Model Behavior

I have been terribly remiss about updating this blog, I do apologise and I know you will all be breathing a sigh of relief that the absence isn't because of My Mother's bunions again. Thanks to dad's ministering of God-knows-what they're healing nicely (cue global out breath and subsequent raising of CO2 levels, sorry Mr Gore, forget industry, three inch stilettos are where the problem's at).
It's just that I've been lazy, lazy and a little tired. I do love my family, despite what you all may think, and I do love being a stay at home mum, sometimes. But it's been a long time, over six years of being home alone with a baby/toddler/preschooler and I could do with a break. One which doesn't involve finding something new to do with Jack during the day.
Mother and toddler groups just don't cut it anymore. There's only so many times I can stand in a circle, gripping a child's hand to make him/her stay beside me while waving enthusiastically at the teacher during Hello Hello It's Nice To See You; and I'm not sure how long I can stand to look surprised to find my knees again, or how long Jack can put up with me whispering fiercely at him to make him stay during ring a ring o' roses so I don't have to hold another mummy's hand. The biscuits at the end of the session are a small consolation I suppose, but they do insist on giving the children all the good ones and us mummies the ones that look suspiciously wholemeal. I'd do a lot for a custard cream.
Anyway, during one such session last week (where I rebelled a little and neglected to find my knees), I came up with a great idea to make mummy and toddler sessions (there are no daddies in ours) a lot more fun: Male Model Teachers.
Think about it, it's perfect. As Carlsberg would say, this, Ladies and Gentlemen is probably the best playgroup in the world. The Male Model Teachers (TM) could have a uniform of simple, ripped jeans while their torsos could be all oiled and ripped too.
It would mean that the Hello Hello It's Nice To See You song could have a lot more meaning and feel to it, you know? It really would be nice to see them; crikey you'd even arrive early to see whether they actually change into their uniforms at the village hall as the rumours suggest.
Jack and Jill going up the hill would be a chance to snigger quietly as you winked at each other through the version that has them coming (snigger) down with a daughter. And the Goodbye Goodbye song could provide its own opportunity for pathos and real regret as those glistening pecs were put away for another week.
Biscuit time would be changed forever, especially as the wine suggestion was taken up (and paid for generously) by the committee. Conversation would flow as we all waved away the wholemeal biscuits, and failed to look longingly at the custard creams. Who needs custard creams when you're watching your oh-so-slim figure? (this is a fantasy playgroup remember).
I do hate to gloat, but this really is a simple and quite honestly genius way to transform the lives of any stay at home parent. Groups with dads in them could include female models, or any peccadillo really as long as you clear it with the committee. Let me know what you think, and any models out there looking for a change of career, do get in touch, I'm setting up an agency.

Judgement Day

I really do miss judging other people's children, little ones I mean. Having two young ones myself, obviously I have to be kind and understanding and nod ruefully at the lamentations of various parents about their child's behaviour. There's absolutely no place for judging, no way. Not even when they're shouting in the supermarket (Because Of Additives), or being bribed in the trolley (Filling Them With Additives), or moaning incessantly about wanting something in a shop (Because They're Spoiled) or throwing one helluva tantrum about going to school (Lack Of Discipline In The Home). You see?I have all these brilliant judgements and no one to pour them on. This is because, as you may well have guessed due to the lack of Parenting Pride themed posts on this blog, it's normally my kids doing all of the above, I am not even able to delete any as appropriate.
But because my kids refuse resolutely to grow up faster than the average child (despite what it said on the tin), I'm stuck with two young ones, and therefore doomed to be Understanding about everyone elses. Especially ones showing behaviour learnt from my two.
Before children I used to have a good old judge of other people's children (and by default their parenting skills) at least once a day. Ahhh, it was a beautiful time of ego boosting as I watched behaviour that my future offspring would never be allowed to get away with. Oh yes, you see I knew all about bringing up children, why, I read the Guardian family section every week, I knew all about the pitfalls of parenting, from psychological damage to paying out too much pocket money. Oh yes, I had it all planned out, including the type of labour they would be expected to do to earn the perfect amount of pocket money for their age.
The only light relief I get nowadays is watching the faces of first-time-pregnant mums when we're out and about. Ok, they're still in a place where they may be able to convince themselves that their child experience will be different (because it just will, ok?); they may even be a little smug, still a little judgemental, but in a slightly wary and rabbit caught in headlights way. Oh yes. Because you see they have yet to have their child, their child that may possibly behave in the manner that my child is demonstrating so exquisitely right this minute. They are well aware that Life May Be About To Change. Thus they are extra careful with their accusing glances and even attempt a child-bonding proffering of sweets or hair ruffle in an attempt to say 'ah, it'll be my turn soon ha ha ha ha.'
Of course they don't believe this, in their (hormone flooded) heads, their children will be awash with rice cakes and good feeling. They will bring colouring books and sparkly stickers to the supermarket with which to entertain their children in a healthy and absorbing manner. They will even, when pushed, agree to an Organix Everything Free biscuit, but only in emergencies.
It is opposite these new-pregnant-mummies that I display my children to the fullest. A peacock if you will, to the pea hen's lair. They daren't complain, they're too busy watching me smirk at their bump and daring them to criticise. I even pull my best parenting stunts in front of them, just to give them some tools for later when their little treasures are burying Bob The Builder in the freezer section. I am adept, you see, at the yanking-one-arm-harsh-whisper-in-the-ear-and chocolate-shoved-in-mouth manoeuvre; regard with Wonder and Approval my removal-of-child's-shoes-to-prevent-running-away display (I made that one up myself); gasp at my mastery of the double-child-hair-pull-with-a-back-twist, I even land with both feet together and a flourish of the arms, sometimes to applause - I know, I'd be wishing I was me too.
Obviously, I can give my judgemental streak a good old scratch now and then at teenagers, but it's just not the same is it? Once you've given birth and screamed for the epidural you swore you'd never want, and failed resolutely to Ohmn the baby out in a restful lotus position, you realise with a vomit laden thud that you're doomed to Be Like Every Other Parent. You are not the special, Guardian Family Section educated, Zen like mother you always thought you'd be. And ergo you may not judge.
Bit of a shock that was.

Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

• No
• No thanks
• I said no
• I don't want to pull your finger
• Because I know what will happen
• I do know
• Because I've been married to you for years
• It will not be different this time
• It won't
• Because I've been married to you for years
• And every time you pass wind
• Pass wind
• It's the polite way to say it
• I'm not doing it
• I don't think I'll be pleasantly surprised this time
• I'm not doing it
• I'm sorry if you're getting desperate
• Stop hopping around
• I know it's trying to come out
• Well just go to work
• And do it in the car
• Sorry if that's no fun
• And your boss doesn't like it
• Your finger does not need to be pulled
• It's not a biological necessity
• Or a unique quirk of your physique
• Please don't try to dance your pecs when you say that
• I'm sure it does impress your boos
• And the lady at the checkout
• Because I've been married to you for years
• Just get ready for work
• And put your finger away
• You will not burst
• I assure you
• Stop hopping
• Oh, ok
• I said ok
• I will make it a good one
• Let's just get it done shall we?
• Give me your finger
• There
• All better?
• What?
• What was I supposed to be pleasantly surprised about?
• Oh
• Well
• Yes
• I suppose it is your best yet
• Yes aged oak with citrus undertones is what I was going for

Things I Have Said To My Mother Today

• Oh hello
• I didn't realise you were coming over
• No you didn't
• You didn't warn me
• Well I'd have remembered
• And been out
• Yes I suppose you are here now
• A cup of tea?
• Oh OK
• Yes the milk's fresh
• What's that?
• Your own mug?
• I do wash up properly
• And use good tea bags
• You really didn't need to bring your own
• Why don't you just sit down
• And stop dusting the door
• Over there
• On the chair
• You don't need to do that
• Put a napkin on the chair
• Before you sit on it
• Because it's clean
• OK, but just sit down
• Lovely
• Errr
• Mother?
• Those are interesting boots
• Hmm
• Very red
• And shiny
• And knee high
• Yes you were lucky to get them in your size
• I do like them
• It's just that
• Well
• They're a bit
• Um
• Prostitutey
• It's not a rude word
• What woman in what shop?
• Which shop did you go to
• In town?
• At the bottom of Mill Street?
• Err
• Was this shop woman rather large?
• And tall for a woman?
• Any sign of an adam's apple?
• No, no
• It's just that it's a transvestite shop
• Transvestite
• You know, women's clothes in men's sizes
• Well some men like to
• That's how you managed to get large boots
• Lot's of men do
• Sorry?
• I thought you said like dad
• You did
• Ah
• Err
• I'll just pretend I didn't hear it
• I'm not being prudish
• I'd just rather not know
• Yes I suppose I do know now
• What girl's day out?
• You and dad?
• No thanks
• I said no
• I really don't want to join you on your next one
• Because dad in a dress is not my dream excursion
• I'm sure he does look very becoming
• But I'd rather see him in his gardening trousers
• Like I'm used to
• I'm very sorry that he finds the look restricting
• And rather drab
• But it's just for a while
• Until I leave the country

How Did That Happen?

It appears I may have started to get old, not old as in stooped and hunched and best friends with the commode but the growing up kind of old. First my best friend's little sister went and rather selfishly turned thirty, reminding me that I must be way over that, and now she's gone and gotten engaged. Engaged! To a real person and everything. She's even having a hen night, one to which I've been invited. I was quite chuffed actually, who wouldn't be? Until she let it be known that they thought a few oldies would help keep everyone in line during the drinking games. Drinking games? Surely she's too young?
Last time I saw her she was even discussing kids, much to my horror, I reminded her that she was expected to keep chaste until her wedding night, just as I and Husband had done. The fact that Isla was born three months after our wedding was a small aberration, Isla was one of those quick growing babies, My Mother was dead impressed, she even called the local paper.
Anyway, secondly, I went to my younger brother's leaving do on Saturday night, he's moving to LA with absolutely no thought as to where I'm going to find a replacement Younger Brother (the position is up for grabs if any of you want to apply, must babysit/wash regularly/be more inhibited when discussing his admittedly impressive love life, if I'm going to hire a new one we might as well go for some improvements).
This party was one of those all dayer things: lunch followed by drinking through until closing then attempting to bribe the barman on bended knees for a lock in (if any police officers are reading this, he said no). Obviously because I am now a Grown Up I couldn't go until the evening due to having Responsibilities. I'd missed lunch but sensibly ate a large carbohydrate dinner just before leaving, we wouldn't like to be drunk in front of the babysitter would we? I then proceeded to drink my body weight in wine (some things qualify as Grown Up even if it doesn't sound too mature) and chatter and laugh in a seemly and discreet manner.
It was about this time that I had my big growing up realisation. You see, I went to the toilet and there was no toilet paper. The old, immature, more drunken me would have yelled into the next cubicle to see if the other toilet user had any, the kindly user would then pass some under the door and we'd have a little drunken bonding session about tissue and pubs (you read that right) and all manner of interesting things. We'd then both exit our toilets and smile in an embarrassed manner because we knew we'd heard the other one wee and now we didn't know what to say to each other. But it would have been fun, and an interesting diversion.
But I was denied all this because I had a little packet of tissues in my handbag, you know, just in case. And that's when it hit me, I'm a grown up, a sensible, tissue carrying, proper contraception using, wine sipping, non shot gulping, going to a best friend's little sister's hen night as an oldie, grown up. Dammit. There's only one more place for me to go before the grave now, I get to turn into My Mother.

Goldilocks and the Three Bears. Retold.

Once upon a time in a land far away there lived a family of bears, Daddy Bear, Mummy Bear and Baby Bear. They were a little unusual for a bear family however in that they eschewed the traditional bear family set up and attempted to fit in with the local population by donning clothes and living in a house in the woods. They had been vegetarian for some time and Mummy Bear usually dished up bowls of porridge at each meal. She was not known for her vegetable based repertoire and missed the days when a nice fresh salmon would suffice.
One morning Mummy Bear woke late and rushed the usual porridge order serving it up without a thought as to its consistency or temperature. Baby Bear’s porridge, luckily, was just right, but hers was too cool and Daddy Bear’s far too hot, much to his disgust. They decided, as any family would, to go on a nice walk while Daddy Bear’s porridge cools down, by which point Baby Bear’s porridge will be cold and Mummy Bear’s congealed, but hey ho, that’s what you get for appointing Daddy Bear the head of the family.
While away on their walk, from the other side of the forest came Goldilocks. A deceptively sweet looking girl and as yet unfettered by an ASBO, she was allowed to wander freely about the forest. She decided to do a quick break and enter into the Bears’ cottage just to see if they lived on that foreign muck that her mother claimed they did. Goldilocks wasn't sure what foreign muck was, or why it made her Mother sniff so loudly when she mentioned it, but she was going to find out. All rather exciting actually.
On entering Goldilocks spied the uneaten porridge and having only had Coco Pops herself for breakfast, she decided to give it a try. Finding Daddy Bear’s porridge too hot and Mummy Bear’s too cold, she settled on Baby Bear’s and giving no thought to hygiene finished it all up.
Golilocks’ body reacted to the strange, sugar free breakfast and began to shut down, so she decided to go upstairs and have a little rest. On finding the three single beds that the Bear family occupy rather chastely during the night she tries each one out in turn. Daddy Bears is too hard, mainly due to the plank of wood Mummy Bear inserted under the mattress to help his sciatica. Mummy Bears is too soft, she should never have removed the base and given it to Daddy Bear, sciatica or not. Baby Bears turned out to be just right and Goldilocks fell into an oat induced slumber.
On returning from their walk, the Bear family found Baby Bear’s empty porridge bowl. Baby Bear was secretly pleased and crossed his fingers that Mummy Bear had some Crunchy Nut Cornflakes hidden somewhere. In a fit of temper at having their home invaded the Bear family marched upstairs to search for the miscreant. The Bears found Goldilocks asleep on Baby Bear’s bed and roared in an unfriendly and uninviting manner. Goldilocks woke startled, and fearing for her life ran from the house. Mummy Bear managed to snatch at her ankle, but the electronic tag was all she could grab hold of and it came away with ease. Goldilocks disappeared into the forest towards an uncertain future and untimely motherhood. The Bears retired to discuss What The World Is Coming To over a bowl of porridge.

Make Love Not War

My two year old has decided to potty train himself. Yup, I know what you're all thinking: stupid, weak Mummy strap a nappy on with sellotape and bribe with chocolate. I've tried! I've tried! But he figured out that vaseline de sticks sellotape on the first go, and I already bribe with so much chocolate that I suspected myself of attempting the hostile takeover of Cadbury's.
So he remains nappyless, with not a clue what to do without one. All he knows is that Buzz Lightyear (second hand) pants are far preferable to Barbie nappies (I had a lot left over from Isla, everybody swore blind that boys don't notice what they wear. This is no ordinary boy).
I didn't want him to do it, I wanted to wait until he was three, no strike that, I didn't want to do it at all. I've already done one and the dog, and the latter ensured any excreta training of any sort lost it's appeal. In fact, if I had my way, I would have happily (I think) stayed pregnant for a few more years while my unborn weaned and toilet trained himself in utero. In fact, if he'd done a few exercises and generally put a bit of work in, he could have walked out one day all finished, nodding at me with a sullen wave and a mutter of you're so embarrassing and it's not fair and behold I have a teenager all prepared and ready to fly the nest. If I'm honest, giving birth to a teenager seems an attractive option right now, a little more painful perhaps but to have bypassed the potty training bit? You've got yourself a deal.
Why didn't I think of this years ago?If I'd just had a little strength of character and concentrated on panting instead of pushing, I could have been the first woman alive to produce a ready done adult(ish).
Plus, I could have made a mint out of it. Think of all the book deals, titles like Don't push, sit on it and be patient you idiot. All your problems are about to be solved, come abounding to mind. I'm sure there's something snappier out there but be fair, I've only just thought of all this. And surely I could have sold the story to the tabloids? Think of the field day, the boosted sales as all women want to get in on the act. The Sun could even run a competition asking its readers to guess the amount of dilation needed for a teenager. The prize could be dinner with me. Fancy that, being a prize in a paper.
Obviously my newborn teenager will be incredibly embarrassed at all this attention, but hang that, I was pregnant for fourteen years, yes! try coming back from that one boyo. I will have had ample time to prepare for his most hormonal years and will even tolerate his 'Make Love Not War' T-shirt with a wry smile. I know it's not original, you know it's not original, but hey the lad hasn't been around long. When I discovered the Make Love etc slogan I wore it with pride and no bra. Now there's a statement. I thought I was The Girl, The Pacifist, original and braless until My Mother pointed out that it was her generation that came up with the slogan and the idea of going braless.
"And we did dear"
"Did what?"
"Make love not war, it didn't stop the war but it was a lot of fun. That is of course until your father knocked me up and my dad hit him on the head with a nut cracker until he agreed to marry me. He's still got the bump."
Quite.
Anyway, my Granny informed me that it was her generation that came up with the making love not war thingy, and that they could never afford bras anyway. Granny without a bra, now there's a slogan.

The Ten Commandments

It will come as no surprise to any of you that I routinely spend January making and breaking my New Year's Resolutions. So on Husband's suggestion, I'm going to give myself rules. Rules, apparently, cannot be broken. But we'll see.

1. Thou shalt not lie with thine son, no matter how much he screams and cries. You will only wake up squashed against the wall with Buzz Lightyear grinning manically at you and a smell of nappy wafting gently through the air. You will get no thanks for this, only more whining and smug satisfaction from Husband that he got the run of the bed.
2. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wine. They probably didn't pickle themselves in December, and are probably on the same bottle they started last week. You, on the other hand can barely remember Christmas and had to tip the bin men to take the extra recycling box away.
3. Thou shalt visit thy Granny every week. Despite the fact that she spends the whole time pointing out that the woman in the next bed looks like the transsexual actress from Coronation Street. You will even nod politely as Granny invites the entire ward to meet the actress and wonders loudly about the bits that were removed, even though the lady in the next bed is not hard of hearing.
4. Thou shalt show an interest in your dad's potting shed. And ignore, to the best of your ability, the porn hidden under the seed trays.
5. Thou shalt help your Mother clean your house. This will be a bonding time for both of you. You will, under no circumstances, flinch if she mentions: Dog hair, the whereabouts of the box of sex toys she gave you for your birthday, cobwebs, Husband's prolific use of toilet paper, the smell in the bedroom, Dad's virility, lack of suitable cloths, using effective contraception until you find a decent man, how it was when she was a girl.
6. Thou shalt be on time to pick up Isla from school three times in five, and show the teacher that you're not 'slightly unhinged with OCD tendencies'.
7. Thou shalt be more understanding and giving when Husband nudges you in the back. Even at 6am.
8. Thou shalt invite Pokey, Stu and Bucket Head for dinner, and not: Cancel at the last minute, disinfect the house prior to and after arrival, make jokes using words longer than two syllables, request ID, laugh at Husband laughing at them, serve dinner in a bucket, complain about the vomit.
9. Thou shalt not lie to: the doctor, dentist, giving up smoking nurse, police about the scrape on their car, your Mother about her chances in the lightest sponge competition, Dad about noticing the porn under the seed trays, Dad about porn in his dashboard, Dad in general about porn, Husband about his bald spot or any matter to do with sizing of anything at all. This is a minefield.
10. Thou shalt not blame hormones for any or all of the following: Lack of libido, cobwebs, takeaway for the fourth night in a row, crying at Notting Hill, crying at Star Wars, crying at any baby passed in the supermarket, chooching babies and making a choochy noise while in the supermarket, elbowing Mothers out of the way to chooch their baby, being irritable when Husband steals your chips, forgetting that you drank the last bottle of chardonnay, being cross for cross's sake, bad driving, mounting the curb while driving, forgetting to indicate while driving, putting lipstick on while driving, gaining ten pounds, spending the mortgage on a dress, writing sarcastic things on your blog.

Things I Have Said To My Husband Today

• Ooh thankyou
• I do love Christmas
• Especially the present getting bit
• Ooh this one's nice and squishy
• Is it from you?
• Lovely
• Ummm
• It's very large
• Err
• Um
• Is it a rug?
• A throw?
• A what?
• Slanket?
• What's a slanket?
• I'm well aware that I'm holding one
• But how would one use it exactly?
• For wearing?
• It looks like a two large dog rugs sewn together
• One that the dog would refuse to sit on
• I wear it?
• How?
• Over my head
• Oh I see
• Why?
• Well I'm sure it will be comfortable
• Yes, yes it's lovely
• But really
• Well,
• It would be just as easy to sew two dog rugs together
• And put that over my head
• Yes it would look rubbish
• Exactly
• Well I'll give it a go
• What do you mean there's more?
• More presents?
• No
• Well what then?
• It's big enough for two
• Do you mean the two of us?
• Well I thought maybe you meant you and the dog
• Well why would we sit in a dog rug together?
• It's a naked thing?
• It does not
• It does not say that on the label
• Yes I can read
• Yes it says for naked use only
• But the handwriting gives it away
• As does the small pornographic drawing
• No it doesn't get me in the mood
• At all
• I said At All
• Yes I suppose we could give it a try tonight
• You've rented a DVD?
• To watch?
• Fantastic
• Well yes I suppose we could watch it naked in the slanket
• What's the movie?
• Die Hard
• I think I'll have an early night
• Yes you can borrow the slanket

Things I have said To My Parents Today

• Ooh thankyou
• Happy early Christmas to you too
• I like the wrapping
• Shall I guess?
• Ok
• Err
• Well it doesn't rattle
• It's squareish
• It's quite light
• I'm guessing a book
• Shall I open it?
• Excellent
• I wonder what it is
• Yes I was right, a book
• Sex As You Age?
• Sex As You Age?
• What do you mean I'm quite welcome?
• It may well have got you through some tough times
• But I'm in my thirties
• My Thirties
• I'm not aging
• Or in need of an elderly person's sex manual
• Oh crikey
• There's notes in the margin
• Especially for me?
• Was this your book?
• Dad please don't say Ours like that
• While putting your arm round mum
• Because I'm holding your sex manual
• And sitting next to you
• And trying desperately to think of something pleasant
• And Christmassy
• And not look at the chapter entitled Arthritis Of The Knee And You
• Dad
• Stop winking at mum
• Put your hands where I can see them
• Both of you
• I'm taking away the sherry
• No you can't have it back at bedtime
• Because we're in the room next to you
• And I can see you've put your knee bandage on
• Yes of course safety comes first
• But so does your daughter's mental health
• I'm sure you do have a book on that too
• But really
• No more books OK
• Because my nerves can't take it
• No thanks
• I don't want my other present
• Because it looks suspiciosly like a pot of chocolate
• And a box of knee bandages