Category Archives: Parenting

Three things it is best to avoid: a strange dog, a flood, and a man who thinks he is wise.

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It is always best to tackle a daunting task first thing in the morning. That way, by the time you are actually conscious you will already be halfway through whatever drudgery you have set for yourself. My task this morning was to launder all my bed linen; duvet included.

Having stuffed my king sized duvet in the Fisher & Paykel ‘Gentle Annie’ ( washing machine of 80’s and 90’s childhoods everywhere), even though I know full well that they are wholly incompatible, (Do you ever get that? The idea that your sheer willpower alone will be enough to overcome technical difficulties?) I then set about preparing myself a lavish breakfast, the details of which I will spare you (it involved tofu) and setting down to eat it while the children roared about the house enacting scenes from their various favoured television shows.

It was at this time wherein, Dora the Explorer played by Mabel Tinksybell Ice-Cream (the actress’s preferred title at present) first alerted me to the situation.

Dora/Mabel: ‘Mama! There is a river!’

And, because I am a great believer in imaginative play, and always ready to assume a supporting role, went right along.

Plucky side-kick/Alice: ‘Oh no, Dora! A river! What are we going to do?’

Dora/Mabel: ‘Mama! The river is coming to get me! Mama! The river is in the kitchen!’

She was even standing on a chair at this point, clasping her little hands together. Adorable, I thought. Such commitment to the part.

Enter Buzz Lightyear/Theo.

Buzz Lightyear/Theo: ‘Mama. There is a flood. The washing machine is broken. I will call Pappous to fix it.’

Plucky side-kick/Alice: ‘Oh, bloody hell!’

You know how there are different kinds of ‘Today I flooded the wash-house’? Well today? I bloody flooded the bloody wash-house. Gentle Annie:1. Plucky side-kick/Alice:0.

Buzz Lightyear/Theo: ‘Mama? Is this a good flood? Or a bad flood?’

They will really ask you things like this, usually in moments you are trying to hold back a deluge with a tea-towel.

Sodden side-kick/Alice: ‘Uh…it’s just a flood, Bubba.’

Buzz Lightyear/Theo: ‘Yes. But….’

When I had finally restored some semblance of order and went to return to my breakfast, the cats had licked it all over. So I gave it to the dog. Who rejected it.

Life is made up of moments like this.

But then, when I came to my bedroom to write this, quickly and quietly before I had to return to the 57th rousing rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star that is currently taking place on the front step, I found that the children had made my bed with their own duvets. And it was the best thing that’s ever happened.

Life is made up of moments like this, too.

Three Hundred & Sixty Five / Days at Home: Twenty-Two.

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Mabel: ‘Mama! I am taking a photo of you!’

Alice: ‘Oh, but darling! I am in the shower!’

Theo: ‘I am going to take a photo of you too, Mama!’

Alice: ‘Oh, darlings, uh, yes – that’s very nice! But perhaps you could take photos of me when I am out of the shower? You know?’

Theo: ‘I am just getting my camera!’

Mabel: ‘I am taking more photos of you, Mama!’

Alice: ‘Yes, I see that, darling. Careful! You’re getting all we…’

Mabel: ‘MAAAAAAAMMMMMMAAAAAAAAA! MY DORA T-SHIRT IS WET!’

Alice: ‘Oh, sweetheart, well, uh, just give me a minute to get the shampoo out of my eyes, hmm?’

Theo returns.

Theo: ‘Mama I am taking a photo of your bum! AH HA HA’

Mabel: ‘I am taking a photo of your bum too!’

Alice: ‘I am so lucky’.

 

No photo today, dears. I’m sure you can’t imagine why.

 

 

 

Let That Be A Lesson To You – The Story of a Saturday Morning.

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A morning with the house to myself. I sleep in and make a lavish breakfast that no one asks me for a bite of. I roam the internet with abandon, even though there was a beautiful day at the door. I do all the things that seem like indulgences to those with children, and like a regular Saturday to those who don’t. You lousy ingrates.

I hear the hound; whimpering and wailing and tearing around the property. ‘Cat’, I think. But his behaviour persists long after any cat would stand for this nonsense. Then I hear it; not one, but two sets of scrabbleclaws raging around in my kitchen.  I storm through the house with those footsteps you use when Someone Is In Trouble.

And there she is; Otto’s Girlfriend. A Pitt-Dober-Weiler with a belly of saggedy nipples.  As I approach her she takes off, hauling her heft over my 6 foot fence. She’s had a lot of practice at this, you can tell. Otto is naturally forlorn at the hand love has dealt him – she was delivered to him, his dream girl of questionable morals, only for her to be taken from him as quickly as she arrived. He has not spoken to me since.

I tell him that no nice girl has even had to haul ass over a fence to escape a boys mother. And then remember, I have been that girl.

Which has produced the pervading thought: NEED TALLER FENCE.

Surprise! It’s Death!

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Theo: ‘The snake is dead, Mama. He was our friend.’

If you have ever wondered what happens when you leave a worm on a piece of tissue, under the lid of a roasting dish, in the midday sun, let me tell tell you now that I think your energies could be put to better use on experiments that do not conclude in a lavish burial ceremony.

(It was like, crisp, you know?)

Don’t Mess With The Best Dressed.

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Alice: ‘C’mon, Mae. Time to get dressed.’

Mabel: ‘No! I am a nudie!’

She says with just as much flourish as you are imagining.

She holds up a range of dresses; each briefly modeled before being flung to the floor.

She selects two socks; both of pink stripes, but unmatched.

‘Mae-Mae wear deez socks!’, she informs me.

I dump her on her bed of pink flowers.

Alice: ‘Alright then; let’s get these socks on’.

I’m hopeful.

Mabel: ‘No! I want to wear them on my eyes!’

So she does.