My Top 10 Parenting Fails!

Let’s be honest, no parent is perfect.We all make mistakes,balls things up regularly and I’m sure most of us have thoughts such as “what the hell am I meant to do now?” when faced with a new baby to look after alone! So here are some of the things I’ve naffed up so far – and these are just the ones I haven’t hidden in the ‘too embarrassed to remember’ memory banks!

1.The time I forgot to pack sick bags for my child who got terrible car sickness and as I had a brand spanking new courtesy car at the time I didn’t want him vomming all over it I had to give him my freshly bought day old handbag. Couldn’t face washing it out and had to bin it!

2.The time I left it 2 seconds longer than I should have to find out why my daughter was quiet only to find her in the bathroom covering herself in tooth paste. Mmmm Minty fresh!

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3.The time the hubby and I were  brave whilst we were potty training and took our daughter to his Mum’s without a clean pull-up.Cue wet patch on her settee and cream carpet. Awkward.

4.The time I thought “what harm could it do?” if I let my little man eat Coco Pops on the living room floor.What could possibly go wrong. Right?

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5.The time I didn’t check that we did, in fact, still have spare clothes in the boot of the car and let the kids play in the stream. Cue poor little 6 year old boy crying on the way home as the makeshift cover-up hoody “looked like a skirt”.

6.The time,whilst baking with the kids, I said “don’t touch anything” while I went to get something. Came back to find my kitchen like a scene from Frozen. No pics sadly,was too traumatized.

7.The time my Mum was watching Countdown and every time the Countdown clock got to the end my 3 year old shouted “Effing hell” to this day I have NO idea where on earth he got it from as I never watch it! Fair to say she was horrified – although I’m sure I saw a sneaky smirk as she turned away.

8.The time I forgot to give my son his dinner money, on ringing the secretary to apologise and ask if they could provide him with a lunch and I would pay later I was met with a stony silence – I’m sure she was pressing the speed dial for Social Services. Surely I can’t have been the first – or last?!

9.The time my 2 year old daughter did a runner in Asda only to be picked up giggling and brought back by the Security Guard, in the meantime her Father and I had 3 heart attacks each and lost at least 10 years off our lives!

10.The time I got on the bus and this pic was scrawled on the seat in front.I’m ashamed to say I absolutely wet myself and the kids thought I’d completely lost the plot and wanted to know why I was laughing. Obvs I said it was because there was a silly man making faces outside!

 

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Rookie Mistakes

Sympathy Empathy Wimpathy

Driving to work I ran over a squirrel, he was already dead mind you but I felt really bad for him. He would have no idea about of course but still I felt terribly guilty. How would I feel in his situation? Well dead, probably.

Sometimes though I think I empathise and ‘put myself in another person’s shoes’ a little too much. I’m the type of person who overthinks absolutely everything to a ridiculous degree. The Other Half and I argue all the time over discipline of the teen. He thinks if he’s stupidly late home he should be locked out end of. I however would panic that something would happen, what if he freezes to death, what if aliens, what if clowns, what if some idiot decided to hurt him just for fun ? I just can’t follow it through. Is it a maternal thing or just my nature? He says I’m just a soft touch, a wimp. I need to put my foot down and be tougher.

Sometimes I take it way too far like with poor old Sammy Squirrel. I’ve also found myself feeling sorry for a lone bean left in the tin. I mean come on! I still have to fish the poor sod out, even though I’m sending him to a certain death by boiling him in tomato sauce anyway. Not sure which is worse but I wouldn’t want him to be all lonely and stuff.

Other things I feel sorry for include:

• Dolls my daughter has stripped down naked. Have to redress them at night, OMG what if they got cold? Poor buggers, I’d never forgive myself.

• The last cake left. How on earth people work in Greggs is beyond me. I’d never be able to let that last doughnut be alone. I’d retire looking like Violet Beauregarde.

• The poor Malteser that rolled under the sofa. Can’t bring myself to eat that one though. Can I?

• Older people who look really shocked when you smile at them. I carry on walking whilst worrying to myself whether I should have invited them home for a cuppa, what if they haven’t spoken to anyone in weeks? More likely they just think I’m a right weirdo and hope I won’t nick their handbag.

• This sweet that someone left in the dish at work, who in their right mind leaves a sweet all alone in the world. What kind of monsters am I working with?

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• Other peoples kids that cry in town. Now that kid could be crying because their Mum said no to them taking the plastic owl home from outside Greggs that’s there to scare the pigeons – not that the pigeons care they stick up 2 claws behind it’s back and spark up a fag- but hey that kid thought it was the cutest thing ever despite it having barely any paint on it and looking like it had a rough night at the Billy’s Bird Bar. Still makes me feel all ‘aww love him’.

Is it a bad thing that I feel so much sympathy/empathy/wimpathy should I ‘man up’ so to speak or is it good that I’m one of lifes carers? Do you ever find yourself feeling sorry for something completely random?

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Shall we naff off then?

Day 4 of #Blogtober17 with HexMum has the prompt ‘Date’ so I chose this post as it has the story of our first date.

My Mum and I went to a restaurant today. I use the term ‘went’ loosely because by ‘went’ i mean we attended said establishment however after we were shown to our table in a corner in the busiest, noisiest place I have ever set foot in and my Mum had to wait to sit down because the girl at the table 6 inches away from us decided to take her time removing her coat with elbows all over the shop like a dancing toddler, my Mum started doing her signature ‘getting her hair off face’. Not a good start. We picked up a menu and shouted “what do you fancy” like literally shouted. She looked at me. I looked at her. “This isn’t for us is it?” I said. “Not quite what I was expecting no” she said. “Shall we naff off then?” I said. The relief literally jumped out of her and did a jig. Only we had to get out of there.

Now a few years ago I would have run out, phone clamped to my ear shouting “what do you mean she’s vomiting so much it’s like a Nanny Plum jelly flood? I’ll be right there” grimace at the dude on the door and run.

Not this time however. I am finally one of them there adults. I didn’t rush. I didn’t lie. I looked him straight in the eye and said “mate it’s too busy in here and the noise is doing my head in.” And left. He just looked on flabberghasted. Did I feel bad? Nope. It wasn’t like we were the only people in a bar full of tumbleweed, they were busy. Did I feel all smug that I’d done it rather than being all British and smiling and telling them how great it was despite dying slightly inside? Too bloody right. This of course wasn’t their fault. They want the place to be busy that’s the whole point, this was my personal opinion.

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It reminds me of the time back when I met my partner. He painted my house, a mutual friend of ours that worked with him kept telling me how “his butty was single” (if you’re not Welsh I’m NOT talking about his sandwich here) and how I should go out with him. I sniggered but eventually handed over my number. Which I found out years later he’d promptly chucked in the bin thinking his mate was joking.

We did eventually go on a date though to a local pub. It was lovely. For our 2nd date I got to choose where we went and I picked a local hotel that had a nice restaurant. I got dressed up and we went. Only the look on his face said it all as the guy at the door looked him up and down took my coat.

“This is a bit f**king fancy isn’t it?” he said as he eyed up the cutlery set up on the table. The tinkly piano music in the background. My brain started screaming ‘Oh God, I HAVE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE’.

‘How can I get out of this?’I started panicking. He hates it. It’s too posh. The b**tard is common as muck. Egg on his chips kind of guy. What the hell was I thinking?

“Right lets go” spills out of my mouth without meaning to. He nods. We get up. Half walk, half run to the door. I grab my coat. We shout “sorry gotta go” over our shoulders and leg it to the car.

Then drove to a Harvester instead. And we laughed and laughed. That’s how we knew we were meant to be.

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Getting A Teen Out Of Bed

Right now you may have little ones and be experiencing  5.30a.m morning wake ups and sit there wishing they ‘would just stay in bed and give you a lie in’. STOP. Karma will come around and kick you right up the bum when they turn into a teenager and you can’t get the sod out of bed for love nor money. Here are the stages of getting said teenager up that happen in our house. Insert Spongebob style ’10 minutes later’ between each one.

Stage 1

This is the stage where you’re still optimistic that today will be the day that they get up without the hassle. Pahahahahaha.You knock the door whilst steeling yourself for the stench, run in and shake them awake cheerily telling them if they get up now there’s plenty of time for shower, breakfast and a cuppa.

Stage2

10 minutes later you realise there is no movement going on upstairs and stomp back up in the hope that your heavy footsteps will get them shifting. Does it heck. They’re still lying there bleary eyed saying “what?”. Keep calm, they’re bound to get up soon, they’ll be worried about being late.Right?!

Stage 3
Now you’re getting your hair off, they’re taking the mickey. So you go up and threaten them that if you have to come up again you’ll be bringing a bucket of water. They sigh and moan “for god’s sake” under their breath. Yes, because obviously I’m doing this for fun. It’s the highlight of my day don’t you know?! I really don’t have anything better to do like sticking hot pokers in my eyes, the usual.

Stage 4

Right they’re still not up. So you realise it’s time to make good on your threat to throw water. You spend a few minutes looking for the bucket you bought the kids at the beach in the summer and when you remember they’re probably at the back of the shed with the false widows and tube webs you decide ‘sod that for a laugh’ and just grab the mop bucket, chuck the mouldy smelling mop across the kitchen in annoyance and fill it up. Drag the heavy sodding thing up the stairs only to find right at the last second the teen will magically launch themselves out of bed and shout “I was up, stop stressing” You fight the urge to drench the cheeky git anyway, grit your teeth muttering about ‘lazy bloody kids’ lug the bucket back downstairs and get ready to start fighting ‘get dressed and ready wars’ where they’ll race down the stairs – steady on- to shout about the favourite t-shirt/skinny jeans/trainers they can’t find and you’ve obviously moved. Believe me mate I wouldn’t touch your stinky clodhoppers if my life depended on it!

So honestly, if you are reading this bleary eyed at the crack of a sparrow’s fart then just remember it’ll come full circle in a few years time.

Are your teens like this too? Are you one of the lucky ones who’s teens get up without a fuss?

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Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

Wicked Wednesdays – 12th October

Haven’t joined in with Wicked Wednesdays from the lovely Em at BrummyMummyof2 in a while but it’s always been one of my faves.

“Oh how lovely there’s eldest’s old Thomas the Tank, let’s put some batteries in it, little lady will love it.”

BIG MISTAKE!

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