Tag Archives: guilt

Confessions of a spanking good half term

27 Feb

Chips photo

As I get more and more school holidays under my belt, I feel less of a need to justify why we didn’t conquer Mount Everest or deliver newborn lambs in half term week. Bloggers write an awful lot about their guilt in order to seek reassurance from their peers and be a Better Parent. Mostly it’s self-flagellation. It’s not about the well-being of the kids: it’s about measuring yourself on the yardstick of perfection that is waved in our faces by the internet and social media. It’s time to grab that yardstick and snap it in half.

Let me tell you this: what you’re about to read wasn’t written to make myself feel better. It was written to make you feel better – to let you know that it’s okay. Really, it’s alright if you didn’t take a photo of your kids frolicking in snowdrops and apply Instagram’s Vintage filter with a smidgeon of a vignette. (Vintage because that makes life look retro and kids were so much happier in the olden days when they could race across open fields and only return home for tea, etc, etc, blah blah blah.)

It’s time to stop using other people’s Facebook timelines as a must-do-or-I’ve-failed guide to activities to cram into the school holidays. Your children will not be disadvantaged in their future life if you choose iPad time over roller skating the Inca Trail. Another episode of Paw Patrol will not cast them onto the educational scrapheap. (Many apps are highly educational and played alongside Candy Crush and Panda Pop will balance your child out as comfortably mediocre.)

Here’s a fancy infographic for you. It’s the first time I’ve done one and I can reassure you that no children were harmed in the time it took me to do it. They were not knocking over pans of boiling water or sticking their fingers in plug sockets as they revelled unsupervised.

half-term-infographic-copy

There you have it. I’ve done my little bit to make parents feel moderately better. (And that’s only half term – just think of what you won’t achieve in the summer holidays!) If I were to now fall off the sofa and die, the old Cheerio in the rug that I inhale with my last breath would be utterly worth it.

Holiday kids’ clubs: 10 things a novice parent should know

30 Apr

Belek sea

When on holiday, the first rule of kids’ club is: you must feel guilty while your children are there. The second rule of kids’ club is: YOU MUST feel guilty while your children are there! It is a complex position for a parent to be in. On one hand you are desperate for some adult time and on the other you’re conscious that you’re on holiday to spend time with your family. If you’re a relative newcomer to the ‘Putting the Kids in Kids’ Club Club’ then what should you be aware of? Can it be a pain and guilt-free experience?

1. Location

You have the whole resort to explore. You can walk at a grown-up pace and not have to stop a dozen times to remove stones from sandals. You can even hold hands with your partner without them asking you to do ‘One, Two, Three … Swing!’. Your horizons have expanded. However, you will carefully measure out on a map what is a 5-minute walk from the kids’ club and draw a circle with a compass. That is the area you will stick to. Just in case.

2. Go incognito

You have found the perfect spot to relax for a couple of hours. Beware – do not let your guard down. Often kids’ clubs will leave their premises and head out into the resort for activities. You must take care – particularly if you have clingy offspring – not to be spotted by your child. This is particularly annoying if the group leader takes them to the beach bar for a drink (soft) and that bar turns out to be the one closest to your location. No matter how parched you are, resist the urge to approach the bar. Whatever you do, don’t wave at your child or acknowledge them in any way. Stay out of sight. They have temporarily forgotten you – this should not be messed with if you wish to remain child-free.

3. Making the most of ‘adult time’

This does not mean a trip back to your hotel room. Your nether regions may say ‘yes’ but the only urge your brain has is to try to do everything at the resort that you cannot do with kids. These are activities based outside of the bedroom and generally involve making the most of the sunshine and fresh air with your disappointed partner in tow. However …

4. … whilst you want to do everything child-free under the sun, you will just end up on a sun bed reading a book. Of course, you will be relaxing fully clothed just in case you are called for an emergency.

5. Communications

Put your mobile phone on the loudest ring volume possible. And the most powerful vibrate. And sellotape it to the side of your head. Do not attempt entering the pool as water damage to your phone will sever any link you have to your children.

6. Trust that your children will ask to go to the toilet if they need to

No matter how much you believe it and evidence at home suggests so, they don’t actually need you to remind them to pee or require you to wipe their bum.

7. Collection time

You have some time to yourself. Remember though that it isn’t really ‘some’ time – it is 2 hours to be precise. In the first hour you enjoy a couple of cocktails, read a couple of chapters, start the countdown … Only one hour until you have to pick the kids up. Only half an hour. Only 15 minutes. Oh sod it, go now. It doesn’t matter if you’re a bit early; after all you’re desperate to see them.

8. They will have more fun at kids’ club than they do with you

When asked to choose between a stranger who will help them with a craft activity without shouting or simultaneously checking Facebook and, well, YOU, they will choose the former every time. Your kids don’t need you as much as you think.

9. You will secretly enjoy it and pray they ask to go back

Whilst the sun beats down on your guilt-wracked body, you will admit to yourself – gradually at first – that you are actually having fun. An hour ago your biggest worry was whether your children will ever forgive you for abandoning them, now it’s that they won’t want to go back to kids’ club tomorrow.

And the final rule of kids’ club …

10. Your future holidays

You can’t understand why parents take their children on holiday then choose not to spend time with them. Kids’ club, scmids’ club – who cares, you’re there to spend some quality time with your family. But now you’ve actually experienced it, that’s the old you. The new you will quickly emerge when booking your next holiday as you check the box that filters your search for ‘hotels with a kids’ club’. Anything else is completely unacceptable.

 

2015: the year of channeling Elsa

2 Jan

Frozen

I like to have a New Year’s theme rather than resolutions. 2015 will be no different. But where to find a theme? It’s not until you have small children and are denied exposure to deep philosophical musings that you are by necessity forced to find meaning in Disney. Only when you reach this state can you consider adopting a song from Frozen as a mantra. And so it is that 2015 is the year of letting it go.

Thankfully, my daughter didn’t succumb to the Frozen obsession so I don’t tear my hair when Elsa lets rip on the mountainside. In fact, it still brings a tear to my eye as a good power ballad should. If I’m going down the song route for a theme, I could have adopted Ms Swift’s decision to ‘Shake It Off’ but quite frankly that’s something you do with dandruff or a nasty cold.

When 2015 makes me feel a bit arsey, I’m going to make the conscious decision to ‘let it go’. Or – as Gwynnie and Chris might put it – I’m going to consciously uncouple with anything that makes my hackles rise. This isn’t just about other people (and I’m thinking specifically of you here Man in Seat 11B). It’s about letting go of the self-inflicted time-wasting, procrastination and naval gazing that often sees me reach the end of a day having achieved very little at all. That can be a kingdom of isolation and it looks like I’m the queen. (Ahem.)

What else will I be focusing on?

LET IT GO: Checking Rightmove. An affliction of St Albans residents who are prone to an eternal preoccupation with house prices (when not worrying about school catchment areas). Rightmove searches simply confirm that (a) you don’t get much for your money here, and (b) that the truly rich really do have very little taste.

LET IT GO: Parental guilt. The Big One, often felt to be insurmountable. Letting go of this should not be confused with a lack of interest in your children or with allowing them to eat cheese strings and wear pyjamas to school every day. Letting go of parental guilt means not turning in/on yourself when your child doesn’t have anything planned for after school on a Wednesday and you don’t use that time to stuff their reading diary with Dostoevsky.

LET IT GO: Online groups for mums. Obviously I’m not referring to my hometown for our group is an unparalleled example of harmony and commonsense. If I were witness to any ugly online behaviour (which again I must stress I am not) from women with too much time on their hands, I would certainly be trying to let go of the overwhelming urge to bang their heads together.

There are some things that I will not be letting go of in 2015. First, my pelvic floor muscles. I’m still working on those (thanks kids) but fortunately I’m not in Elsa’s position of not being able to hold it back anymore. Secondly, myself. This New Year theme shouldn’t be confused with actually letting myself go (which is something I’ve pretty much done already and is thus no challenge).

On that note – as, with a mouthful of chocolate orange, you pour the residual Christmas booze down the sink before heading off down the gym – I wish you all a very Happy New Year and a calmer, less buttock-clenching 2015.

 

 

Wanted: a guilt-free school summer holiday

1 Aug

School holidays

As we find ourselves heading into the fleshy part of the school summer holidays, that dreaded feeling has already set in. No, it’s not cabin fever nor is it a yearning for the days when a summer holiday was exactly that – a holiday and a child-free one to boot. What is it then? It’s the feeling of guilt that you should be out of the house doing something with your kids.

Despite having just returned from Disneyland Paris, our first plan-free day has put me in a tailspin. We’ve worn ourselves out chasing Mickey and what we really need is a day at home with our feet up and perhaps – dare I say it? – the telly on. But unforgiving Facebook and punishing Twitter have warned me that other people are out showing their kids a good time. Eek. I’ve just sat my two down on the sofa under a duvet with their breakfast and Disney Jr. I’ve put a load of washing on and run a deep clean on the dishwasher. But, do you know what? We’re all content and satisfied (apart from the 3-year-old complaining about two Doc McStuffins in a row).

My kids aren’t the going out types. When I ask them what they want to do, more often than not they’ll squeal “stay at home”. Imagine that accompanied by a whoop of joy and a fist pump and you’ll have a picture of how excited they get at the prospect of actually playing with their toys. They’re quite happy (I think) not to be dragged hither and thither. Throw open the doors on a hot, sunny day and you’ll most likely find them indoors stretched out on the floor with their heads in colouring books. I’ve read a lot of brilliant articles about the importance of letting your children be bored so why do I feel like I’m doing them long-term harm? And why does it make me feel so darned lazy?

I know that people aren’t out with their kids every day. I’m by no means critical of parents who have their holiday activities planned down to the last second – I’m jealous of them. I’m as keen as anyone to get out and about, especially as it can make for a more stress-free day. Crumbs on someone else’s floor; the great outdoors to absorb the high decibel output of a 3-year-old that otherwise shakes the windows at home; and perhaps, if you’re lucky, the kids will fall asleep in the car on the way home (without having been sick over the car seat first).

Balance is what I’m after. But on days at home I just can’t escape the feeling of guilt. It’s not as if I’m using the time to put my feet up. If it’s anything like a normal day, I’ll be fixing legs back on dinosaurs, sweeping up glitter, refereeing an argument or being forewarned there’s a poo on the way every five minutes. Guaranteed at the end of the day I’ll be ready to run out of the door roaring and baring my chest.

On the flipside of all the guilt, a day at home has its advantages. Dishwashers get cleaned, kids discover old favourites in the depths of the toybox and I get to drink vulgar amounts of tea without worrying about having to use the Potette on a public highway. Maybe there is some rest for the wicked parents after all.

2014: the year of less of this and more of that

3 Jan

Play doh

I gave up making resolutions a few years ago. They were never kept because I never remembered them. On top of that, I don’t like the guilt that can be the by-product of resolutions. I get enough of that from tippy-toeing around the minefield that is parenting. For these reasons I opt to have a New Year’s theme. It may only be a few words but this theme is the tune I endeavour to hear in my head above the sound of hooves as I ride bareback into a new year on a wild, galloping horse.

What is my mantra for this coming year? 2014 is set to be the year of less of this and more of that. It’s suitably vague enough not to commit me to anything but, if adhered to, has the potential to put a thumbscrew on the things that take up more of my time than they really ought to.  I also hope it will tweak the nose of everything that I find annoying about myself. Something of a tall order but for which – be still your beating hearts – I’ve made a shortlist below:

Less
  • Shouting
  • Pussy footing / navel gazing / thumb twiddling / head scratching
  • What if?
  • Multiple browser tabs whilst trying to work (Facebook and Twitter aren’t my friends)
  • Property Wars and Storage Hunters
  • Holding my tongue (not in the literal sense – I get enough dribble from my 2-year-old).
More
  • Channeling the Orange Rhino
  • Grabbing the bull by the horns
  • Clichés (see point above)
  • Letting it all wash over me (I’m not going to be where the pebble drops, I’m going to be riding one of those gentle ripples right at the very edge, dude)
  • Balls (I’m going to grow some)
  • Appreciating the good stuff whilst kicking the bad stuff in the crotch
  • Speaking my mind (pre-speaking risk assessments still apply)
  • Self-indulgent blog posts.

Two days into 2014 and how am I doing? Well, going by the last point on my list I’d say that‘s a finger swipe in the air to me. Off to a good start, only 363 days to go.

Happy New Year!

All change please!

29 Aug

Life changes

A few months back I made a momentous decision. I decided to leave the company where I had worked for 12 years (ie since I was young) and set sail on the choppy seas of being a freelance. This is my first week of living that decision. Whilst my head is spinning and I’m rattling between excitement and fear, sometimes you just have to grab life with two hands and have a bit of a tussle.

Since the brood arrived, I’ve always worked: full-time after my first then part-time after my second. I never really considered not working (aside from if I won the lottery obviously). I know that I don’t have the patience or organisational skills to be a stay-at-home-parent – and lashings of credit to those that do. It wasn’t until after my second child was born that I started to have pangs about missing out on spending more time with my rapidly growing kids. When we started to look at primary schools last year it suddenly struck me that the school years were really, truly, frighteningly close. No longer was I simply looking backwards at what I achingly thought I had already missed but I was suddenly conscious of what I might miss in the future.

Although I know most people manage it, the thought of having to organise pre- and after-school care for my eldest filled me with horror. I realised how important it is to me to be able to drop my daughter off (and pick her up of course – really, what kind of parent do you think I am?!) and to be there to help with reading and homework. Perhaps I am too idealistic. In reality I may end up cursing the school run, scuttling away from the gates because I can’t fit into skinny jeans or because another mother has looked at me in a funny way. Visions of sitting at the kitchen table doing sums together may turn out to be running battles over the TV remote and whether it’s okay to substitute a packet of Haribos in place of tea. Do you know what though? If I don’t try then I will never find out. Life is too short.

Continuing my current career as a freelance allows the flexibility I need as my daughter skips off into the education machine without a backward glance at me. Her brother will follow her in two years’ time but until then I am looking forward to spending more one-to-one time with him – something he hasn’t had over the last two years. He will continue to go to nursery three days a week to give me some ‘work time’. I believe strongly that nursery is a great social environment for children and that my two have benefited enormously from it. Yet I still struggle with the guilt that I should be doing that job, especially now I have opted to work from home, and wonder whether advocating nursery simply serves to make myself feel better. When I drop my son off at nursery and return home to my desk I know I will feel an overwhelming urge to go back and get him and wrap him in my arms (gorgeous little chunk that he is). It seems that parental guilt is never ending even when you’re aiming to do the best for everyone.

Now I just have to persuade my husband that it isn’t acceptable to guffaw when I say I’ve been working. But that’s another post and another strain of guilt entirely …

Review: Walkers Hoops and Crosses

8 May

crisp snacks

My kids like eating crisps but, in my well-meaning motherly way, I’d rather they didn’t. They think happy thoughts; I think tooth decay and the obesity epidemic. Yet I’m a firm believer in not denying food stuffs that err on the naughtier side as long as it’s in moderation and stops my kids from developing a forbidden fruit complex. It was with excitement and some trepidation then that I let a new crisp product through my door and into the mouths of my kids.

Walkers Hoops and Crosses are a new baked corn snack aimed at children but also at parents like me who are keen to have their guilt allayed by the promise of wholegrains (a wholesome 56% in the case of Hoops and Crosses). Apparently some kids don’t get enough wholegrain – unlike my offspring who are able to consume their own body weight in Cheerios. If you’re less than 4 foot tall and easily seduced by something in a shiny packet then it might as well be a snack that gives a nod to the dark side of healthy. Hoops and Crosses are free from artificial colours and preservatives and are only 85 calories a bag – tick, tick, tick.

Walkers Hoops and Crosses

Monkey not always included. 😦

My 4-year-old and 2-year-old didn’t need much persuasion to give Hoops and Crosses a go, particularly as they’re shaped like … hoops and crosses. (Novelty factor – tick!) We got our grubby mitts on the Roast Beef flavour and, once we’d discussed that not every packet comes with a toy monkey (thanks Walkers!), the packet was almost evenly divided between brother and sister. Sister was full of praise: “yummy”, “they taste like carrots” (errrr …) and “no, NO, they’re mine!” Her brother doesn’t say much yet but I assume his silence was evidence of both happiness and a rather full mouth.

Walkers Hoops and Crosses

You can even eat them out of shoes.

After wrestling the packet from the children, I also tried a few. I couldn’t taste roast beef, although I rarely can in a non-meat format. I wouldn’t buy Hoops and Crosses to eat myself but I can see why my kids enjoyed them.  They are also pleasantly free of the voluminous (and luminous) crumb dust that other well-known children’s snacks emit – the death knell of many a white t-shirt. I’m not overly convinced though by the flavours that Walkers have chosen: roast beef, prawn cocktail and salt and vinegar. I would have preferred the blander classics like cheese and ready salted. After all, kids relish bland, as evidenced by the roaring trade in those tasteless little ricecakes.

Would I buy Hoops and Crosses again? Yes. I’m not sure they will replace our beloved Pom-Bears (another product that proves that kids like shapes as much as, if not more than, taste) but Hoops and Crosses will be an appealing alternative. If my kids will on occasion insist on turning their noses up at fruit in favour of crisps then I say “hooray” for a snack that will force a little element of something good into them.  And who am I to argue with this face?

Eating crisps 

This is a sponsored post for Walkers crisps and I received the products pictured as well as compensation for writing this review. However, all opinions are my own and I was under no obligation to write a positive review.

Me! Me! Me!

17 Jan

Raising considerate children

A day off work waiting at home for a delivery is not without its dangers. First, there is the guilt over sending the kids to nursery whilst you put your feet up and enjoy visiting the toilet in peace. Secondly, stuck inside and craving interaction with the outside world, your usual defence mechanisms are weakened and this can lead to you answering the door in a reckless fashion. Cue people of a certain denomination ‘spreading the word’. Cue a parenting blog post. Yes, really. Inspiration moves in the most mysterious ways.

I don’t believe in God myself but I do make time to listen on the doorstep. I will inevitably shut the door clutching a selection of leaflets and, because I feel guilty at having taken leaflets that could have gone to someone more likely to be converted, I do try to at least flick through them. (Thus, I expect, earning myself brownie points should there turn out to be a god.) Amongst the latest batch of leaflets, little did I expect to find a whole pamphlet on parenting. Whilst it didn’t leave me questioning my lack of faith, it did leave me questioning my parenting skills.

The feature article was entitled ‘Raising Considerate Children in a Me-First World’ – “If you are a parent, how can you help your children to reap the benefits of being kind and to avoid being contaminated by the self-absorbed culture that surrounds them?” I was transported back to Christmas Day and an image of my 4-year-old surrounded by piles of toys and wrapping paper. She asked “Are there any more presents?” whilst I sat thinking about how lucky my children are and wishing she could find contentment and happiness in a lump of coal. Everyone wants their children to be happy but how can you ensure this without the negative consequences of them believing that they are at the centre of the universe?

The article outlined 3 “traps” that can create inconsiderate, self-centred children:

1. Overpraising

“Do not dole out praise just to make your children feel good about themselves” – a slapped wrist for parents who “have been unduly influenced by the self-esteem movement”. Of course, you shouldn’t praise your child for everything and bad behaviour should be addressed in an appropriate way. If my 4-year-old threw a plate of spaghetti at the wall I certainly wouldn’t praise her for the wonderful mural she had created. However, as someone with low self-esteem who is terrified of passing on my own neuroses to my children, please do excuse me if I choose to lavish praise on them to make them feel good about themselves, however small the achievement. A lack of self-confidence has the tendency to saddle you for life. That self-doubt (whether it be a drop or an ocean) can permeate everything you do and hold you back rather than propel you forward. I would much rather my children approached everything believing they can do it well, rather than wondering whether they will do it well enough.

2. Overprotecting

“Whilst it is natural to want to protect your children, overprotecting them can send the wrong message – that they do not need to take responsibility for their actions.” In my opinion, there is a difference between protecting them against the consequences of their own actions and protecting them against adversity in the world around them. My children are both under 5 and are firmly wrapped up in the cotton wool I have spun just for them. Every day in the car I have to switch the radio off when a news bulletin comes on describing death and destruction in the world. Yet my 4-year-old still picks up odd words and asks questions – as much as I can sensitively bat away those questions, I know that little snippets will be sticking in her mind and sowing seeds of worry. She is not old enough yet not to be overprotected from the world around her. As for my children’s own actions, no, I won’t completely ignore it if, for example, they fail a test. However what I will do is ensure they understand how they can do things differently in future. I hope I can give them the confidence to accept responsibility and move forward, learning on the way.

3. Overproviding

“In a survey of young adults, 81 per cent said that the most important goal of their generation is ‘to become rich’ – rating it far above helping others.” This is about stuff. Stuff and money. Stuff and money and things. It is also where I hold my hands up and look shiftily at the floor. I acknowledge that I am guilty of buying my children things as treats to make them happy and – okay, okay, I admit it – things that they ask for. I also acknowledge that I’m not doing a good job of trying to instill in them a sense of the value of things or that treats sometimes have to be earned. Am I creating monsters? If I am watching a full-on tantrum in a toy shop then I would say ‘yes’, I am. If I am watching my oldest sellotape tissues to a toilet roll and use it as a sword to attack her brother then I would say, most definitely, ‘no’. Like all children, they take pleasure in the most modest and unexpected of things and, thankfully, are not complete slaves to the best that money can buy.

The emergence of a generation of self-centred individuals seems to be weighing heavily on society’s conscious. The policy in China of only one child per couple has, it is commonly believed, created children who, being used to being the sole focus, have grown up selfish and prone to neglect their parents. Indeed, China has recently introduced a law to force children to visit their elderly parents. In the last few days, research in the US has suggested that high-self esteem in students can actually lead to less successful lives. (Of course, the definition of success is debatable – if my kids end up scraping gum off the pavement for a living but are happy, healthy and contented then I would consider that a success.) My own recent experience in a very rich foreign country (which shall remain unnamed) and the proliferation of kids there with an enormous sense of entitlement and a complete lack of manners left me very conscious of the little people I am bringing into the world. Reminders of my duty as a parent to help my children become considerate members of society appear where I least expect them – and for that reason my door will always be open.

Bagging up the baby years

20 Dec

Bagged clothes

Maybe it was the time of year. Maybe it was the day off work with no kids and the associated mountain of guilt. It could have been the duck slip-sliding across the icy pond with the Andrex puppy (if indeed that advert were being shown this year instead of the peculiar mating ritual of two snowpersons). Perhaps it was just plain old hormones. Whatever it was, today I sorted a bag of clothes for charity and it made me cry.

It wasn’t any old bag of stuff. It was a bag of my now 4-year-old daughter’s clothes through from the amazingly poo-stain free baby gros of her first few months to this summer’s t-shirts that, thanks to a recent growth spurt, would quite likely now restrict her breathing and strangle her digestive system. The process of holding up, sniffing, cuddling (was she really that small?) and folding brought the tears a-rolling. And don’t get me started on the pulsating ovaries.

When did she get so flipping big?!

When did she get so flipping big?!

Getting rid of items that hold memories is, of course, never easy. The giving away of your child’s clothes is a process that acknowledges a period in your life that has been lost and will never be regained. As you watch the rapid pace at which they grow and lose their baby features (and, in the case of my 4-year-old, start using teenage expressions such as ‘wicked’ and ‘random’, god help me) you grapple with the urge to slow time down. (Okay, maybe not everyone does – it’s frequently said that the first year with a baby can be quite sh*t and so roll on walking, talking and cow’s milk.) For those of us who have nursery artwork from the year dot bulging out of every cupboard, to hand on those little tights that went with that little dress is to begrudgingly shake the hand of Old Father Time and congratulate him on winning.

But back to the ovaries. (And apologies to those people reading this who know me in ‘real life’ and may not be able to look me in the eye again.) Filling a bag with baby clothes is now, for me, not for storage (as is often the case after your first child) but is (after a second child) for clearing the way for the paraphernalia that school children, teenagers and, ultimately, young adults bring. All that future thinking and the joys to look forward to aside, the fact remains that at some point you draw a line in your life, gently rub your stretch marks and decide to hang up (bingo wings flapping) your maternity tops. Your family is complete.

Bear with me now whilst I’m a touch morose (it’s the end of the world tomorrow apparently so no better a time to plunge into the depths of despair). Major life events – first job, meeting the one you love, marriage (or not), kids – are heavily loaded towards the first half of your life. It is inevitable then that when these are complete you start to wonder whether there is anything to look forward to. Things stop happening to you and they start happening to your children. All whilst your womb slowly withers. Don’t get me wrong, there is an awful lot to enjoy still to come – and retirement is a mere three decades away.

Who would’ve thought that giving baby clothes to charity would spark such a deep pondering of the meaning of life and of the hanging up of the reproductive organs? I’d just have cleaned the bathroom or picked my nose if I’d known.  No wonder I cried. Maybe my brood is now complete – that said, never say never.  Kids’ clothes are cheap to come by and there’s always the charity shop.

 

Faulty parenting

12 Nov

Long gone are the days when my daughter would actually listen to me. Something has happened since she turned 4. A fracture in the time continuum occurred on Tuesday 25th September 2012 and added a ‘1’ to the front of her true age and left her a teenager imprisoned in a pre-schooler’s body. And that angry teenager is trying to get out …

Forgive me if I’ve said it before (and if I have it may well be evidence of a paranoia that I can add to a long list of others) but as I freewheel uncontrollably down the cycle lane of parenting it is blindingly obvious that being a parent brings with it an awful lot of guilt. As soon as the placenta has been delivered (or sooner if you want to count the ‘natural’ birth versus c-section debate) you’re faced with an ongoing volley of (apparently) moral dilemmas. Breast or bottle? Attachment parenting or send them to live with the in-laws 400 miles away? To return to work or not to return to work? These be the questions.

When you’ve had enough of other parents thrusting their views on you the last thing you need is your own child turning round and lobbing a nappy bucket full of guilt in your face. But that is exactly what has happened since my daughter turned 4. Completely incapable of accepting any responsibility for any of her actions, and truly in the spirit of the teenage years, the finger of blame now points firmly in the faces of me and her father. An example:

“Mummy! You’ve made me drop the huge bogey I was playing with.”

“Daddy! You made me do that!” [As she falls over attempting something that would make Sportacus split his lycra pants. Daddy cannot answer as he has been in another room for the last ten minutes. You get my point.]

If we were in the US she’d be suing our butts off. We daren’t move. We daren’t talk. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has social services on speed dial on her Barbie phone. I cannot fathom where this desire to lay the guilt on Ma and Pa has suddenly sprung from. Oh … hold on. To blame others is of course one of the best forms of self-preservation. My little girl cannot stand even the merest hint of being told off. To open one’s mouth in the shape of a potential retribution causes tears to shoot from her eyes and you are forced to carefully reconsider the tone of your voice (“Mummy, you said it in a cross way, not in a loveable way”). She has decided to take a massive baseball bat to Mummy and Daddy’s authority.

This is my little girl becoming independent. She’s discovered the blame game and the time it can buy you. (Long may that skill continue into her adult life.) Of course she has no understanding of the externally imposed and internally inflicted guilt that her parents shoulder (gawd, I’ve just seen an advert for Kirstie’s Vintage Home), but she has spotted our weakness and that’s our desire to be perfect parents. What’s another layer of guilt to add to the mille-feuille of parenting?

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