GUYS! put your school uniform in the wash before your bath please!
GUYS! put your school uniform in the wash before your bath please!
On this special day I want to thank all of you that read my ramblings, and wish you, your nearest and your dearest, a very Merry Christmas!
For me and the cubs, I’m grateful that our story continues. I buried the hatchet and invited the ex over to stay, giving her the opportunity to wake up with them and open presents.
Peace is restored. Or it will be when she leaves… 😉
Merry Christmas all xx
I’ve been quiet. I’m sorry.
The rules have changed and I’m in the process of seeking legal help.
Whilst there’s no good time to do this, now is a really bad time.
It’s also necessary.
When I have the energy I’ll write about it as objectively as I can.
Whilst I’m emoted and have a taste of fire in my mouth, the keyboard stays silent.
Every day, find a reason to smile; counting your blessings is the best way.
I’d heard about people doing this before and had cringed at the mere thought.
I saw it happen in a tv show; it was awful; truly, truly awful.
Now I’ve done it, I can confirm that the reality is just as bad.
Yesterday I was at a Christening of a long-time friend. His daughter has had her first child, and has asked me to be Godfather. I’m so pleased and honoured that I’m writing about it soon.
At the after celebration, it was a chance to catchup with friends I hadn’t seen in a while.
The wife of a guy I used to work with was standing to one side, wearing a gorgeous maxi dress and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. I smiled at her, she smiled back. I then tilted me head, and adopted a curious look.
I made my way over, expression fixed.
Oooh I say, something I should know? I asked.. she looked puzzled.
Are congratulations in order? I asked.
‘Oh right!’ she said, catching on…
‘No; just too much pizza and pie over the summer’
Now I’m on Ebay looking for a time machine.
Waking my son up this morning by waving his toy lightsaber (with sound effects) around, saying in a deep voice:
I AM DAD VADER; I AM YOUR FATHER!
whilst it made whooshing sounds.
ps, he didn’t bat an eyelid.
pps, nor at the age of 4 did he have a clue what I was on about.
It’s been a busy year so far. I’ve taken a lot on and although it feels good, I’ve become stuck.
Two things have struck me recently;
Firstly, it’s nearly Christmas. I’ve got to prepare and this year has flown.
Secondly, in 15 years, I’ll be 60. This thought was bought on by a tweet about Angela Bassett (60) at an award ceremony.
That’s just the way my mind works.
The first 8 years of my eldest cub’s life have shot by which brings my mind to the passage of time, and how I could be wasting it.
Or at least not making ‘enough’ progress.
That voice is back.
‘Surely I should be there now, rather than where I actually am, here’
The internal coach. Eternal critic.
This time, I have an answer. Where I am now, is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
It’s easy to listen to this critic who will make you forget just how far you’ve come, both personally and professionally.
I’m learning two new skills. They’re big skills that can’t be rushed, but at the grand age of 45, I’m restless. Both skills have ground to a halt; one financially, one technically.
Again, the critic inside thinks I should be further forward.
That is, until I look back 12 months and see that then me, and now me, are strangers. If now me had told then me where I’d be now, it would appear a tale of pure fallacy.
So I take a breath and a break, and relax.
I’m writing this on a windy hilltop, enjoying the sunset. And smiling.
Angela Bassett looked amazing, by the way.
I taught my boy a tough lesson today and it almost broke me.
Youngest cub has now joined his sister at big school. The change in educational level has done wonders for him. His language has come along in leaps and bounds and so has his interpersonal behaviour.
He’s not the finished article yet and at 4, neither should he be.
We do have some challenges. He gets frustrated easily and when he does, he can lose it quite badly. Foot stamping, screaming and saying no to everything.
On Saturday, I had said that we’d finish the day with a trip to the park but this had to follow him cleaning up his room. His sister will maintain her’s on a regular basis, but he plain and flatly refuses, or states that he can’t do it without help.
Again, given his age I don’t expect much, just a token effort.
At times I help him, at other times I get on with other aspects of housework to show them what is required to maintain a home.
As he’s grown, we quickly (and sadly) moved from the response to the tidy your room request of ‘No thank you!’ to plain and flat ‘no’.
We never made the park.
As I had no wish to punish his sister, I told them both that we’d go after breakfast the next day.
Next morning, after a hefty porridging, they headed for the bathroom. A quick wash and then out, was the plan.
All went south after hair washing. Water in his eyes was too much to bear and foot stamping began. Followed by screaming, and then kicking his sister.
At 4 years old, he seems to be experiencing the terrible 2’s.
I won’t stand for kicking so tell him he’ll lose a star. ‘I DON’T CARE!!!’ he screams, and kicks out again.
I pick him out of the bath. He screams and stamps. I ask him to apologise to his sister. He’s in full flap and now cyclically repeats that he’s not listening to me and he never will.
Admittedly, I can feel my blood pressure rising, so I decide to remove myself from the situation. I leave him dry, but naked.
Eldest cub gets ready and I shave and brush my teeth. She does her hair, which takes a while. He eventually stops screaming and comes in to my room. I’m now reading and pay him no attention.
He climbs on the bed next to me and slowly attempts to capture my gaze. I change position away from him. His sister declares that she’s ready.
Right; let’s go downstairs.
‘Dad! I’m not dressed yet…’
I walk down the stairs, telling her to put her shoes on.
In his nakedness he’s smiling and laughing as we get ready. He asks me a few questions, which ignore.
He persists. I stand firm.
His sister opens the back door and heads into the garden. Still in a state of undress, he puts his coat on.
I walk away from him and step into the garden. He screams…
I stop and go back.
I bend down and hold him tight.
We have conversation about what it feels like to be ignored; I do my best to keep it simple. He says he understands.
His sister, a witness to the entire charade, comments on my ability to maintain the ruse.
As I said; I don’t believe in striking a child but I do believe in discipline.
I’m not sure if what I did was any better.
‘If you fought the Queen, who would win?’
Just your average morning in my household, and my daughter doesn’t disappoint.
Youngest cub has a favourite toy.
It’s a radio controlled car that my brother-in-law bought him for Christmas.
He loves it.
The car is a 4×4, flippable, 360 thing that works whichever way up it is and can climb a multitude of obstacles.
We go through batteries like they were going out of fashion until I bought rechargeables, fearing that we may single-handedly destroy the planet. I didn’t want that on my conscience.
It’s really is rather good. That good, that big sister quite fancies having one.
I consulted Amazon.
Found it, or should I say, them.
Of the same theme but different sizes, colours and shapes. Result.
Then I found this one….
So unless it’s got pink wheels and has ‘girly’ patterns, females won’t be interested?
I call bull.
My daughter just wanted an orange one.
Ps. clicking the above clicks will generate affiliate fees and may go someway to overcoming my anger towards blatant gender stereotyping and other bull. Thanks.
“So dad; what’s your favourite story? I like Fox in Socks!
Jack the Giant Killer
“So what’s that about then?”
Ps, yes, I know the title has nothing to do with the story whatsoever