Being Middle Class: Acting like a fishwife

Today is a day NOT to mess with me....

If I were terribly, terribly, middle class and frightfully, frightfully proper I wouldn’t have done wot I did in the Tesco Car Park at lunchtime.

I think my father would have described me as acting like a fishwife. At least that would be the polite version.

Mea Culpa

I hold up my hands.

Guilty as charged

BUT

But  I did have an excuse.

Honest.

Come on have you ever had to work from home AND get your kids to do holiday work?

It’s a recipe for disaster and there is a lot to be said for just giving up and giving in and letting them kick back in front of the TV all day eating crisps. It would be so much easier if I did and I’d get a heck of a lot more work done.

But I know better of course.

I get my kids to do their holiday work come hell or high water and it’s usually both.

They whine, I rumble.

They whine some more and muck about, I growl loudly

They stubbornly refuse to get on with it and I start to shout

They shout back and I explode and there are lots of tears.

After about two hours they settle down for five minutes to get on with it and are then distracted and start to whine all over again about how unfair it is that they have to do holiday work when surely none of their friends have to do any…at this point I go into melt down and basically everything all goes horribly wrong.

I storm out of the house leaving a rather shell shocked family behind. I jump in the car and slew my way down the gravel drive before hurtling into town and Tesco where I intend to pick up sandwiches for lunch and grab some cash – any excuse to get me out of the house so I won't actually carry out my threat of murdering my two boys.

So there I am wondering around the Tesco car park and I see a space; I drive into it then notice there is a space in front that I can drive into allowing me a quick forward getaway when I have finished my chore. But there are two, I’ll call them ladies, gossipping in the space. I nudge my car forward to get them to move so I can park.They stop talking and glare at me momentarily before carrying on.

I wait for them to move.

They don’t.

I rev the engine a little more in case they don't realise that I wish to park where they are standing. I expect them to raise their hands in apology and move away.

They don't instead older woman barks out: “What’s your problem.” Before turning her back on me to carry on talking to her friend.

Normally I would have got all embarrassed and apologised for trying to park and all that but today I have had enough.

Today I am NOT going to be polite.

Today no one had better get in my way.

I flip.

Today I am a real witch.

I rev the car more and hit the horn LONG and LOUD as I drive forward.

"What do you think you are playing at!!" she hollers at me.

"I am parking my car..."

"You could park anywhere!"

"But I don’t want to park anywhere," I say sweetly through gritted teeth."I wish to park here..."

"Well am talking to my friend and I can talk to my friend wherever I like!"

"Great next time try doing it in the middle of the motorway. In the meantime I am parking my car right where your standing - so shift…"

I am not sure if I would have driven right over them but I am glad that they thought I might have driven straight over them.

They even backed right off when I got out of the car still hurtling insults as they walked away.

I should have left it like that.

But as I said: NOT today.

I stalk after them with murder plainly written across my face.

"You want to take this further? Do you? Come on then…"

I honestly believe that I would have got into a full on scrap there and then in the middle of the Tesco car park – talk about anger transference!

They scarpered and I felt…

Brilliant!

It was a total relief.

No shaking, no guilt, no shame.

Went into Tesco and was utterly charming to everyone.

Frightfully Middle Class….

Bringing up Boys: ARRRGGGGHHHHHHH

Sometimes that is the only way to deal with the boys.
SHOUT
SCREAM
And Holler a bit.
It is quite exhausting but effective....eventually.
I have a loud voice, thank heavens, otherwise I would have been totally rolled over (metaphorically speaking) and completely out of control.
As it is I am only mildly out of control but those looking on may beg to differ.
If I had had a quiet and unassuming way about me then I fear things could have been a lot worse. I would be one of those mothers who ineffectually asks her son to stop being so rough with Little Johnny as he may not like being  put head first down in the toilet and to not pull the pretty picture off the wall in the Sainsbury wing of the National Portrait Gallery as other people may want to look at it too.
No, with my boys I have found there is only one way to get through to them...
Say NO to any request and shout when they fail to obey an order immediately; in fact shout the order first just so they know that what you are saying is important.
I would love to just be able to request they do something but I have found that they just ignore me especially when they think they have something better to do.
So I gird my loins in the morning to get them up, we start off pleasantly enough. Good mornings are said and curtains are drawn and I'll add a chirpy little comment about the day ahead.
But by the time I have tripped over the plethora of toys and dirty clothes strewn across the floor and trodden on the ubiquitous bit of Lego in my bare feet to reach the effing curtains I am in top notch scream mode - it gets them out of bed quick enough.
Getting them brushing teeth and going to the loo, washing their faces etc is like wading through treacle it takes so long. I goad and plead and threaten and hassle before stomping off downstairs threatening them with dire consequences if they don't get down here in five minutes.
About twenty minutes later they are just about ready to have breakfast and I am boiling like a kettle. Food is thrust at them and any pretence of requesting and asking nicely has been banished for the duration.
I do try, honest I do! I keep saying to myself I need to be nice adn calm and motherly, but whenever I am, I just feel I am being taken advantage of.
I love them to bits but there is only one way to deal with them - shout like Sergeant Major and order not ask.
It hasn't done them any harm as far as I can see. And as I type this out they are waiting for me in their bedrooms to say goodnight, they are trying very hard not to giggle but failing...dismally..
PS. When I want them to feel real fear I, of course, just whisper...