Showing posts with label Bad Mother Moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bad Mother Moments. Show all posts

Tuesday, 4 June 2013

Bad Mother Moments #4 - A case of not believing when your youngest says he’s feeling sick while looking at a plate of salad…




This is What I Think of Greens!
It is a truth universally acknowleged, that a small boy in possession of a dish of greens, must be in want of a way to get rid of it. And if that way is to throw–up then throw-up one must.
Problem is this does not endear you to your parents - in particular your Mum, who lives in fear that you will never grow because you don’t always eat your one a day let alone your five.
Thus was I faced with a rebellious small boy on Sunday evening flatly refusing to eat his salad.
“It makes me sick!”
“Horrocks! Greens never made anyone sick!”
“They will you know! They’ll make ME sick!”
Shades of Violet Elizabeth  Bott, I thought murderously. We have been battling for months with Bog Boy to get him to eat fruit and veg, especially the green stuff, and after a long half term, and an equally long Sunday, this latest mutiny was one too far and I flipped:
“If you throw up I will make you eat it all back up!”
I didn’t think he was going to be sick, honestly I didn’t! I just wanted him to stop being a pain in the neck and just get on and eat his supper including his greens. I was tired and I wanted both my boys in bed so I could finally relax safe in the knowledge that tomorrow it would be someone else’s problem.
I gave him a gimlet-eyed stare and stomped off in to the TV room before I said anything further. Sometimes it is safest to leave them to it.
There was very little sound from the kitchen and all seemed to be going well but then there was the most almighty wail. The kind of wail that has any parent up in a flash. The wail when you know your child is not mucking about and that this is an emergency.
The sight before my eyes was not pretty but it was the terrible moans escaping from Bog Boy that wracked me most:
“Oh NOooooooo” he sobbed almost incoherently, “I’m going to have to eat it all up!”
Of course I didn’t make him do anything of the sort but I was still angry. Little toad had drunk so much water he’s effectively made himself sick.
Fast forward to Monday and off they trundled to school with Bog Boy still behaving  in a ridiculous manner saying he was going to be sick if he ate breakfast.
He was still complaining at suppertime but everything had gone well at school so he had to be alright surely.
Supper was lovely Spaghetti Bolognese with a rich homemade tomato sauce. I promise he did not eat that much but at 10 o clock just as I was going to let the dogs out and trundle off to bed I heard a creaking on the stairs and was met by a wan little face with the most enormous eyes.
“I really have been sick this time Mummy and I didn’t make myself!”
Oh boy had he been sick several times along the corridor, the bathroom and oh dear god all over his bed the floor and everywhere – even bless him on his teddies Jelly and Puppy! There was not a hope in heck that he had made himself do this!
I felt SO very guilty! My poor little mite had been telling me he wasn’t well and I bad mother had totally ignored him!!!
PS. My Poor little mite is not going into school until Thursday and in the meantime he is sitting next to me playing on my ipad. The best cure for being sick he says….

Tuesday, 24 January 2012

Bad Mother Moments #2 - The difference between boys and girls explained....


I don’t know why it is but the smallest room in my house is my favourite. Actually it isn’t exactly the smallest room; the larder is the smallest room and is my second favourite place in the house.
We use “smallest room” as a euphemism for the lavatory.
Granny’s bathroom is in fact my favourite “smallest room” being almost suffocatingly warm thanks to a radiator and a hot towel rail, which is on permanently as a release loop for the boiler.
It is the place where I go for peace.
Solitude.
Quiet
To contemplate life without life getting in the way.
Problem is that this particular “smallest room” has a faulty door which refuses to shut properly so you can never lock it.
Invariably just as I want to use the “smallest room” my boys get this urgent desire to be with me, as close as physically possible.
It means that you can’t ever quite relax. You can’t switch off and pretend they aren’t there, ignoring the frantic knocking at the door. Not when they are pushing against it and loudly declaiming they want to come in while you frantically try to fob them off and at the same time hold the door closed with your feet. It doesn’t make doing the necessary very easy.
I have tried alternative “smallest rooms” in the house (we have four others) but they are not the same. To be honest they are all far too cold and so not places where you might want to contemplate anything other than the job at hand and vacating as soon as possible.
I have tried sneaking off, not telling them where I am going, but it must be one of those child/mother bonds that mean that they are drawn to where you are like a magnet.
It has led to some interesting questions and invariably some very inappropriate answers.
Him: “What are you doing?”
Me: “Going to the loo.”
Him: “Are you doing a wee or a poo?”
Me: “None of your business.”
Him: “Why?”
Me: “Because sometimes Mummy’s like doing things in private…”
Him: “Why?”
Me: “Just because…”
Him: “It’s very warm in here…”
Me: “Yes it is. Why don’t you go away now and let Mummy be.”
Him: “Where’s your willie?”
Me: “I haven’t got one.”
Him: “Why?”
Me (totally exasperated): “Because I was very naughty and kept asking my Mummy silly questions while she was on the loo and it got chopped off….!”

Wednesday, 18 January 2012

Bad Mother Moments #1


Everybody does it.
I mean everybody has done something like it.
No?
Really?
Are you sure?
Is it just me then?
OH! COME! ON!
Everyone has Bad Mother Moments.
Maybe not as bad as this one but pretty bad I am sure.
Mine happened because I got distracted. I was having a lovely chat and a catch-up aided by a rather superior bottle glass of Shiraz with my mate J.
We were putting the world to rights, talking aesthetics and whether or not puce and heliotrope would go in the drawing room.
The boys were settled quietly in front of Deadly 60 and hadn’t been in to bother us for ages. No demands for food or crisps or the fact that they were hungry.
So it is hardly surprising that it happened. In fact you could say it wasn’t my fault at all.
However, J suddenly realised the time, way past 7 o’clock and I realised that the boys had to go to bed. Tout de Suite!
“Right Boys! Off you go now up to bed…”
“But Mum…”
Typical always trying to watch more TV, always trying to push the boundaries, always wanting to stay up longer…
“No arguing, just do as you’re told”
“But M…
“I said NO ARGUING!”
Honestly they try the patience of a saint they really do.
I hassled them like a demented sheepdog, hushing their protestations before the words were out of their mouths.
I got them undressed and teeth washed and into bed.
They were unusually fractious and I must admit I got really rather cross.
I do believe I snarled.
Anyway I finally got them off to bed. Lights out and all quiet.
And then as I came downstairs to say goodbye to J I noticed that the table was laid up.
I was just about to thank him for laying for breakfast when the horrible truth dawned.
It was still laid up for supper.
My poor boys had been hassled to bed without anything to eat.
Needless to say I shot back up the stairs grabbed my boys and gave them supper much to their relief.
J of course found this highly amusing and has been regaling all and sundry with my Bad Mother Moment. I have quite a reputation to live down in the village…there again HE has quite a reputation to live down regarding my cats and the fact that HE has been in charge when BOTH of them died… now one maybe an accident but two looks like a conspiracy!

Go on you know you want to...

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