Mess

What is the point in tidying up when my son goes along behind me making new messes?
It's not even a losing battle it's more like I'm being slaughtered by the King of messapotamia.
Constantly.
Non-stop.
Never ending.

Mess!

The Latest Buzz.

I just love watching my son doing the activities to help Dora, Diego and the Little Einsteins.
He's so cute when he's doing things like running on the spot to help Dora catch something or when he's shouting "faster" or "higher" or whatever the hell he has to do. He gets so into it that he wouldn't even notice if a bomb went off right next to him.

I just love watching him be that involved it's just a shame I can't stand Dora or Diego.

*****

Marshall has chicken pox. He's covered in spots although so far he's not itchy or bratty, well, no more than normal anyway. The strange thing is over the last couple of days he has wet himself whether he just couldn't be bothered to go to the loo in time or if it's tied in with the chicken pox I don't know. He did tell nanny on the phone that his willy exploded although what he's describing I can't quite figure out. I did think it might be an explanation of ejaculation (god he's too young for that surely?) but there's been no sign of that & his pants are wet. It's urine thankfully. The explosion part is the bit I'm confused about. I'm hoping it's just because there's a spot or something near his willy and that's whats made weeing feel funny.

*****

I bought a pair of slippers, they were on sale and cost me £4.99, reduced from £14.99. Bargain, brilliant only..................................... you know what's coming don't you. They arrived today, 5 days later along with the new stock leaflet and sale bargains and they've been reduced further.

They're now £1.99. I paid £4.99.

I hate it when that happens.

*****

I watched the CSI VEGAS last night where Sara Sidle leaves, it was so sad I cried for half an hour. It was her goodbye letter that did it specially when she said he was her one and only.

Actors don't stay in shows like they used to nowadays and getting really into a character or that characters relationship is destined to lead to a crying session during an episode at some time.

Still, I'm sad she has left and hope she comes back and they have a happy ending even if it is tv land.

*****

I read in the Daily Star newspaper on Saturday that the latest government idea to pick on smokers is to force them to pay £10 every year for an I.D card so they can buy cigarettes.

The forms are going to be lengthy and involved so people will be persuaded to give up.

Cigarettes are legal so how can people need a special card, literally a licence to buy them?

They want to make a pint of lager / beer / cider £4 which is outraging all those people who thought that smokers having to go outside in the freezing cold for a smoke was funny.

What goes around comes around. They should have thought about how the govt was taking away peoples freedom to choose when they were riding roughshod over the smokers.

*****

Cheryl Cole has taken back and forgiven new husband Ashley for his cheating on her. What a wonderful role model! Why have these women no sense of self worth or self respect?

If Robin cheated on me he'd be out that door so bloody quick and I'd never, ever have him back.

How can he think anything of her or their marriage if he's willing to risk it all for a quick tumble?

But then, maybe he knew he would be safe because he is rich and she loves the lifestyle / money and will do whatever to keep it in her grasp.

He's On Fire

The childrens song goes "Liar, liar, pants on fire" and if it's true then all of my sons underwear must be charred cinders.

My son who I could always rely upon to tell me the truth even if it meant he got in trouble has now become addicted to telling lies. Big ones, little ones, any ones at all. Even ones for no apparant reason.

Just today (and this is only one example out of the twenty this afternoon alone) he took two bananas out of the kitchen, took them upstairs to the bathroom and "artistically" arranged them in the empty toilet roll tube.
Why I have no idea lol.
When I discovered his artistic endeavour and asked him why, he denied doing it at least twenty times and blamed it on the puppy.

Another example "have you seen daddy's car keys?" he says no umpteen times but they're in his toybox. He didn't put them there though. It was one of the usual suspects being:

* the puppy.
* ghost / monster.
* whichever parent isn't there.
* don't know, not me.

I know it's a phase, he's four years old after all I just hope it's a quick, passing one because I'm really having trouble dealing with this one. It hurts when my son lies to me, really hurts.

Gravity Is A Hairy Subject.

My son and I had a bath together, I generally try to bath him on his own or with daddy because he's four and I feel a bit funny sharing a bath with him now he's gotten older.
Anyway as soon as he got in the bath he crouched down and started to pee. I was in the bath and he peed in my lovely hot bubbly water. Not impressed I made him get out and use the toilet.
When he got back in he had to suffer a forceful lecture at how we use toilets for peeing and baths for washing.
When I had finished and stood up to get out the bath he started protesting that I was peeing in the bath.

I wasn't. Let me make that clear.

Now in that personal lady area so beloved my males and dogs once a month I'm not bald, there's no landing strip cos that would take time and effort to shave or money and pain to wax. The water runs down my body and drips of the hair. ok? You with me here? This is what my son saw and this is what he thinks was me peeing.

How do you explain gravity and pubic hair to a four year old?

The beauty of silence.

Oh the joys of having a little boy back to non-stop noise and by that I mean screaming, yelling, being a siren and repeating the same sentence 85096543 times in the exact same tone designed to grate on my ears.

He's been home from school around 8 hours now and I've had to go hide in the toilet so I could cry. I don't mean little delicate sobs more pulling my hair out, gut wrenching ones.
He is ignoring everything I say and doing what the hell he wants. He is mouthing me and arguing with me totally adamant that I am wrong / stupid / thick / cruel and most likely the most horrible mum to ever exist.

When he was ill I so wanted him to be better but I didn't mean to be well again and be nasty with it. It's like I've been given a devil-child, super strength mixed with a healthy dose of caffeine so he can go on and on and on.

It's nearly bedtime now, 30 minutes to go and thank god. My easily exhaustible and very limited supply of patience has run out.

Don't misunderstand me you people out there I'm not regretting being a mum and I certainly don't regret having my son. I just need to scream / rant / vent / complain at someone and it's you that has gotten lumbered.

I love him to bits really but tonight, bedtime can't come soon enough. For me if not for him.

He's Really Ill.

Well I've been suitably punished for my last post.

All my whinging and moaning about my sons illness / disease / bug / virus has come back to bite me right on my big, fat ass. How? Simple, my son really is ill!

It started a week ago with a temperature and what was obviously a yucky all-over feeling leading to night after night of poor, broken sleep accompanied by the loudest snoring I've ever heard. Then there was a marked loss of appetite, even chocolate didn't hold its usual attraction for him.

Then suddenly, he starts slurring his words sounding pretty much like a drunk or a diabetic who badly needs to raise their sugar levels (I'm not being disparaging I'm a diabetic). This started alarm bells ringing in my head so loud it drowned out everything else.

So many serious illnesses and conditions have slurred speech as a symptom.

Even the unlikeliest of conditions started to run through my head like Bells Palsey, strokes even Autism and once those worries start there's no stopping them as any mother knows only too well.

I phoned the doctor and after much shilly-shallying on their part I got them to send the doctor to my house.

3 hours later the doctor finally arrives.

She listens to his chest, front and back (she seemed to spend ages listening but I wasn't sure if it was just time passing slowly).

Finally she tells me that he has a chest infection and that she'll be giving him antibiotics, Amoxycillin, no less. It's meant to be banana flavoured but if bananas tasted like that then no-one would ever eat them.

She couldn't give any kind of opinion or advice on his slurred speech though as she hadn't heard it due to the fact he was too darn tired to pronounce anything.

Typical!

He's had one dose of the Amoxycillin tonight and is on 3 a day so if there's no improvement by Monday and his speech is stll slurred I'm going down the surgery and I'm not moving an inch till he's seen.

He's going to school on Monday morning mainly so the teachers can also hear his speech if it is still slurred. I'm rapidly approaching hyperdrive worrying and hearing the opinion of someone logical will help me not to be easily fobbed off by those fobbing masters, my family doctors.

Fingers crossed and best wishes for my poor little wounded soldier.

Thanks

24 Hour Blur

Why is my son only ill (at deaths door almost) at night?

I admit it what little patience / sympathy I have for the illnesses of others has been pretty much used up and all but gone.

Daytime consists of whines, moans, groans and enough bad behaviour for 100 children.

Night consists of coughs, splutters, snores, doing the Highland Fling and waking up constantly because he can't breath and more and more crying.

My days are passing by in a blur through lack of sleep, my nights are spent wishing I could sleep and checking to make sure he's still breathing.

Any illness or bug in a 100 mile radius will find my son, and through him, will get to me.

Does anyone else have a bug / virus / illness magnet for a child ?

One that creates muck, mess and chaos with every step ?

Titanic Thirst

Does anyone else's child drink so much they could sink the Titanic?

I hope so because if not then my son must be diabetic.

It could be greed I suppose.

The Untouchable Love Object.

I'm full of rage, anger, dislike and disappointment.

All this emotion is because of a 4 year old.

I feel like shaking some common sense into a 4 year old.

(for those worried about child abuse, I will never do this, I just feel like it.)

The reason for these feelings is:

There is a little girl in my sons preschool class that my son is madly and hopelessly in love with.
Yes, he's four years old but it doesn't make the feelings any less real to my son, it doesn't make the hurt of being rejected hurt any less.
This girl, I'll call her "C" as her name starts with a "C" is a lovely looking little girl with long, flowing blonde hair. I can understand why my son is infatuated with her and my son obviously has good taste because he has chosen the best looking girl in the class.

However,

My sons love is unrequited, she does not want to know in any way, shape or form. Her interest is in playing with the other girls, she has no interest in the boys not even my son who is not only the best looking (I've been told) but also one of the most popular (the teachers have told me).

So every night for the past week my son has had a nightmare involving Claudia and various other things from monsters to falling off a line trying to get to her.
He's woken up screaming and crying but not for mum or dad, he cries for Claudia the four year old blonde temptress who has no interest in my son or his love.

It's only an infatuation, I know but God, it hurts me deep down in my heart.
My son, my baby is growing up and away from me.
This is one more step in his independence, in his growing up, in his learning about the world and how it relates to him.
BUT
He's too young yet, he's still my baby, my little man.

Damn those unravelling apron strings, I need to tighten them immediately before he grows any more away from me.

The one where I discuss parties and cake (over and over and over).

It took me over two blooming hours to get my son to sleep tonight, I know the reason why but no explanations helped. His opinion was the right one, mine was wrong.
At any other time it would have been darn cute, but tonight all I wanted was to sit on the sofa, alone, and wallow in self pity for a while.

You see today is my birthday, I'm thirty-bloody-five, practically middle aged. I estimate that's about halfway through my lifespan. If I'm lucky.

Hubby got me a playboy bunny head shaped cushion which I'd wanted for ages. A proper one, not one of those fake ones but an original.
I had a fight with Marshall over it, he thought it was a new bedtime "nud" for him and couldn't understand that it was in fact mummy's. (a nud is a cushion, rather like a blankie. My son has 4, yes 4 of them).
According to my son any time anyone has a birthday it is his birthday also. There are 35 kids in his preschool so we have this conversation a lot.

I also got a cardigan which was a great idea because I'm always cold, freezing in fact. Marshall wasn't bothered that I had a new cardigan but then clothes just aren't as interesting as a new toy or nud.

Today I had the same few questions off Marshall all day. I'm not sure whether he forgot the answer or if he was just hoping the answer would be different this time but he must have asked each question at least 100 times.

"mum, when's the party?"
"mum, can I have the rabbit nud?"
"mum, when can I have some birthday cake?"
"mum, I want to go to the playcentre, it is my birthday"
"mum, is it time for the party yet?"

The questions are still going through my head, hours after he finally fell asleep. He didn't want to sleep because he thought he would miss the party and because he hadn't had any cake.

I can understand why he thought there must be something more, we didn't do anything special. I never even got dressed or stepped foot out of the door. So to him it must have seemed like there must be more.
I just told him that sometimes mummy's don't have big birthdays with lots of presents and a party because they need to give father christmas some money so he can buy lots of presents for the boys and girls in the world and I wanted that more than I wanted a party and cake.

He believed it.

I'm now a hero, a wonder-mum because I didn't have a party or cake just so other boys and girls could have a present from father christmas.
He's proud of me.............. but not as proud as I am of him.

The Amazingly Secretive Travelling ATM Card

I went to Tesco's today, I wanted to buy some foody bits and hopefully a warm jumper or cardi or something.
At the cashpoint outside the stores entrance I discover that my cashcard is missing, I have no idea where it is but I do remember it being on the coffee table.
So, as we walk away from the machine Marshall asks daddy if he can have a Happy meal at the next door McDonalds but of course we can't as I have no access to my money. Daddy tells my son that no he can't because mummy couldn't get any pennies out the cashpoint. Marshall says he can get some pennies for us and as me and daddy smile at the cuteness of the offer we traipse back to the car totally unladen with shopping.
Moneyless.

After the 25+ mile journey back home we are looking desperately for my cashcard to no avail. We lift up sofa cushions, sofas and various bits of detritus but no cashcard.......... then Marshall says

"Do you want to use my cashcard mummy?" and yes, he puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out my cashcard. The cash card that had been in his pocket at the cashpoint and while in Tesco's, the card he didn't think to mention till we have been on a 55-60 mile roundtrip.

Kids huh!

Chocolate Tears

My sons being naughty, major attitude and daddy has told him off and sent him to his room.
I know it's deserved.

But

The ear splitting decibels of my sons crying is breaking my heart.

I want to go to him, give him a big cuddle and give him the chocolate he so desperately wants.
I want to cry.

I wont go to him, it would just undo the discipline he sorely needs at the moment.

But why does it have to be so heart-breakingly hard?

My Son The British American

My son has a new bestest ever friend at preschool and although I have never met him or his parents I know three things about him already.

i. He is called Ben.
ii. He is American.
iii. He says "oh man" a lot.

Kids like to copy their friends and people they like so now my son, born in England, with two British parents who have never even been to America now has begun speaking with a strong American accent and I mean strong.

If something goes wrong for him or is "so like totally unfair" (lol) he will exclaim "oh man" but the "a" in man lasts almost forever and is said in an accent a hillbilly would be proud of.

The currency of England has apparantly changed to and instead of pounds and pence is now dollars and pence and no amount of correction will change this belief.

His bestest ever, favouritest food is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which incidently he has never eaten as it isn't something we eat here in the U.K.
I don't even know what the U.K equivalent of jelly is.
Here in the U.K jelly is that wibbly wobbly gelatinous dessert normally eaten with ice-cream.

Now I know much of the tv we watch in this house is American but he is usually in bed when those shows are on and although I have occasionally used an American term for something instead of the English such as subway instead of underground I do not speak American English but U.K English.

I guess I should be grateful that he's got a friend, a BFF, but hearing your child speak with an accent from another country, one millions of miles away is a bit unsettling although cute at times.

Devil Child vs Hopeless Authority

The Devil Child.

This week my little angel turned into the spawn of the devil.
A doppelganger has taken my sons place and left me with a child I do not know.
In just two days he subjected me to

• Screaming
• Kicking
• Cussing me
• Ignoring me
• Doing the opposite to what I say
• Refusing meals but happy to eat chocolate
• Telling me to shut up
• Running away from me
• Asking someone else when I’ve already told him “no”
• Drawing on the wall
• Drawing on the sofa
• Answering the phone
• Spitting at me

Where did this behaviour come from?

I’ve seen it before of course after all I’m his mum, I’m the one he usually directs it at, but I’ve never seen it all at the same time and worst of all is that he finds it funny.
When he sees he’s pushed me almost to the limit, he has a beaming grin and the heartiest chuckle I’ve ever heard.

It’s soul destroying, it’s destroyed what little belief I had in my parenting ability and any confidence I had in myself as a mother.

I know all about the terrible two's but the terrible fours is new to me and I really don't know how to deal with this. If time-outs, being sent to bed, explaining why the behaviour is wrong, punishments (taking away of toys etc) and even tears don't work then what is left?

Besides waiting for a miracle?

the one in which we discuss poo

A conversation about poo.

MARSHALL "mum I need a poo".

MUM "Ok, just go upstairs quietly cos daddy is asleep."

MARSHALL "I can't I might fart & it will be loud."


I ask you, what can you say to that?

King of clumsyland

Children are clumsy, it's a fact but my son dwells in the land of clumsy & he is their king. You have not seen or encountered clumsyness until you have seen or met my son. Incidentally he does not look like the image above with it's Hitleresque moustache.

If there is something on the floor he will tread in it or kick it over no matter how much floor space is free of obstacles he will trip on that one solitary bit.

He is even able to trip over nothing & bruise himself to hell in the process leaving me to look like an uncaring mother as I roll my eyes to heaven & grit my teeth or looking like an abusive mother as he's literally smothered in black & blue marks.

Today alone (it's 7 pm) he has fallen over twice, headbutted me once, dropped 2 drinks over the floor, stood on my feet three times & last but not least tripped over nothing & landed bottom first in a puddle. This is an average day & god help us all when he gets to be 5"10 & weighs over 10 stone, my poor feet cringe in agony just thinking about it.

I'm lucky though as this is just an overly clumsy child, he isn't suffering from dyspraxia & is in fact just bone bruisingly, painfully & irritatingly clumsy.

He will never win any prizes for gracefullness or dexterity but he'd win prizes for cuteness, being gorgeous & being loveable. He's my son & as clumsy as he may be I love him.

Wishing for reality.

When I was a teenager my one, deeply longed for desire or wish was to become a mother with a gorgeous son. I had no wishes for riches, material posessions or lifestyle all I wanted was to be a mum. This was a wish I kept to myself, I just couldn't see it ever happening, for me to have a baby would mean someone loving & liking me enough to marry me (my wish never included single parenting) & I had such a low opinion of myself I just couldn't see it ever happening so this wish I buried deep & pretended that I had next to no interest in motherhood ever.

In my early twenties I was told by the hospital that I would never become pregnant either naturally or by assissted methods like IVF, that I was basically infertile. This was a big blow as you may imagine but I just filed it away deep inside, hidden from everyone & life went on.

When I was 30, I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't believe my luck, it was just too good to be true & when the doctor told me my first words were "is the pregnancy ectopic?" I couldn't imagine this being true I was so sure the doctor was wrong & it was in fact a tumour or that I would miscarry. I just knew there was no real possibility of this being true for me, I'd wanted & wished for this for so long how could it possible be true?

But it was

I became a mum to a gorgeous little boy & on top of that miracle I didn't even feel any pain when I had my son nor afterwards (the joy of an emergency c-section). I didn't even need an aspirin!

My wishes now don't involve myself I want everything for my son. I want him to be happy & enjoy his life. Whatever he wishes for I wish for it too, more than anything in the world. He is my wish come true, it does happy so why not to him also?

I cannot say that motherhood has turned out to be like the visions I had in my dreams specially since they included a well-behaved little boy, no sleepless nights, a distinct lack of dirty nappies & no food refusals (my wish also included non noisy toys ha ha ha) but on the whole it has not only met but exceeded all my wishes.

Wishes can & do come true, I'm proof of this as is this photo of my little miracle.

Marshall's desired diet.

Coca-cola - regular & diet,
chocolate - all types & varieties,
baked beans - Heinz only,
chewits - strawberry flavour
strawberries - specially when out of season & therefore very expensive for very little.

These are the only things my son will eat happily & without complaint the only problem is finding recipes that use these ingredients!

Breakfast Food isn't always cereal or toast.

The scene:

Robin comes in from work after working all night.
It’s 7 am & before he goes to bed Robin decides to have one of those Rustler microwave burgers for his tea (I know really healthy!)
The ping of the microwave wakes Marshall up so he goes downstairs to watch tv, finds Robin sitting on the sofa with his burger & then………

MARSHALL “What you eating dad?”
ROBIN “My tea”
MARSHALL “Can I have some?”
ROBIN “No, because it’s got sauce on it”
MARSHALL “I don’t like sauce”
ROBIN “I know that’s why you’re not having any”
MARSHALL “But I want some, take the sauce off.”
ROBIN “You’re not having a burger for breakfast”
MARSHALL “You are”
ROBIN “No, this is my tea, I’ve been working all night”
MARSHALL “But I want some”
ROBIN “You can have toast or cereal”
MARSHALL “No, I want burger”
ROBIN “I said no it’s mine.
You do not have burger for breakfast
You eat breakfast food at breakfast”
MARSHALL “(big life is ending sigh)" runs to kitchen & returns with bar of chocolate bar


Suddenly a bit of burger doesn’t seem so bad.

Tomato Sauce? - I Guess Not

Conversation on "gourmet" cuisine.

Me Do you want tomato sauce on your dinner?

Marshall No, it will make me die, make me cough & poo will come out my bum.

Me OK then, no tomato sauce I don't want you to cough or die.