeks. I know it’s pretty cheeky stuff from a 5 year old. Ultimately she’s just copying what she hears from us around her (except the last one. Not listening is not an option) I’ll be honest, I’d probably laugh if it was someone else’s child but it’s actually pretty bloody frustrating. “Aoife, we don’t call people stupid. Don’t do that again please” “Don’t you dare say that to me again, you’re being so rude Mummy” Or “Please can you get in the bathroom and get undressed for bed? I’ve asked you three times” “I don’t like your attitude telling me what to do, stop it” Where do I go from there? How can I communicate with her that certain behaviours aren’t so good when she’s just turning it around and using it back on me. BUT I’M NOT EVEN BEING NAUGHTY. It’s like having a teenager already. Rory has already declared his intention to move out for Aoife’s teenage years. To be honest, I think it’d be better for me to move out for those years, we may have more survivors then! “Morning, how did you sleep” “Nooooo don’t ask me that” “OK, what’s wrong?” “Nooooooo” “Oooooookaaaaayyyy” “Ask me again” “Ask you what?” “The questions” “How did you sleep?” “NOO NOT THAT QUESTION. ASK ME THE QUESTIONS IN ORDER” “I don’t know what you mean. Are you OK?” “Ask me the questions properly” “I don’t know what questions I’m meant to ask!” “The questions you ask me” “Do you want to go to your room, then come back and start today again?” “THAT’S NOT THE QUESTION!’ * hides under covers* Oh tricky times! Anyway, by my reckoning it’s Pimms O’clock (in the fantasy world in my head). Enjoy!

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