Bad Parenting

Helloo everybody!

The theme of the week is bad parenting.  I've been doing a lot of it lately as a consequence of having to do more of it.  Viz.  The nanny we hired disappeared after 4 days.  No call.  No text.  Nothing.  She could have been dead.  It turns out she wasn't, but she failed to tell us that for approximately 3 weeks.

So, Harried Mum had to take over primary parenting duties.  I am a good corporate counsel.  I am a harried mother.

Let me give you a representative sample of the last 3 weeks.

1st Act:  Breakfast and drop off at nursery (Trouble) and camp (Lunatic Child).

Trouble is currently potty training.  So the conversation consists of this:

Mum:  Trouble, do you need the toilet?

Trouble:  Naaoooooo.

Mum:  Lunatic Child, eat your toast.

Mum:  Lunatic Child, stop poking Trouble.

Mum:  Trouble, don't throw that at your brother.

Mum:  Trouble, do you need the toilet?

Trouble:  Naooooo pee.

Meanwhile, I am making lunch for Lunatic Child and packing one million spare pairs of pants/socks etc. for Trouble while he's potty training and a bathing suit, water bottle, raincoat, sunscreen, jumper and hat for Lunatic Child, because who the hell knows what the British weather is going to do in the next 10 minutes.

Mum:  Trouble and Lunatic Child, eat your toast.

Lunatic Child:  What happens when you die?  What if there is a poop flood?  If a baby comes out a mum's tummy, won't there be a big hole and how do they fix it?  Why are there cars in the world?

While I am wrestling with these metaphysical chestnuts, Trouble quietly creeps under the table and pees in his shorts, necessitating a full change of clothing.

I change Trouble, and during this process, Lunatic Child becomes possessed of a fierce desire to wear Trouble's clothes.  This necessitates 10 minutes of explaining why we shouldn't wear underwear 3 sizes too small and t shirts that expose our navel.  Lunatic Child is upset and sulky and tells me that I always say no to everything and I am no fun.

I am not fun.  I am not having fun.

We all get in the car.  We drop off Trouble at nursery.  I drop off Lunatic Child at camp.

2nd Act.  Work!

All is peaceful in the house for 6 hours whilst I attempt to do my day job and interview nannies.  I interview a million nannies, as obviously I failed to do my due diligence last time.  She seemed nice? Her references checked out?  What the hell?

3rd Act.  Pick up, dinner and bath time.

At pick up, there is a satanic ice cream truck parked outside Lunatic Child's camp, leading to daily wailing over the fact that I will not always buy them ice cream.  I am a cruel, cruel mistress.

At dinner, repeat the breakfast conversation verbatim replacing toast with dinner and inserting some more random questions.  How many German shepherds are there in the world?  Where is France?  Sometimes, I manage to catch Trouble and he pees on the potty.  Everyone gets a treat.  Even Harried Mum!!

Bath time involves everyone pretending to be good doggies in order to encourage cooperation with washing hair.  (We're grooming the dogs!)

Eventually, everyone is dressed in pajamas, and we all watch some sweet, sweet TV until Fun Daddy gets home.

While I may not be doing this with élan or sang froid, we have managed to muddle through.

The new, new nanny has now started, so things should be returning to what constitutes normal in our house shortly.  At least until we move and get a puppy.

Peace out.

R

Psycho Cat

Well.  That was fantastic.

Harried Mum came home last night, went to make herself a small snack after a hard day at the office, and then noticed the cat was bleeding from her tail.

After a frantic call to the vet, Harried Mum did the following:

1.  went upstairs and dug the cat carrier out from the Very Back of the Closet.  And did this take forever, and involve hitting her head on the stupidly low roof several times as she wrestled with recalcitrant objects?  Yes.  It did.

2.  chased the cat out from under the bed with a poking stick.  Was this fun for either of us?  No.  It was not.

3.  inserted the cat in the cat carrier.  See above.

4.  corralled 2 small children, got the correct feet into the right shoes, and coats on bodies.  Kids thought it was FAB to be going out at bedtime.

5.  drove to vet.  Couldn't find anywhere to park.  Freaking London.

6.  dragged totally miserable cat in huge carrier, one toddler and one five year old for what felt like miles to vet.  See above.

7.  threatened children with no chocolate for the rest of their lives ever and then bribed them with the iPad to sit still at the vet.  They still thought the whole thing was FAB.

8.  held cat down while she shed all over me from stress to let the vet try to check her wounds.

Ultimately, we had to leave her there to be sedated so the vet could examine her properly as she wouldn't let him near her.  Poor Psycho Cat.  It transpires she had sliced her tail on something and then developed an abcess which burst - hence the bleeding.  She had surgery and is now sitting on my lap, wearing a cone of shame, which she LOATHES, and with a drain in her tail - so she's oozing all over my blanket.

Aside from being stressful and unpleasant for everyone, it also cost the largest amount of money I have ever spent on an animal.  We are eating beans and toast for dinner for the next 2 months.

Things We Did on Holiday

Well.

The Reids have taken another unintentionally comic holiday.  We just make such POOR CHOICES.

This time, it was the Lake District for a week in Spring.  Otherwise known as the Time of Sideways Rain.  Also, Snow.  Literally.  Snow.  I mean, really.  It's April!

We froze our bits off.  Fun Daddy was very serene about it, as it gave him the opportunity to spend ludicrous amounts of money on outdoor kit.  We could have survived a blizzard, when really, it was just a bit wet and cold.

Trouble, who is remarkably cheerful under any circumstances, was happy to stomp around wherever we were - car museum, indoor play space, great grandma's house, etc.  It's all the same to him.

Lunatic Child started out the week extremely unimpressed with the choice of venue.  He complained vociferously about the smell of cow pats... 'They Stink!' and was anxious that there were no shops around.  'What do we do if we need milk?'  By the end of the week, however, he was in tears that we didn't live on a farm, due to his spiritual kinship with next-door's dog.  The dog just wanted to fetch the stick.  Lunatic Child was delighted to throw the stick.  It could have gone on for years.

There was also some major excitement to be had.  It's not all Grim Up North.  We saw Royalty in the form of Prince Charles!  There he was!  In the flesh!  The kids were wildly unimpressed, but I think Fun Daddy was secretly really excited.  As an American, I had to pretend that it was all beneath me...  But I confess that if it was Kate and Wills, however, I would have been freaking out.  On the inside.

We also saw History.  Really Old Stuff!  There was a day where there was at least 2 minutes of sunshine.  We went to a Roman Army Museum and walked along Hadrian's Wall.  It was just lovely.  The Lake District is amazingly beautiful.  We also went to an active dig where they're excavating an old Roman Fort.  Lunatic Child pretended to be an archaeologist all afternoon while we looked at a series of small walls.  We found out how the Romans made the cement that's kept Hadrian's Wall stuck together all this time.  A real archaeologist told us!  Possibly, Harried Mum was more excited about this than Lunatic Chid.

Trouble said the words 'sheep!' and 'cows!' approximately eleventy-million times.  He's finally starting to talk a lot more and likes to tell us off by wagging his finger at us.

We spent some time with Fun Daddy's family - the kids got to see their great-grandparents, and it's a privilege that they still have the opportunity to meet them.  We also had a really lovely time with great aunties and uncles and cousins.  Thanks so much guys!!

We made it there and back with no major traffic issues, everyone was hale and whole upon our return and one day the kids slept until 8:30am.  So, all in all, it was a relaxing and lovely holiday, and we fared rather better than the ski holiday, but Harried Mum still feels like she is owed a beach holiday with some mai tais and a pool.

Hello my chickens and bunnies!!!

And how are we today?

Harried Mum has had an up and down week.  Professionally, Harried Mum hit a bit of a high note.  Unfortunately, this was offset by her many and varied failings as a mother.  And so it goes.

Let's start with the good news.  Harried Mum was asked to speak at a conference.  People actually wanted to hear her opinion.  On stuff!  I felt important.  And then, slightly panicked.  Particularly when the organizers asked for a headshot and bio, leading to frantic googling of 'headshots' and a quick trip to a photographer.

On the day, Harried Mum had her hair done, reasoning that even if she was terrible, perhaps people might be impressed by her glossy locks.  In the event, it all seems to have gone OK.  Maybe the hair helped.  People remarked that they could hear me very clearly.  For those who know my speaking voice, this will not come as a surprise.

On the down side.  I sent Lunatic Child to school in dirty clothes today as I hadn't done laundry during the week.  Oops.  I have been informed by the school that I have not organized enough play dates.  Harried Mum is not doing her homework!!!   Trouble has entered the hitting phase of being a sodding toddler, having moved on slightly from the throwing phase.  I can't wait for biting...

All is not lost.  Trouble is starting to talk, in earnest.  Today's word of the day is 'Mine!'  He also enjoys using words like 'Stop it!' and 'Peppa!', his one, true love...  Lunatic Child is learning to read and is doing so well,  I can't express how much joy it brings me to see him getting it.  Fun Daddy and I are reading him Roald Dahl at the moment.  And I have so many books I can't wait to share with him.  If my boys love reading, I will have at least done one thing right.  The rest they can work out in therapy...

The Holiday

Wounded, weary and carrying the scars of our battles, the Reids have returned from holiday.  

We came.  We saw.  We were conquered.

Here is a tip.  It is worth EVERY PENNY to fly to your ski holiday.  Flights at arse o' clock and fog delays notwithstanding.   We drove.  It was a bad choice.  The trip there was not too bad, although it involved a couple of days of getting up way too early for Harried Mum.  The trip back was disastrous.  One of the main roads out of Chamonix was closed.  Our friends sat in standstill traffic for 5 hours.  It took us 12 hours to do a 7 hour drive.  The next day there were problems at the Chunnel, and we sat in a line for 4 1/2 hours waiting for a train.  As I sat in the Maidstone services, scarfing McDonalds at 10:30pm, with my forlorn and unwashed children asleep in the back seat, I felt bad about the state of my life.

So, to and from was mildly stressful.  Although we did have a lovely time in Luxembourg with our friends, and we didn't trash their house too permanently one hopes.

This holiday was Lunatic Child's first experience of ski school.  He took to it just as he has the British education system, that is to say, not at all.  It did not go well.  My baby.  What are we going to do with him?  We gave up in the end.  It was only making both him and us miserable.  Instead, he had a special day out with both mum and dad where we shouted contradictory instructions at him all day..."NO!  LEFT!"  "TURN.  NOW!" and Harried Mum (accidentally!) knocked him off the button lift.  It was a good positive experience after ski school, and he had a grand time.  He has no fear, which is a worry. He just points the skis down the hill and hopes for the best.  

Trouble had a nice nanny who took him sledding. He was suspicious about this and was never quite sure whether he loved it or hated it.  He had a great time with all the other children and is probably the least traumatized member of the family at the moment.

Harried Mum and Fun Daddy did have a few lovely days of skiing. The skies were blue.  The weather was warm.  The snow was a bit meh, but we had a fabulous time just messing about with our friends. The food was good.  We ate and drank way too much on the pretext that we'd been exercising all day.  Harried Mum has probably gained about 3 kgs.

The second to last day was rather icy and Harried Mum wasn't feeling it.  I slipped and had a really nasty fall.  It hurt really badly, and I was pretty shaken up.  It felt like I had a massive charlie horse on my hip and my whole leg was cramping up.  And, I am telling you, this is a true story.  No word of a lie.  I got up from lunch a few hours later, and the pain was so bad that I passed out on the floor of the restaurant.  I woke up flat on my back thinking, 'WTF?'  Fun Daddy was not particularly chivalrous and basically looked completely horrified that Harried Mum would do something so stupid as pass out because she'd  bruised her arse.  But I did.

So I spent the eleventy million hours in the car the past 2 days only able to sit on one bum cheek.  The bruise covers my entire arse, so it is, as you might imagine, absolutely massive.  Fun Daddy had to drive the entire time, and I am eternally grateful.

We are now home.  Everyone has the lurgy.   Everything hurts.  But Psycho Cat is really happy to see us.

We will be re-thinking the logistics of the ski holiday next year.

So....are you thinking of having children?

Excuse Harried Mum's long silence.  We've been busy!

Anyway, I felt compelled to post, as a lovely friend appears to be contemplating children.  Whilst she is doing that, I thought I would share some vignettes that she might find illuminating.

- Lunatic Child drew an enormous 3-eyed alien on the hall stairs.  In sharpie pen.  Because 'paper is boring'.  Of course it is.  Prior to confessing the crime, he tried to blame Trouble.

- Lunatic Child refused to practice his lines in the school Christmas play.  Instead, he used only the words 'fart', 'bum' and 'poop'.  As in...'The farts told the poopyheads that the bum was born at last.'  The teachers literally had steam coming out of their ears.  The times.  They were bad.  Harried Mum had to sit on a small children's chair in the classroom at a crisis parent/teacher meeting and receive a stern talking to for being a deficient working mother.  I note that on the day, however, he rose to the occasion and 'The angels told the shepherds that the saviour was born at last.'  A teacher was hovering about one inch away from him at all times.

- Trouble knocked over the TV and broke the screen in what I can only assume was an attempt to change the channel to Peppa Pig.  We are now on TV number 3 since moving to the UK.  The one we brought from the US didn't work.  Number 2 is a casualty.  We're hoping the 3rd time is the charm.

- Our sofa is basically a hazardous waste zone.  At any time, you can expect to find: a desiccated apple core, peanut butter, cracker crumbs, jam, snot, chocolate and/or sticky puddles of dried juice.  Perhaps we should clean more often, you say in a superior tone...Yes, well.  You can just bugger off, Judgy McJudgy-Pants.

- The cat has Stockholm Syndrome.  She cannot stay away from the children, even though she is constantly subjected to all that you might imagine a 5 and 2 year old boy would do to a cat.

- On the other hand, there is nothing better than when Trouble throws his arms around you, gives you a huge hug and a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, looks at you with his big hazel eyes, and....smacks you across the face as hard as he can.

- Or, when Lunatic Child crawls into bed with you in the middle of the night because he's had a bad dream...and then you spend the rest of the night trying to sleep while he starfishes in the middle of the bed, you get prodded by his bony arse and elbows and receive a face full of skunky 5 year old breath.

I love them so fiercely.  They make me so crazy.  We are always tired.  They are our joy.  They drive us to tears.  It's not for everyone, and I can really understand that.  But, for us, we don't miss (too often...or at least, not every day) life without them.  Besides, if I didn't have kids, I'd have nothing to blog about but my boring lawyer job and Fun Daddy's annoying habits, and who would want to read about that?