I recently saw a piece on the internet entitled ’47 Ways To Enjoy Your Kids’. I can think of 47 ways I would like to tell the writer of that article how to shove it. I already know the best single way to enjoy my kids. To go on holidays without them.
So you don’t have to read the article and feel crap about yourself because apparently feeding, clothing, educating, cleaning and engaging with your children doesn’t mean shit unless you’re allowing them to paint your fences with sample pots of house paint and having family slumber parties in the living room every weekend (puh-lease!), I thought in retaliation I would write my own list entitled ’47 Ways To Enjoy Your Mum’. Here’s how that turned out.
1. When you’re getting your hair done, just sit there and let me do it. Every time you pull away and screech like a banshee, you’re just prolonging the agony. And P.S., if you brushed your own hair once in a while it wouldn’t be so knotty.
2. Eat your dinner. You like it. You’ve had it before. It wasn’t ‘yucky’ or ‘funny’ or ‘stingy’ last time. Just eat it.
3. Wipe your bum, flush the toilet, wash your hands. EVERY. TIME. These are not optional steps, ever, and it drives me mental that I’m still reminding you 2 years after you were toilet trained. And washing your hands means using actual soap, not just dangling your hands under running water.
4. Stop putting my phone on airplane mode. My phone is not your property, regardless of what you might think. I want it back. And by the way – I deleted all the pictures you took of your feet.
5. If you could drag yourself away from the episode of Sofia the First you’ve already seen 12 times this week to say hello to your grandparents on the phone, that would be delightful. If you actually willingly sat still enough to have an extended conversation with them on Skype, I would buy you a pony.
6. Put Barbie and her bits and pieces away when you’ve finished playing with them. If I impale my feet on another of those tiny, incredibly painful stilettos, I will not be held responsible for what happens to Barbie. Or you.
7. Remember those guinea pigs? The ones you hand picked and held for hours and fed and stroked and loved? You haven’t been near them for 3 weeks. Sort it out.
8. My car is not a mobile shoe cupboard. When you get out of the car, please take your shoes with you. And your toys, craft, drink bottles and crayons while you’re at it. The car looks like we live in it. And it looks like we’re hoarders.
9. I see you picking your nose. You’re doing it right in front of me. At least get a tissue. And no, ‘I’m not doing it, my finger is doing it without telling me!’ is not an acceptable excuse.
10. You know our once beautiful microsuede couch? It’s not a baby wipe. Or a blank canvas. So keep your grubby mitts, and your textas, away from it.
11. Don’t screw up your face and complain that I’m using an angry voice when I ask you to do something. I didn’t have an angry voice the first 16 times I asked you to do it.
12 – 47 Just. Go. Back. To. Sleep.
I know that no kids – or parents – are perfect. We’ve all got our own unique speed bumps along the way that test us. And I love my sometimes snotty, sticky, shoeless, finicky, evasive, messy kids.
Especially when I’m on holidays without them.