I am guilty about a family tradition passed down from Mother to Mother at this time of year – the task of absorbing some Easter egg calories so your children don’t have to.
Easter is a bad time for women who have a weakness for chocolate (and are trying to remain/return to sugar free). If you have children it’s even worse. Eggs, chocolate bunnies, sweets, cakes (helped by a birthday party thrown in for good measure) are all sitting in the kitchen saying ‘eat me’. Cadburys chocolate are the worst, I can consume a small Chocolate egg in seconds. Today I ‘helped out’ baby boy with his chocolate buttons egg – I had the egg and he had the bag of buttons – I was taking the brunt of the calorific hit to retain my son’s health ( well that’s what I kept telling myself). I then felt so guilty I wanted to run a mile in shrink wrap before it had a chance to adhere to my hips…
My Mum did the same thing. In fact when I was older I had to hide the eggs so my Num couldn’t get to them. In an effort to save us both she put them in the bin one year. Then later that night retrieved them out of the bin…..it was a new all time low but resistance was futile.
If you go back another generation, my granny was nearly 20 stone …..gulp….you can understand why we are trying to resist – a good metabolism is not in the genes….
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The worst thing about being a Mum is the amount of bossiness and judicial involvement required to try and maintain a remotely civilised household. I sometimes fantasise about kicking back with a big fat cigar in my mouth in a massive armchair (the type that massages your whole body) and saying to the children ‘Do your worst’ with a smile that would rival Hannibal’s from the A team. What would be the worse that could happen?
I’m thinking along the lines of William Golding’s The Lord of The Flies, culminating in a ritual where I am held aloft as my children chant ‘kill the pig, cut her throat’. Then London riot version 2: out in the country, would commence.
Or I might be pleasantly surprised…. how bad would they let their rooms get before thinking ‘perhaps I better tidy up’? Would they start to think twice about chucking milk on the floor and upending a plate full of crumbs once they realised they would have to clean the mess up themselves. Would baby boy finally develop a self-preservation instinct or would he accidentally kill himself without me catching him or shouting ‘no’ for the hundredth time.
I am not naturally a bossy person and I am not that keen at taking charge so that bit of motherhood I find hard but nethertheless I have to do it for the sake of society…..
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Now I am nearly a stay at home mum, i am thinking of what i can do to increase exercise with baby boy tagging along.
I have already tried interval running, which involves me pushing baby boy in the buggy (not one of those expensive jogging buggies, just my bog standard mclaren). I run and push for 1 minute, then walk for 2, although baby boy makes a good personal trainer, nagging me as soon as his buggy slows down.
I have been powerhooping once a week, with baby boy sat in the buggy in the corner of our village hall passing quiet judgement on us ladies spinning around. He even joins in for the stretching bit.
So with a bit more spare time, i am going to embark on ‘boot camp’. This concept has been popular for some time but i have yet to give it a go. Like most people, i will do more if pushed so figure it will be a good, if slightly painful experience. The boot camp lady will also let you bring your child, but quite what they do while you are being put through your paces is a mystery. I did notice at the school summer fair that the pre-schoolers of boot camp mums did do particularly well in the under fives race. So watch this space…..
This blog is for Unicef.
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My son pooed his pants again today. For me it was one poo too many and he got a firm slap on the bottom and was sent straight to bed with no book. I am at my wits end with this potty training malarkey, particularly as he has days and weeks when he doesn’t put a foot wrong then suddenly he has accidents all over the place. He is only 2 and a half and i have been told that this is typical for boys. It doesn’t make accidents any less palatable and stretches my motherhood patience to the max.
I think that is one of the biggest challenges as a parent, the ability to be patient in perpetuity. However, everyone has to draw a line somewhere and too often i see incidents when no line has been drawn creating an exhausting situation where the parent is at their wits end, while their child continues to misbehave. This was a common problem in the programme Mr Drew’s School for Boys, an example of what happens if bad behaviour continues unchecked.
It is constant, like correcting the course of a sail-boat on a windy day. My daughter was awful on Thursday, grumpy, sulky, whiney and not talking politely to either myself or anyone else, so i talked it over with her that night, discussed what she could have done better then the following day she was brilliant. But today, the bad behaviour returned so I had to call time -out again and then have another discussion about how she could have handled the situation better (ie not punching me when she needed my attention while i was talking to someone). I explained to her that i needed to finish my conversation before i followed Daddy’s request (he was waiting for me and my daughter felt under pressure so she threw me some mini punches).
So i have one child who needs constant reminders about toilets and another requiring training on how to behave around other people and how her actions and behaviour are perceived by others.
Motherhood is like life, you have got to take he rough with the smooth. Thankfully for every poo-ridden, grumpy moment there are 100 moments that if you could you would record to playback when they are grown-up and you are old. One of my biggest fears is that those times will pass too quick for my memory.
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