YOU’RE WHAT?!!!

When I had two children under two, and people dared ask me how I was. ( A dangerous question to ask any parent at the best of times.) To save the enquirer from a badly scripted episode of Eastenders meets Show me Show me (your leaky boobs and sore bits) I replied with “Tired!” one word, that is all. To which they would  reply  “Oh! You’re always tired!” and waltz off with sparks of wide awakeness turbo power shooting off their trainers.

At the time I was too blinking zonked to muster a reaction, four and a half years later I am still tired but I think familiarity numbs the pain so it kind of moulds into your grey face and you wear it like pants, necessary but not always comfortable.

 WHAT TIRED MEANS

You catch sight of Ronald Macdonald on smack in the rear view mirror and remember you haven’t washed off the make over you were given by the nearly 2 year old and the dogs three days earlier.

Instead of people cooing into the pram they are giving you sympathetic looks, not because they feel your sleepless pain but because you have a pair of George Pig pants on your head.

If you do manage to shower, you will probably do so at least 3 times in the space of seven minutes as you can’t actually remember if you did or not.

Trying to breastfeed the non breastfeeding toddler and wondering why the new born is refusing Thomas the Tank Engine spaghetti shapes.

Making plans to meet somebody for coffee , getting ready early, putting your coat on, sitting down to feed the newborn and put the toddler’s shoes on. You taste the fresh hot coffee , you savour the hilarious adult conversations then you wake up to 27 missed calls , a jumping Yo Gabba Gabba DVD and the local cavalry hammering at the door.

Taking it personally  that not everybody likes mushed carrots and Weetabix for dinner.

Putting big boy pants on the 3 month old and a nappy on the potty trained one and not realising until in the middle of a very hot and busy IKEA.

Even if your dress is on back to front and inside out. You need to be given praise! Flowers, knighthoods, trophies. You made it out of the house, Woop! You rock!

Worrying you are entering new levels of eyesight problems, before remembering you are showering with your glasses on.

Bursting into tears when a child falls over or sings, especially if it isn’t yours.

Being annoyed by everybody and anything. Especially the person who is 50 per cent responsible for the state you’re in.

When somebody says “Rest when they are sleeping” you are enjoying the image of doing your most ninja powered moves directly where it hurts and then you realise you might actually have carried them out and are too knackered to run.

Forgetting you drove to the supermarket and wondering why you forgot the sling and pram whilst carrying two wriggly, hungry, screaming children home, which is a long way away.

Taking a photo of the two cars parked either side of yours and sending an SOS whatsapp to anybody in the vicinity to please come and get your car out of the squeeze.

Listening to veterans of parenthood, who promise that it really is all worth it and realising that they are possibly most definitely right.

Do it your selfie

I don’t really do selfies. Not as a rule but in general I try to avoid seeing what I look like of a day as to not feel guilty about the sight I am inflicting upon others. (Think Wurzel Gummage crossed with an overly tired moomin). Although it might be handy if I did do selfies more regularly to avoid going out with Mr Tumble stickers stuck to my forehead and also to realise that my dress was on back to front ALL DAY LONG.

However, the other night whilst perusing my phone it came to my attention that one of us, namely Boy 2 is quite the selfie pro. So here are a few pointers to get the perfect one;

1. Steal a phone.

2. Try the easiest combination of numbers ever like 1234 to crack the password and you’re in. (If the phone’s owner is on the clever side then try it backwards.)

3. The most important thing to take into account is that your fringe is perfectly aligned. This will give body to your photos, ignore the centre box on the screen. Follow your fringe. Always.

4. Create an air of mystery. No need to properly open your eyes or change your facial expression.

5. If you do move away from the safety of your fringe, then don’t forget to focus on your nose, it adds a certain “je ne sais quoi” aspect to your shots.

6. Repeat and repeat at least a zillion times, until you find the perfect one which is no mean feat!

UNCONDITIONALLY CONDITIONED

There is a simple reason why the love you have for your children is unconditional; If a friend, relation, acquaintance or complete and utter stranger did half the things your child does (and gets away with), you would either unfriend (is that even a real word?), report or bust out some serious kung-fu moves on them.

A few examples;

When riding on your shoulders, gleefully announcing “ I’m not going to fall because I’m holding on to your chins…”

Projectile vomiting in your mouth, pooing in your shoes and weeing in your eye.

Trashing your whole entire house, leaving a trail of unidentifiable substances and breaking the door handle with a hearty laugh and then refusing to tidy up, accept responsibility or pass you the gin.

Delving into your top and only being satisfied when both boobs are properly out, with nothing to do and nowhere to go and then walking away pointing and chanting “Boobs, Boobs, Boobs !”.

Rolling around on the floor screaming that the noodles should have been on the left of the plate, not the right and demanding something else.

Waking you up at 2.36am with an urgent order of water, warm milk, cold milk, water again and a ham sandwich cut into squares NOT circles.

Proclaiming loudly that you are not in fact their mum, but their horrible wicked stepmother who gives them poisonous apples for breakfast.

Snuggling up to you on the sofa and wiping their snot away on your face.

Suggesting that instead of going away for one night, you go away forever and ask a doctor for a new boy.

Asking you why you`re still wearing  pyjamas, when you thought you looked quite hip in your new starry jumpsuit.

WHO DUNNIT?

Last week at a party ( for the under fives),  my “friend” did a silent but incredibly violent trump. Cue, parents flocking from the darkest corners of bunting clad trees to check their offspring´s bottoms, nappies, pockets,. “Strewth!” exclaimed one dad ( or words to that effect) “That was nuclear!” coughed another. My”friend” , feeling quite proud of her skills decided to keep mum (literally).

This led me my friend to conjure up a list of the top five situations where it’s morally acceptable to blame it on the kids.

1.  Nails; When you are incapable of painting your nails without it resembling an effort from a chimpanzee using its bottom to hold the brush.

The boys did it? How cute!

 

2. When your house resembles this multiplied by 7;

 

Easier to say that the kids were nutters and you literally haven’t had a moment to breathe, let alone wash up. Nobody needs to know that the boys were brilliant and you spent the afternoon watching Bananaman, whilst sipping cooking wine from a mug.

 

3.  Cakes; When you have to take a cake somewhere and this happens.

 

In this case, you don’t need to use your faithful scapegoats as it will just be automatically presumed that your recently out of the womb child made it.

 

4. The state of you ;  

When the children are small, it’s socially acceptable to go out covered in unidentifiable substances and look like you have just landed from another planet without a parachute. It’s also ok to have no concept of what you are wearing. The important thing is that you’re dressed and out . Well done you! Don’t have a raincoat or umbrella? No problem, a bin bag will do.

 

 

Although easier to point the finger at the boys for lack of time etc… It gets a bit dubious when they look like they have just  stepped out of a catalogue and are constantly asking why you’re wearing dressing up clothes.

** There is a small possibility that I was on my own in above photo, and the boys were in fact fast asleep in another part of the country…

 

5. When you cut your child’s fringe; 

 

To avoid being reported to the National Society for  the prevention of Hair Crimes. Much easier to say that they mistook their hair for a piece of paper.

* For some reason unbeknown to me and the rest of the human race, Boy 1 thinks this is the best fringe ever. (I think having my fringe as a point of reference has helped…)

 

       

LOST IN SPACE

It would seem that the following concepts are completely alien to Boy 1 and Boy 2;

1. NOW; Used to depict a sense of urgency, i.e; “We have to leave NOW, we’re already super late” or “Stop playing NOW and help tidy up.”

On their planet, NOW is interpreted as a time at least 47 minutes later, sometimes even 47 hours or days. There`s no need to rush, ever.

2. PERSONAL SPACE; Used to describe a healthy distance between two people, especially when a cup of coffee is needed or you are on the loo, doing what you do.

On their planet this means it’s the perfect occasion to clamber, kiss, style hair using toothpaste, demand a story, ask to see what’s in the loo and why…

3. BOY 2 HAS WON; Used to explain to Boy 1 that Boy 2 has scored the most goals, got the most cards, trumped the loudest or run the fastest.

On BOY 1`s planet (this is where there’s a bit of friction between planets), the fact that he landed on planet Earth, 19 months and 27 days before BOY 2, means that he is ALWAYS the winner. Always. Even if he isn’t playing.

4. “AIM IN THE LOO!” means “Please try not to wee on the seat, next to the seat, on the floor, all over the bath, in the sink and on the ceiling.”

On their planet this means “Please, please, please be angels and wee on the seat, next to the seat, on the floor, all over the bath, in the sink and on the ceiling.

5. HANG ON A SECOND, I’M TALKING ; Used to describe a situation where you can’t (lo and behold) give your full attention right away because you are (double lo and behold) engaged in a conversation with somebody else. (If you’re incredibly lucky, that somebody else may be over the age of 5. Imagine!)

On their planet this means ” I can’t talk to you until you whip my leggings and pants down in public, because I love it when everybody gets a glimpse of what lies beneath”

6. IT’S EXACTLY THE SAME!; Used to demonstrate that there is absolutely NO difference between the toy/biscuit/lump of mud they each have in their hands.

On their planet they hear “His is much better than yours, please pummel each other to the ground until you are satisfied with the one you have”

7. “SHHHHH, IT’S A SECRET/SURPRISE”; Generally used to mean keep it to yourself. I.e; don’t tell everybody.

On their planet this means “Tell everybody and make doubly sure you don’t leave anybody out.”

8. NOT NOW; Used to answer questions such as “Please can I eat these 6 jumbo sized chocolate bars I stole from the fridge?” or “Please can we belly flop fully dressed into the paddling pool?”

On their planet it means “Yes of course, there would be no better time than right this very moment.”

 

THEY SAY…

As well as the Frozen soundtrack , I spend a lot of time hearing They say ….and I often wonder who THEY are, where THEY are and why THEY think THEY have the authority on everything

 I was hoping to spare you the agony of my poetic attempts, unfortunately I have failed and have scribed a bit of a ranty ditty about THEY, whoever THEY are.

They live in tall towers, smelling of flowers, whilst sipping the best champagne,

Shaking their heads whilst tutting, “She did it again”

They tut if you do, tut if you don’t,

Moan that you will and groan that you won’t

They won’t let you know if you’re doing it right,

But will wake you up with a fear of failing, during the night

They tell you to do it this way, but don’t delay a day

Because their theories change as they please,

Whilst guffawing at you on your knees.

They see you through their giant binoculars, serving fish fingers again

Whilst they have organic, fresher than fresh meals delivered  by electric train

They put their hands over their eyes as you drop a bookcase on your foot

Whilst soothing a baby in a sling and desperately trying to find the toddler’s favourite book.

They don’t know why you don’t get a grip and wear nice clothes

Whilst they strut about in pristine robes

They don’t know what the fuss is about

It’s child play, although it must be wooden and raved about in the latest magazines

They wonder where you read that puke and snot was better than a healthy, make up sheen

They release new techniques, which you think you have mastered

Just as they put their hands on their perfect hips

And say there were glips,

So please swot up on the latest trend,

Before you blink and it’s reached its end.

After spending three hours following their latest getting the baby to sleep rules before you unwind

You collapse on the sofa, which has taken an hour to find

And breathing a sigh of relief , throw a stray nappy in the bin

Which misses and  unwittingly covers the spy camera

They left there to check you are on track, day out and in

You smile, pop a straw in the bottle of wine and enjoy leftovers of many a processed meal gone by,

Blissfully unaware of  THEY,  hopping mad in their headquarters ,

Somewhere up in the sky.

TOPPLE LIKE A TODDLER

I never thought I would utter these words, but Madonna and me have something in common. We both had a topple in public. Granted, Madonna’s crowd was about a zillion deep and all eyes were on her, my crowd comprised of hundreds of freezing parents clapping at their offspring´s graduation. Also, mine was in a cathedral , not a swanky venue and I don’t think anybody noticed mine, not even my Mum who had been kindly seated behind a pillar.

I had been terrified about falling off the rickety stage , but I needn’t have worried about that as what actually happened was that in my relief at receiving my scroll (is that what it’s even called?) and not crashing to the ground , I leant forward , tripped over my feet and watched in stilted slow motion horror as my cap flew off my head and kept going as if it had accidentally lost its way from Hogwarts.

Cue, me stretching out like a drunk octopus and somehow managing with a bit of a mix between a run and a star jump catching it before it fell with a thud. I was ever so slightly mortified. My “friends” were highly amused and still are to this day.

Madonna, however, handled it with grace and managed to carry on unscathed. If that had been a toddler who had toppled down the stairs, they would have;

a: thrown the world`s largest most vocal tantrum, pointing fingers at everybody and screeching until everything , everywhere came to a standstill.

b: laughed uncontrollably and pulled everybody else down too.

c: hopped back on stage and done it over and over and over again.

d: probably found something to eat whilst on the ground and discovered a secret tunnel.

e: managed to locate you in the crowd and blame you for letting them wear the cape. After all, it is always your fault, remember?

 

HOW CLEAN IS YOUR HOUSE?

The boys are drinking their bedtime milk from champagne flutes. I’m not Hyacinth Bouquet and the champagne flutes are in fact plastic and for the record, I don’t actually know how they got to be in our house. But our dishwasher has not read its job description and has broken down for the umpteenth time this week, leaving a kitchen which resembles the leaning tower of Pisa with a conservatory built on the back.

Yes, I know I could wash up and I have, but it`s the pile that keeps giving and I am now tempted to test the hair washing theory, the one where you don’t wash your hair for months and then it self cleans and you are left with the glossiest of manes, hopefully it applies to plates boasting congealed remnants of lunches gone-by.

In my most fantastical of dreams, my house resembles one on Wisteria Lane, (possibly Bree’s) pristine and smelling of freshly baked goods and exotic flowers, unfortunately real life is the stuff of nightmares and is much more hysteria than wisteria and smells of burnt and wee thanks to two boys who find it hilarious to aim for the sky rather than the bowl . But for some excruciatingly dull reason, I am always stressing about it. Always. I feel like I am constantly cleaning and tidying up a la ground hog day, but to no avail. I know two small children doesn’t help the mix, but I think it´s me, I think I’m just not very good at the whole cleaning malarkey. When my house is spotless and shiny (in my eyes) it probably looks like a before shot on How clean is your house?

Thankfully, my children don’t share this worry and if it was up to them, this is how they would maintain that “we live in the movies” look.

Spilt drink on the floor
Grab nearest item off clothes horse (big socks work really well) and rub half-heartedly until it’s slippy, but you can’t see it. If you are pernickety and want to dry it, then use a skirt or dress, usually found on radiator. It gives it a nice glean and a magazine finish.

Clothes
No need to worry about mountains of clothes to be washed, just turn top/ trousers around and then inside out – magic. You instantly have 4 wears out of said garment, and nobody will notice it’s the same as each new stain and mark will add a certain “where did he get that?” envy to it.

Food
Don’t bother picking up food that’s fallen off your plate, it’s always good to have snacks to hand 24/7, there is nothing tastier than a 3 (week) day old fishfinger or bean.

Lego
Lego must be left strewn on the floor at all times, no matter where it is. At all times.

Toys
Collect as many as you possibly can, hoard them. It’s all about plastic, the brighter and noisier, the better. Never throw or give anything away, you can never have too many broken kinder surprise toys. If there are complaints, just brush them under the sofa; nobody ever looks there anyway.

Just last week, we were at the doctors looking at a very glossy magazine, with pictures of houses I think I should probably live in, and O pointed at an exquisitely gorgeous pristine house with an exquisitely clean family standing in front of it. “Why are they so grumpy?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Is it because they haven’t got a sandpit?” he said scouring the photos, shaking some sand out of his hair.
Evidently, sparkling cleanliness = grumpiness and misery. In that case, I say bring on the dirt and the huge grubby faced smiles. Always.

This is obviously a stock photo and NOT a photo of the pile of clothes I have to fold and put away…

SEVEN THINGS I ALWAYS FORGET TO REMEMBER……

1. When your (any) child says “I don’t want any more of this lasagna/ biscuit/ squashed banana” Do not under any circumstances finish it off. Leave it out on the side for at least three and a half days, as the second it hits your belly or the dark depths of the bin, there will be a loud wail and a monumental tantrum as you fail to produce said biscuit or congealed banana.

2. Nosebleeds; I am actually considering getting a tattoo of the correct procedure. Every time there is a nosebleed (where does ALL that blood come from?!), I go blank, trying to remember if it’s head up or down, blow or squeeze, flip child upside down or sideways or take a photo for a future blog post.

3. Nappies; Never ever check whether your child has done a poo or a wee by putting your finger in their nappy. Believe me.

4. Don´t ever talk about how well your child gets on with other children to anybody, don’t even accommodate the thought. The moment this smugness leaves your mouth, your child will be pummeling all the other ones to the ground, followed by a star jump on their bellies for good measure.

5. In the same vein, never say out loud “No, they haven’t wet the bed for ages” (Cue; a night of changing sheets and beds and you all end up sleeping in the kitchen) or “No, they haven’t been ill this term”; Congratulations! You have just invited the plague to visit your house.

6. Don’t entrust your child with a secret of any size, unless you live on a desert island only populated by banana trees or want all and sundry and their dog´s dog to know it.

7. There is absolutely NO point in cleaning your house, ever. Not even the most hidden corner of it, not until your children are at least 37 years old.

 

Literally….

The boys are tri-lingual, I speak to them in English, S in Catalan and at school the majority of their classmates are Spanish speaking. Sometimes they get muddled and come out with literal translations like I’m really hungry to see my friend or I have no poo, when asked if they need the loo. This gave me a flashback to a boy I sat opposite on a train once, who had obviously just learnt the word literally. It was brilliant. His conversations went pretty much like this “ Literally, here’s a cheese crisp” “Today is literally Friday.”

I am pretty sure all children take idioms literally but I’m not sure that all children react in quite the overly dramatic way mine do ….

SIX THINGS MY CHILDREN TAKE LITERALLY / JUST DON`T GET

1. “We need to get our skates on, we´re late for school”

Response: “NOOOOO! My teacher said no skating at school, No skates, she`ll take them off me and I’ll get cold feet.”

2. Rhyming sentences such as “Let’s go Jo!” or “Don’t worry Murray!”

Response: A whole day of saying ” I’m not Jo or Murray, Why are you calling me that? Who’s Jo? Why don’t you know my name?”

3. “It’s raining cats and dogs”

Response: “ What?! Quick hide, they will squash our house!” “I don’t like dogs, where are they?” (said a bit tearfully)

4. “Stop pulling your willy, it will fall off!”

Response: Cunnning smile spreads across face as he saunters off to convince little brother to pull his willy.

5. “Have you got ants in your pants?”

Response: Half naked children in supermarket queue.

6. “I`m your Mum and you´re my son”

Response: Silence as bottom lip starts to quiver, “I want to be the moon, not the suuuuun.”