Time Out

Not forgotten my blog! We have got a lodge for the summer with no internet and only four tv channels which is forcing me to enjoy nature and (would you believe it) my family. There will be a Lodge Blog coming soon so do not fret!

xxx

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.

Getting My Own Back And Other Things I Plan To Do When I Am 85

I've been loving the report in the paper of the 80something man caught off his head on Benylin cough syrup which you can add to my list of things that I wouldn't do now but am looking forward to participating in when I'm 85.

There's a long list of things I plan to do when I'm an octogenarian.

Ever since The Tweenager was born seven years ago, I've become so goddamn responsible and ridiculously conservative in my actions that I need an occasional release in the other direction. Like confining 90 percent of my annual alcohol intake to the school summer fair the other week. I was so rock n roll. I got drunk whilst running the children's tombola stall then went on the spinning teacups and almost threw up. The other big release is my promise to myself to catch up on all the stupid, socially gross and self-destructive things that I'm not participating in now but am going to do in my golden years. I have no bucket list of mystical places or extreme sports. My list is stupid and perhaps illegal things that I'd never get away with as a parent of young children without social services getting involved.

FOR EXAMPLE:

Doing drugs is high on the list. It's been almost a decade since I did any illegal substances. Except after my C section I realised what prescription painkillers can do if you're taking too many when you don't actually need them. And when I'm 85 I will want to feel like that all the time. Realistically I'll have to practice in moderation in case of grandchildren but hopefully I'll be able to indulge when they go home and I'm left alone in my retirement apartment.

Wearing pyjamas everywhere is another must. At the moment, I try and make an effort on my trips to & from the schoolyard and Asda. But since getting The Dog I've been letting myself go a little and I plan to go the full way when I'm 85. And wear a visor with wraparound sunglasses.

Refuse to get in/out of my wheelchair. So these bloody kids will pay for all the time wasted trying to force them into the buggy and carseat.

Soil my incontinence pants at inopportune moments. That'll teach The Toddler for always pooing just as we're leaving for school.

And finally, be very very fussy about food even if I'm being liquid fed and projectile vomit anything green.

I can't wait! I'm going to fun again! Only another 44 years to go...