Lesson 14: Your Child Will Behave Impeccably for Others

It’s one of life’s leading injustices.

Not that your child behaves nicely, because of course *forces smiles through gritted teeth* we welcome good behaviour. Rather the injustice lies in the fact that your child will appear to save all disruptive, angry and frankly INTOLERABLE behaviour just for you. Joyful.

I have to be honest here, at times I have concluded it MUST BE ME. As already outlined in Lesson 8 I am not a natural ‘Coper,’ in fact more often than not I think I am not coping at all. Perhaps my child knows this, and chooses to push my already weary buttons…

However, in the last month or two I have turned this conclusion on its head and I am now one hundred percent certain that parents simply get the worst of their bundles of joy.

We get the bundle, minus the joy.

Often a snotty, angry, clingy bundle who is seemingly on hunger strike and throws his cutlery across the table…maybe that’s just mine - he turns two this week, and quite frankly I am at my wits’ end with his general behaviour *reaches for wine.*

It doesn’t matter who else looks after him for the day (grandparents/child-minder/postman), he is invariably well behaved. Comments on collection/pick-up range from ‘he’s been good as gold’ to ‘isn’t he easy to look after?!’ The latter is nearly enough ammunition for me to claw both my eyes out in a frustrated rage. Said rage is also accompanied by marginal guilt that I am almost willing him to behave poorly for somebody else, so I can report back quite honestly ‘THIS IS MY WHOLE LIFE!’  

When I have him for a day on my own, I don’t successfully manage to do anything (he kicks off in every shop/at the doctors/in the library - purposefully collapsing face down on the floor is commonplace). When his grandparents take him shopping/to the library/out for lunch he is, by all accounts, helpful. Say what?



How my child behaves for others

His 'special' behaviour reserved for me

On Sunday, I had the luxury of a lie-in (sorry to mums who have not had one of these in a while, I won’t dwell on it). Anyhow, I surfaced at 10am and ventured downstairs with the promise of a nice family day stretching out before me. I had been downstairs for no longer than two minutes when Helpful Henry turned into Hurricane Henry, and yet another breakfast was eaten with him hanging off my leg and snivelling on my dressing gown.

Me: ‘What’s the matter?’
Henry: ‘I WANT BUZZ’
Me: ‘You want Buzz Lightyear?’ *fetches Buzz Lightyear*
Henry: ‘NO! Take it AWAY!!’
Me: ‘Okay, Buzz has gone away’
Henry: *screams* ‘BUZZ!!’
And so it begins.

Not an unusual turn of events, you might think, until my dear husband (obviously in my good books for facilitating my lie-in), stated:

'He was absolutely fine until you came down. Good as gold.’

I won’t repeat my reply.  

The Unmumsy Mum

Lesson 13: Why It's Fine To Reminisce About BEFORE

We all do it.
Okay, some of us (ahem) look back at the Before Days marginally more often than others.
Regardless, I just want to put it out there that this is FINE.
Normal, natural, necessary.

Some mums, I have noticed, don’t partake in Before Remembrance.  This, I believe, is largely due to feeling guilty about thinking back to a time when we were not mums. As if it signifies regret for having joined The Motherhood. I feel no such guilt, and I’ll tell you for why.

The Before Days should be celebrated for all they represented.
Freedom, lie-ins, going to the cinema, having something to get ready for (baby gym class doesn’t count), climbing the career ladder (or not climbing it through choice), having time to browse, having money to buy, having dimple free thighs, uninterrupted sleep, Hangover Sundays, talking to your partner (not about kids), having a tantrum free dinner, going on holiday...

My word the list is endless!

Carefree Camping at V Festival

There is no shame in remembering these Glory Days.
Last week, when my toddler lay on the floor in Next screaming ‘HELP ME I’M STUCK! FIRE! CALL FIREMAN SAM!’ (he wasn’t stuck, there was no fire) I remembered with great fondness the days when I could actually look at clothes whilst out shopping. And try them on. Without getting red and sweaty and without swearing.

Do I miss life before motherhood? HELL YES. Is that not allowed?

I am by no means suggesting I would rather not have a child. The situation is different now. You are in no way being unfaithful to your bundles of joy by remembering life without them, nor are you wishing to wipe them out of the equation. Rather, you are remembering life before. A different time. A special time.



Having a tan. Being slim. Reading. This is my ultimate Before Remembrance indulgence

From now on, when people say ‘god I can’t imagine life without the kids, can you?’ I will stand tall and say 'YES I BLOODY CAN. It was beautiful.'

The Unmumsy Mum

Lesson 12: The 12 Days of Toddler Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
A whole day of being clingy!

On the second day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy!

On the third day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy!

On the fourth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the fifth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the sixth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy!

On the seventh day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the eighth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Eight 'share' refusals
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the ninth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Nine demands for CAKE
Eight 'share' refusals
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the tenth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Ten soggy rice cakes
Nine demands for CAKE
Eight 'share' refusals
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Eleven shouts of 'No!' 
Ten soggy rice cakes
Nine demands for CAKE
Eight 'share' refusals
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

On the twelfth day of Christmas, my toddler gave to me...
Twelve hours of headache
Eleven shouts of 'No!' 
Ten soggy rice cakes
Nine demands for CAKE
Eight 'share' refusals
Seven angry tantrums
Six 'washable' pen stains
Five separate injuries
Four shitty nappies
Three hours of Peppa Pig
Two piles of washing
And a whole day of being clingy! 

Lesson 10: For You, Mum.

You will never read this.

So I guess this is a fruitless exercise. What is the point? 

Maybe I don't know. Maybe after ten years of saying very little about how I feel I just needed an outlet to say:

It is so unbelievably shit that you died. 

Being a mum is really bloody tough. 

I need you now. 

I long for phone calls and shopping trips and catch-up coffees. Sometimes when I see other mums and daughters out together I feel like somebody is twisting my stomach. I look away quickly, but I have seen it. It hits me. And I miss what I will never have. 

I miss what you will never have. You will never know that you are a grandmother. "Nanny Debbie" we call you, after Henry pointed to the picture I keep of you on my bedside table and asked 'who's that?' He was delighted with the answer.

We play the 'who's at the door?' game when visitors come round. Last week, when asked 'who's at the door?' Henry replied (with a smile) "It's Nanny Debbie!"

I love him for wanting you to be at the door. But at the same time  my heart broke. 

The late 80s with us girls

Some day soon I will have to explain why you will never pop in for a cup of tea, or pick him up to take him swimming. And why when we say we are going to 'Nanny Debbie's beach' it will be an outing to the beautiful spot we scattered your ashes.

It is all so remarkably sad.

I want you to know that I will think about you every day for the rest of my life. And I know now. How you must have felt knowing you had no control over leaving us to grow up without you. 

Because now I am the Mum. 

And though I find it a struggle I will do a fabulous job at bringing him up. That's a promise. 

After all, I learned from the best.

The Unmumsy Mum

Oh how we miss you. And Crumble the dog.

Lesson 9: The Motherhood Exam

Five test questions every woman should have to pass before being allowed to take delivery of a small person. As seen in all good parenting magazines*

I have highlighted my selected answers in bold and you can see my score at the bottom. Feel free to play along at home. 

1. Is your favourite noise whinging and/or loud irritating play spaces filled with other peoples' children?
Yes, I can't get enough of moaning and screaming children. 
No *shudders at recent soft play encounter*

2. Are you thrilled at the prospect of looking like an older and more haggard version of your former self - almost instantly and for EVER?
Yes, a mature new look!
No. I'd rather not age 10 years in 10 months. 

3. Have you had enough of spending any money on yourself?
Yes. Who needs things for themselves?
No. A new outfit and/or toiletries not bought in Lidl would still be nice once in a blue moon.

4. Are you such a fan of sharing that you would like to spend every waking minute of the day with a smaller person - even toilet time?
Yes. How lovely, like an extension of myself.
No, I prefer to wee/cook the dinner without an irritable other person clinging onto my leg. 

5. Would you enjoy even the simplest of outings becoming a mission with a child in tow? 
Yes. 
NO I BLOODY WOULDN'T.

Results
You scored 0/5. You are not cut out for parenthood. Probably best to stick to the day job for a few more years, or perhaps forever. 

Oh. 
Bollocks. 
That explains it. 

*This is of course all lies. I made it up in a fit of toddler-induced rage.