Saturday 19 January 2013

Day 15... Bloody kids.


TUESDAY, 15 JANUARY 2013

I am doing well. I am cartwheeling everywhere that space permits and life couldn't be better. I am bouncing out of bed every day, arms wide, ready to embrace what this wonderful world has to offer me. Yes, its truly marvellous. That is apart from one thing. My kids are reeeeeeeeally getting on my nerves. That's right, you heard me. At this moment in time I cannot stand the sight of them. Quick! Call Social Services! I've just said something negative about my children and that must mean that they are living in squalor, suffering from daily beatings and are being fed through bars. Oh WAAAHHH. Get over it! I'm only saying what 99.9% of parents are thinking or have thought at some point in their parenting career. (I say career because us mum's work really bloody hard so hellooooo? Can we have a pension please or cheaper childcare so we don't have to subject ourselves to such evils on a daily basis???).

I currently have a 2 year old who insists on throwing, hitting, shouting 'NO!' to absolutely everything, wants to go on flipping trains every waking minute of every single day and thinks he owns the TV. I also have a daughter in her 'tweens'. For those of you who don't know that means, it is basically those lovely years when your gorgeous little one is no longer a gorgeous little one, nor is she/he a moaning, stomping, spotty, stinky teenager either. They are at that awkward, annoying phase where they the have the worst of both  - they think they know it all and call you on a Friday after school to ask if they can go to Costa (Yes really.) but on the other hand they wouldn't think it embarrassing one iota if they wet the bed. Seriously, my tweenager is lucky to be alive today, truth be told.. Instead of wrappingmy hands around her baby-soft neck last night, I thought it best to ring the Nut House and book myself in for this time next year when she is officially a teenager. Seriously it's the safest thing for us both. You see, we clash. I know lots of mothers are at logger heads with their daughters especially in these tween/teenage years so that makes me feel better but what really gets to me is that I know there are deeper reasons for our shouting matches and this evening while loading the washing machine with the net curtains I had scavenged frommy neighbours bin, it hit me. It's simple. She is just like me.

Here are just a few examples of our many similarities:

1. She back-chats. 

I back-chatted! I STILL back-chat. I have absolutely no filter between my brain and mouth. That's why writing is good because I can delete things that are offensive or in this case, might cause people to call Social Services on me.

2. She laughs at her own jokes.

I do this. I know it's wrong but I can't help it! I think I'm funny. And she'll say she's funny, so there you go.

3. She has absolutely NO self discipline.

Like two pea(head)'s in a pod, homework was/is our nemesis. I was only good at handing inmy homework for the first half of year 7 and after that it was all down hill. I got myboyfriend to do my Art homework for me once and my teacher said it was the best work I'd ever done! (I should also tell you that this was the same teacher who couldn't see I was buzzing off my nut after eating a massive lump of hash and believed my story that I had a bug, despite me holding his hand, telling him my heart was going to explode and that picture I had just puked on was 'raising up above the sick.' So his opinions don't really count.)

4. She is a soap dodger.

I once didn't wash for 5 days. I had however just had my heart broken and as far as I'm aware no one has put my lovely, gorgeous baby girl through that yet, so she has no bloody excuse!

5. She whistles, ALL the time!

At least once a month we have an argument over who is the better Whistler. Quite clearly it's me because I can whistle both on the out breath and the in breath, which enables me to whistle a tune with power and fluidity. We have just had a row about this and I've had to count to ten.

6. She never does what she's told.

Neither do I. There's one time in particular that sticks in my mind because it's so ridiculous and had no benefits for me whatsoever. Emily was 2 and we were on the bus. An old lady said, 'Oh isn't HE lovely?' (she was head to toe in pink!) 'Thank you I said', not wanting to offend. The next thing, Emily started to lick the window and just before the word ,'No' came out, the old lady in a horrible voice, said 'Don't let him do that! Don't let him lick that filthy window!' I looked at the old bag, who obviously thought I was a stupid teenage mum (trust me, that was the worst thing you could do to me back then) and sat back in the chair and continued to let Emily lick that discusting, dirty, condensationed up window like she was licking a 99. How was I winning???

And finally number 7. I worry that she has low self esteem.

It's this one that worries me the most and it's this which reminds me I need to succeed. I need to put behind me my failures, like having a baby way too young but mainly not having the confidence to show the world what I'm made of. Instead I gave into the sad existence of a young, single mum and would often drink myself into oblivion because that to me was easier than fighting to get what I deserved, mum or not. She needs to see that if I can do it, so can she. This is not a woe me. Far from it! And anyone else who feels that they need to get their feelings or worries out there, do it! This is really helping me! I'm going to sort this out and I'll do that by adding my next step. Over the next few days, I am going to write a list of things that I like about myself. Perhaps I can just look at Emily? She drives me mad but I love so much about her and like I said, she's just like me.

Happy Chops x

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