Didn’t I just have so many smug fantasies when I was a non-parent about how good a parent I’d be. I’d be firm on guns, idealistic on television and an organiphile in the kitchen. My children would turn out to be vegetable eating, TV shunning, outdoor loving creative geniuses due to my exceptional guidance. Me? I’d be a serene, honest, zen like, ever patient goddess-mother in flowing dresses. My home would be filled with wonderful craft I’d invented and created on fun filled afternoons, toys would be wooden, carved from sustainable forests and my perfect children would tend their own gardens and ant farms.
I never had any of the moments as depicted in the top picture. I’ve had many of the second. Let’s see how my pre-children children plan turned out.
I’d be firm on guns, idealistic on television and an organiphile in the kitchen. My children would turn out to be vegetable eating, TV shunning, outdoor loving creative geniuses due to my exceptional guidance.
So far, I have been firm on guns with the recent exception of a pump action water super soaker that I felt Mr 5 should have in order to compete with his cousins. Television! Let me count the ways I love thee. I can name all the Octonaughts, all of Thomas’s friends and, god help me, the trippy freaks on The Night Garden. My children’s vegetable consumption is negligible apart from what frozen offenders I can hide in the mac and cheese. Organic schmanic. They do love to play outside, but only after I have REALLY put my foot down and said no more TV.
I’d be a serene, honest, zen like, ever patient goddess-mother in flowing dresses.
These words are not ones I would apply to my parenting style. I do not own any flowing dresses. I try really, really hard, but I am not serene. In fact, I’ve discovered a new strategy in my quest for parenting competence. It turns out that dishonesty with one’s children, carefully applied, can avert many small disasters. When my children are yelling at me for one thing or another (gee I wonder where they learnt that), I am often known to reply yes darling, mummy is coming! Knowing full well that by the time their 90 second attention span kicks in, they’ll have forgotten that they were waiting on some demand from me and have moved on, leaving me free to continue [insert household chore here].
My home would be filled with wonderful craft I’d invented and created on fun filled afternoons, toys would be wooden, carved from sustainable forests and my perfect children would tend their own gardens and ant farms.
My home is filled with
wonderful craft. Piles and piles and piles of freakin never ending craft. Craft that comes home from day care, grandma’s house. holiday club….and occasionally craft of my own making. So much craft that I have to craftily figure out how to throw it out without them finding out about my callous disregard for their artistic genius. Mr 5 has in the past found said craft in said bin and I’ve had to employ the above strategy (ie lying) to evade blame for crushing his blossoming ego by binning his incredible creations. Incredibly prolific creations. He’s the Bryce Courtenay of kiddie craft. Toys, oh mary mother of plastic. We have a handful of Poppy-made carved wooden toys and the rest is plastic-made-in-sweat-shop-shit. Stuff that honestly sometimes lasts for less time than it took to get it out of the packaging. We do have a great garden. Which is destroyed daily by my garden trashing kiddlers. Sometimes we have flowers and they last about a half a second before they are ripped from their moorings and ground into mush. And in fact we do have an ant farm. An abandoned ant farm that my husband took more of an interest in than it’s 5 year old recipient.
Ahhh…motherhood…I’m all over it!