In an ideal world I would have unlimited hours to my day, never get tired and have immaculately dressed, well behaved children.
In the real world I have no time, no energy and slightly grubby, cheeky children.
I wouldn't swap them for anything but every now and then it would be nice to dip in to another world then return home.
One day I could try out the celebrity lifestyle. Spend the day shopping, getting a manicure and other trivial things.
The next i could be at home, elbow deep in playdough and unidentified sticky goop.
When that got a bit tedious I could dip in to another life and save a leopard/tiger/insert animal here and then return back to the normality of figuring out dinner.
It would be the best of all worlds. Skimming the surface of everything my younger self wanted to do yet maintaining the commitments my present self made.
Even my 2 year old agrees. Although he does want to be a space ranger so I can see the appeal!
There's not enough lives for the things I want to do and although there is nothing wrong with the life I have every now and then it's nice to escape to the worlds I thought I would inhabit.
Friday, 21 October 2011
Parenting Guilt
This week has been rather stressful. It started off so well but Jack (aged 2.9) came home from nursery on Monday with a slight temperature. I didn't think much of it as he's always a bit hot but by Tuesday there was no escaping the inevitable.
The dreaded lurgy was here.
5am Tuesday morning I was awaken by a pitiful wailing combined with a horrible retching sound. My little boy was hot enough to heat the entire flat for the whole of winter and he could barely keep his eyes open.
I dosed him up with calpol and settled him back to sleep in my bed. Closed my eyes and then.....
"mama mama mama" followed by giggles.
Alexandra was awake. Perfectly healthy and wanting to play (toddler speak for undivided attention, don't you even think about housework when you could be building towers of blocks for a 16 month old to gleefully knock down)
And so it began. The week of not knowing who's needs to meet first. A week of trying in vain to get a doctors appointment whilst wrestling 3 months worth of study notes out of a toddlers mouth and trying in vain to get a spoonful of calpol down a squirming boy.
Then the guilt sets in. Surely an hour or three of nick junior won't hurt if it gives me time to catch up on the housework and comfort my son.
Or that I gave in and let said son have a cupcake for breakfast yesterday as I was so relieved he wanted to eat.
I spent any free time frantically batch cooking pasta sauces, cottage pies and banana bread but he wouldn't eat these. In a desperate attempt to get him to eat I broke out the turkey dinosaurs and chips.
Cue more guilt. And then some more when after days of trying to get Jack to eat home cooked healthy meals he devoured the junk from the freezer in seconds.
Parenting, I've decided is nothing like the books said it would be.
The daily battles of conscience start from the moment they arrive.
Breast or bottle?
Sling or cry it out?
Nursery or pre-school?
Work or stay at home?
Hummus or biscuits?
I've decided that I'm no longer beating myself up about not being a touchy feely earth mother type.
Whilst I admire those that can do it, it just isn't me. Some days I will play for hours, others I'll chuck them some paint and let them figure it out.
I give them good food, it's up to them to eat it.
They have unconditional love but they'll still get told off when it's needed.
There's many different parenting philosophy's yet people seem to neglect what is, in my opinion, the most important.
You know your children. The parenting gurus in the pages of the book don't. You known if they need a 45 minute nap in a dark room with no comfort. You also know if they don't.
Parenting isn't about looking in a book or an online forum for the answer. It's about trusting that you know what's best and that the occasional biscuit isn't going to create out of control obese children who rampage through towns destroying bakeries.
Hopefully.
The dreaded lurgy was here.
5am Tuesday morning I was awaken by a pitiful wailing combined with a horrible retching sound. My little boy was hot enough to heat the entire flat for the whole of winter and he could barely keep his eyes open.
I dosed him up with calpol and settled him back to sleep in my bed. Closed my eyes and then.....
"mama mama mama" followed by giggles.
Alexandra was awake. Perfectly healthy and wanting to play (toddler speak for undivided attention, don't you even think about housework when you could be building towers of blocks for a 16 month old to gleefully knock down)
And so it began. The week of not knowing who's needs to meet first. A week of trying in vain to get a doctors appointment whilst wrestling 3 months worth of study notes out of a toddlers mouth and trying in vain to get a spoonful of calpol down a squirming boy.
Then the guilt sets in. Surely an hour or three of nick junior won't hurt if it gives me time to catch up on the housework and comfort my son.
Or that I gave in and let said son have a cupcake for breakfast yesterday as I was so relieved he wanted to eat.
I spent any free time frantically batch cooking pasta sauces, cottage pies and banana bread but he wouldn't eat these. In a desperate attempt to get him to eat I broke out the turkey dinosaurs and chips.
Cue more guilt. And then some more when after days of trying to get Jack to eat home cooked healthy meals he devoured the junk from the freezer in seconds.
Parenting, I've decided is nothing like the books said it would be.
The daily battles of conscience start from the moment they arrive.
Breast or bottle?
Sling or cry it out?
Nursery or pre-school?
Work or stay at home?
Hummus or biscuits?
I've decided that I'm no longer beating myself up about not being a touchy feely earth mother type.
Whilst I admire those that can do it, it just isn't me. Some days I will play for hours, others I'll chuck them some paint and let them figure it out.
I give them good food, it's up to them to eat it.
They have unconditional love but they'll still get told off when it's needed.
There's many different parenting philosophy's yet people seem to neglect what is, in my opinion, the most important.
You know your children. The parenting gurus in the pages of the book don't. You known if they need a 45 minute nap in a dark room with no comfort. You also know if they don't.
Parenting isn't about looking in a book or an online forum for the answer. It's about trusting that you know what's best and that the occasional biscuit isn't going to create out of control obese children who rampage through towns destroying bakeries.
Hopefully.
Thursday, 13 October 2011
But I don't like Henry V!
The problem with history is that you either enjoy it or you don't. If you don't enjoy it then that's it really however if you do enjoy it then it can cause some major issues. Such as attempting a degree on it.
My problem is that some areas fascinate me to the point that they consume my entire being and I spent more time lost in that era than I do in the present. Some areas however have a tendency to bore me shitless.
The first unit in my degree is France, England and Burgundy in the 15th century. The day the books arrived I grabbed my lovely new stationary and dived in. Having little knowledge of the era was irrelevant in my mind. I knew little of the Russian Revolution before I studied it and now it's a strong contender for my favourite period of history (bar the Tudors of course)!
Oh how naive was I?!
I can't get into it, the information isn't sinking in and I can't find that magical hook that draws me in, leaving me desperate to find out all I can.
In short I fecking hate Henry V. I also have one page of notes that state that Henry V enjoyed jumping in muddy puddles. Which is entirely plausible however more likely a result of Peppa Pig being on as I tried to study.
I want to love this course. I need to do well at this course if I want to take over from David Starkey and Alison Weir. Or even just to teach. I just need to find that magical, possibly non existent piece of information that draws me in.
Or else fake it and hope the next unit is better!
My problem is that some areas fascinate me to the point that they consume my entire being and I spent more time lost in that era than I do in the present. Some areas however have a tendency to bore me shitless.
The first unit in my degree is France, England and Burgundy in the 15th century. The day the books arrived I grabbed my lovely new stationary and dived in. Having little knowledge of the era was irrelevant in my mind. I knew little of the Russian Revolution before I studied it and now it's a strong contender for my favourite period of history (bar the Tudors of course)!
Oh how naive was I?!
I can't get into it, the information isn't sinking in and I can't find that magical hook that draws me in, leaving me desperate to find out all I can.
In short I fecking hate Henry V. I also have one page of notes that state that Henry V enjoyed jumping in muddy puddles. Which is entirely plausible however more likely a result of Peppa Pig being on as I tried to study.
I want to love this course. I need to do well at this course if I want to take over from David Starkey and Alison Weir. Or even just to teach. I just need to find that magical, possibly non existent piece of information that draws me in.
Or else fake it and hope the next unit is better!
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
My Parenting Policy
Dear children,
It has come to my attention that you have been, at times, quite frankly taking the piss out of my good nature. So here are the new procedures, policies and general info you should know.
1. I will do my best to be a good parent, however, there will be days I make mistakes and there will (hopefully) be days that I am better than good
2. I will do my best to ensure that you grow up into well rounded, independent individuals however I will not mollycoddle you. Whilst I will keep you safe from serious harm you will sometimes have to find out for yourselves that diving of beds does indeed hurt.
3. I will give you 3 meals a day. Sometimes these will be thoughtfully prepared home cooked meals, sometimes fish fingers may play a part. I will serve some form of fruit or veg with each meal. If you eat it then that's brilliant. If you don't then I am not making a second option.
4. It is not my job to locate buzz lightyear. He is your toy and as I'm not allowed to play with him he is your responsibility.
5. Each week I will try and take you to some form of social activity even though the sight of 15 parents doing the hokey cokey is quite ridiculous.
6. I firmly believe that some days call for pj's, hot chocolate and Disney films. This is non negotiable especially if one of us is ill.
7. The naughty mat is not supposed to be fun. There's no need to keep each other company during time-outs. From now on it's solitary confinement for the entire 2 minutes.
8. Supernanny is a threat. Not a really cool flying grandmother.
9. I am in charge. You do not get to choose your own rules or boundaries. I do, it's the perk of the job I'm afraid.
10. Your sister is not a pony. She doesn't appreciate you riding around on her back (especially as she is younger than you)! Equally, your brother is not a toy. He doesn't like you shaking him to see if he talks. However hilarious it is to me watching this happen.
It has come to my attention that you have been, at times, quite frankly taking the piss out of my good nature. So here are the new procedures, policies and general info you should know.
1. I will do my best to be a good parent, however, there will be days I make mistakes and there will (hopefully) be days that I am better than good
2. I will do my best to ensure that you grow up into well rounded, independent individuals however I will not mollycoddle you. Whilst I will keep you safe from serious harm you will sometimes have to find out for yourselves that diving of beds does indeed hurt.
3. I will give you 3 meals a day. Sometimes these will be thoughtfully prepared home cooked meals, sometimes fish fingers may play a part. I will serve some form of fruit or veg with each meal. If you eat it then that's brilliant. If you don't then I am not making a second option.
4. It is not my job to locate buzz lightyear. He is your toy and as I'm not allowed to play with him he is your responsibility.
5. Each week I will try and take you to some form of social activity even though the sight of 15 parents doing the hokey cokey is quite ridiculous.
6. I firmly believe that some days call for pj's, hot chocolate and Disney films. This is non negotiable especially if one of us is ill.
7. The naughty mat is not supposed to be fun. There's no need to keep each other company during time-outs. From now on it's solitary confinement for the entire 2 minutes.
8. Supernanny is a threat. Not a really cool flying grandmother.
9. I am in charge. You do not get to choose your own rules or boundaries. I do, it's the perk of the job I'm afraid.
10. Your sister is not a pony. She doesn't appreciate you riding around on her back (especially as she is younger than you)! Equally, your brother is not a toy. He doesn't like you shaking him to see if he talks. However hilarious it is to me watching this happen.
Tuesday, 11 October 2011
The endless struggle to be good enough...
Today I had the best intentions to be the 'perfect mother'. We did water play this morning for all of 5 mins until my children got bored. We did the food shopping quite nicely until my 2 and a half year old son decided he wanted random things off shelves and then had to put them back in the exact spot he got them from.
This afternoon we have done a bit of painting- until my daughter (16months) decided to paint her face and dive onto the cream sofa.
I've shouted, I've bribed good behaviour and I've screamed into cushions a lot. I give up.
Perfect mothers with perfect children who bake cakes all day, never misbehave and have to listen to Mozart as their children dont like tv don't exist. This a fucking horrible image cultivated by advertisers to make mums (and dad's- I'm an equal opps blogger!) feel shitty and crap. I hope anyway because if you are one of these women please know that I quite like having unpredictable, 'quirky' kids and one day we will look back on these days and laugh. Or cry.
So now they are both asleep and I have a tidy yet lived in home I plan on putting my feet up with a large coffee and a pack of giant chocolate buttons and flicking through the copy of the mumsnet rules that I bought this morning.
Right up until the kids wake up and the playing, shouting, bribing cycle starts all over again.
Fuck the coffee, I think I may need wine!
This afternoon we have done a bit of painting- until my daughter (16months) decided to paint her face and dive onto the cream sofa.
I've shouted, I've bribed good behaviour and I've screamed into cushions a lot. I give up.
Perfect mothers with perfect children who bake cakes all day, never misbehave and have to listen to Mozart as their children dont like tv don't exist. This a fucking horrible image cultivated by advertisers to make mums (and dad's- I'm an equal opps blogger!) feel shitty and crap. I hope anyway because if you are one of these women please know that I quite like having unpredictable, 'quirky' kids and one day we will look back on these days and laugh. Or cry.
So now they are both asleep and I have a tidy yet lived in home I plan on putting my feet up with a large coffee and a pack of giant chocolate buttons and flicking through the copy of the mumsnet rules that I bought this morning.
Right up until the kids wake up and the playing, shouting, bribing cycle starts all over again.
Fuck the coffee, I think I may need wine!
Friday, 30 September 2011
The Tuna family saga- free Miguel!!!
The brave Miguel Tuna has spent many years bravely fighting for his country in the peaceloving resistance caterpillar regiment. Their aim has been to stop the slaughter between the marmite and maple syrup factions.
Whilst at home Miguel's poor heartbroken wife Mabel and their young son, Sydney patiently await news on the conflict. They only have one wish this Christmas and that is to have Miguel home where he belongs. If you can help please tweet #freemiguel, follow him on twitter @migueltuna or search on Facebook for the free Miguel tuna page.
Please help get this brave veteran of a vicious struggle home again.
Whilst at home Miguel's poor heartbroken wife Mabel and their young son, Sydney patiently await news on the conflict. They only have one wish this Christmas and that is to have Miguel home where he belongs. If you can help please tweet #freemiguel, follow him on twitter @migueltuna or search on Facebook for the free Miguel tuna page.
Please help get this brave veteran of a vicious struggle home again.
Wednesday, 28 September 2011
Bites, bargains and bad days
Having a really shit day to be honest. Been on anti-depressants for a while but today was the first relapse since I started taking them. All day I've just felt crap and as though I don't know what I'm doing with the kids. Then when I collected my son from nursery I was told that he'd bitten another child. Brilliant. My son is a biter once more.
However on a more positive note I popped into the charity shop and found some HappyLand fairies for my daughter for 10p each. Nice little bargain and she's getting HappyLand bits for Christmas :-)
I've decided that i'm not going to sit around feeling crap. I'm going to make a list of things that I think the kids will enjoy and make sure that every day we do a fun activity- painting, baking etc. I'm going to tackle the housework a stage at a time and get back on top of things.
My son goes on holiday tomorrow with his nan for a few days. This is what happens when you let a 2 year old pack his own suitcase (see pic)
Robots, socks and a hat!!
Today was a bad day, it doesn't mean tomorrow will be.
However on a more positive note I popped into the charity shop and found some HappyLand fairies for my daughter for 10p each. Nice little bargain and she's getting HappyLand bits for Christmas :-)
I've decided that i'm not going to sit around feeling crap. I'm going to make a list of things that I think the kids will enjoy and make sure that every day we do a fun activity- painting, baking etc. I'm going to tackle the housework a stage at a time and get back on top of things.
My son goes on holiday tomorrow with his nan for a few days. This is what happens when you let a 2 year old pack his own suitcase (see pic)
Robots, socks and a hat!!
Today was a bad day, it doesn't mean tomorrow will be.
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