Archives for September 2010

Have you ever bribed your child?

Have you ever bribed your child to sit still and be quiet – I have.  In fact yesterday I spent more on iTunes than most record company moguls spend in a month.  Yes, I understand they don’t actually spend money on iTunes but you get my drift.

I think I have been paying for the ups and downs of being a very disorganised mother

Up

It’s school holidays

Down

It’s school holidays

Up

Little Pencil was going to a friend for the day and I was going to work

Down

Friend’s mum called to say they were busy in the morning

Up

I have the most flexible work arrangements in the universe so I could work from home in the morning and go in later in the day after dropping Little Pencil at his friend

Down

The friend called to say their arrangements had changed could we come in the morning.

Up

Either way was good for me
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Down

Little Pencil caught a tummy bug

Up

It was not very bad

Down

It was bad enough that he could not go to a friend’s house.  Not with my conscience clear.

Up

He could come to the office with me

So there I was at the office with a not very sick child, a lot of work to complete, an iTouch, a novel, not enough snacks and a very frayed mood.  Did I mention  that I am moving house at the end of the week?

My child is an angel, really he is.  But even angels are not so good at sitting in an office for hours on end.

And he tried so hard.  But every time I needed to move he moved with me; every time I needed to concentrate he read aloud to me; every time I needed it to be quiet he sang.  Every time I got cold he would open the door but every time I got warm he would insist on closing the door.  Every time I offered him something to eat he refused but as soon as I got involved in something else he would ask for food.  It was a nightmare and my nerves were frayed.

So I resorted to Bribery 101 and said he could download some apps for his iTouch.  I reckoned I was paying for some peace and quiet and I swatted away my feelings of being a very bad mother, a useless worker and a hideous multi tasker. I just knew that if he had “unlimited” access to downloads I would off the hook for hours.

He downloaded an app and immediately began to beg me to play monopoly on the iTouch.  He literally chased me around my own office with the screen of his iTouch glaring at me furiously.  What kind of cruel monster creates a monopoly application?

We left the office. And I remembered that I had forgotten to give him lunch.

This was the first day of holidays – today was worse.

The end is in sight

As my regular reader knows, I have been renovating.  Well not me actually – I have just been wringing my hands and suffering from tension headaches and a neck so stiff that I have to wear a rear view mirror on a visor to see what is happening behind me.

And now the renovation is nearly over. In fact it is so close to completion that I can almost smell it.  That could however be the smell of wet paint or wood glue or sadly even the compost they have laid over my lawn.  Yes, I have lawn.

It has been an exhausting process for my husband to project manage the build, work a more than full time job and console and placate me when I fall apart over the architrave choices and individual shutter slat sizes, but he has done it admirably and I am deeply in awe of the fact that he is only now falling apart – most men would have crumbled far earlier (particularly when we went over the over budget weeks ago) .  No that was not a typo – we went over the budget more than once.

It has been tedious for Little Pencil who has had to be witness to far to large a display of door handles and light switches for a child of such a tender age.

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It has obviously been a grueling time for the builders because, er they have been building everyday.

And I should be jumping for joy because I can see the finish line and it is shiny and new but all I can think of is the fact that I have to pack and move again.

Brattish much?

Does your child’s teacher think you are a good parent?

It’s been a long time between drinks.  Did someone say drinks? I need one

Last night was parent teacher interview at Little Pencil’s school.

There is nothing quite like having to appear in front of your child’s teacher in a tiny, uncomfortable  blue gray chair.  It is sort of like being summoned to the principal for a performance appraisal.  But worse – because it is not the principal, it’s your child’s teacher.  The person  who gets to spend all day with your child.  The same person  who hears all the things about your life that you try to pretend don’t happen, the same person  who sees what you pack for school lunch and who sees how inadequate you are at maths (this may be something that is exclusive to me).

So last night I sat before the women that teach my children.  I was nervous.  I had a tension headache and my shoulders felt like they were glued to my ears.  My tension was not around my son.  I know that he is doing beautifully at school, I know that he has friends, he is happy and academically he is blitzing it.

I was nervous because I always feel like the teachers are going to be judging me as a parent.  Deep in my heart I hope that this is not true, I even acknowledge that I may be neurotic.  But still there is a whole big part of me that is not deep in my heart that thinks that maybe, because the teachers spend so much time with my child they may think they know things about him that I don’t know.  Or worse, they may think I am a crap mother (you can substitute the word crap with over indulgent, neurotic, irritating, nagging, or even hopeless at math)

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I was a teacher before I was a mother.  I knew a lot about the children I taught – I just did not know them from the perspective of a parent.  I fear thought that I thought I knew (admittedly I was 22 years old when I was teaching so I thought I knew everything anyway).

Turns out all my neurosis was wasted – the teachers at Little Pencil’s school did not critique my parenting skills.  Hell, they hardly even spoke about me even when I tried to take the conversation there. They did say the most beautiful things about my magnificent child though.

I wish I could go back to being the teacher of the children I taught just for a minute – just to be the kind of teacher that Little Pencil’s teachers were last night.  They made me feel proud of my son and his achievements.  They made me feel like bursting with happiness when they told me of my son’s happiness and delight at learning and they made me feel delighted that I have chosen the school that I have for my Little Pencil.

They did not even mention the fact that I all too often pack a higher treat to food ratio than is acceptable for lunch and they did not once laugh at my inability to do math.

Not a happy camper

Little Pencil is on school camp and I am not a happy camper.  He is , I’m sure.  He is surrounded by friends and having a ball (I hope to God he is anyway – I don’t know because we are not allowed to phone the campsite 78 times a day for some reason I just can’t fathom)

I hate the fact that he is on camp.  I know  it’s good for him, I know he’s happy and excited and well taken care of.  I know that he’s probably not missing me and that he is having an amazing experience, I promise I do know that.  But it’s not about him. It’s about me – I am a wreck.

You see I am a control freak and a smothering mother – not a good combination when your only child goes on school camp

  • I hate the fact that I have no idea what his bed looks like
  • I miss his voice
  • I hate that fact that I don’t know if he is eating
  • I miss his laugh
  • I hate the fact that he can’t be contacted
  • I even miss his nagging
  • I hate the fact that I don’t know what his day entails
  • I miss his cuddles
  • I hate the fact that he is over an hour away from home (don’t laugh – I am feeling sensitive)
  • I miss his persistent chatter
  • The dog is a right off – he’s so confused I can’t get him off Little Pencil’s bed

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But it’s only two days and so I am trying to think about all the good things

  • I don’t miss cooking dinner
  • It’s only two nights
  • I don’t miss packing school lunch
  • I get to bath for two uniterruped hours if I like

Nah, it’s not working – I miss him.

Call me over protective, call me neurotic but please don’t call me till Friday I’ll be sulking until then