If You're In A Good Situation, Don't Worry It'll Change

Just when things were going okay and I was (gasp) feeling positive about the summer holidays, The Tomboy dropped a clanger of a tantrum which made me remember why I started this blog in the first place. I thought my days of tantrums were over, except for The Toddler, (two months free of embarrass-mum-in-public moments so far) so I was gobsmacked by The Tomboy's performance yesterday.

Fortunately The Tweenager was being lovely which generally happens when The Tomboy loses it. And vice versa. They get a kick out of the other one being in Big Trouble. And Big Trouble is not a place you want to be when I am feeling hot & bothered on the way back from school.

It all started with me talking to The Tweenager about getting him a bigger bike. Bearing in mind that The Tomboy likes all things black and boyish, I thought what a perfect idea to give her his old bike. But I was forgetting that you can't predict The Tomboy. As soon as she got wind that The Tweenager might be getting a new bike, she went mental. And I mean that crashing to the floor, screaming like a banshee, shouting "YOU ARE A STUPID MUMM-EEEE" kind of craziness that always happens in public when a Perfect Mother is walking by. Plus the addition of her being slap bang in the middle of the road when it happened. Thankfully The Tweenager was being a sweetie and The Troublesome Toddler was asleep, otherwise I would have just laid down in the street with her.

Now it takes a lot to make me smack. I don't always agree with my reasoning behind it, but hey, if it makes me feel better than why not. So I tapped her on the bum. "Ha" she said, "That didn't hurt". So you know what I did? I dumped her scooter in the nearest hedge and dragged her by the arm, hoping her body would follow, all the way home and shut her in the bedroom. Which might sound a bit harsh, bearing in mind that it was partly my fault.

A good mother, you see, would have predicted this tantrum. Any promise of new stuff to a sibling is bound to cause a major freak out from the other child. But being in a glass-half-full sort of place, I thought everything was going swimmingly. (Needless to say my glass is now very empty and very smashed). Mentioning a new bike in front of The Tomboy is the equivalent of holding a bacon sandwich to a newly turned vegetarian.

So after recovering from my post traumatic stress, I have decided to analyse the situation and have come up with the following formula:

SIBLING RIVALRY + CRAP PARENT = TANTRUM = MOTHER LOSING THE WILL TO LIVE

Which will be handy to know when the new bike arrives. And The Tomboy has to see it every day.