Category Archives: tantrums

I am Seriously Mum?

Posted in children, parenting, tantrums, wine by

Ok.
So I TRY very hard every day to “Always look on the bright side of life”.
I like to think I’m a pretty positive person, but sometimes people do stupid sh*t that makes me grumpy. 😈

Like today, while my friend and I are packing our kiddies into the cars in an EMPTY-BAR-ONE-OTHER-CAR-CAR-PARK and MRS. DUMBASS, driving a gorgeous jeep, decides that the other 80 spaces are no good, so pulls into the space BETWEEN OUR TWO CARS. 😐

She SEES the 4 children and the buggy, and that I’m just about to put the carseat into the car, but still parks so close to my car, that the car seat WILL NEVER fit throught the gap.

So, because I GENUINELY believe that most people don’t intend to be mean, and that sometimes they’re quite simply Numpties who don’t realise their lack of perception of personal space, I calmly waited for MRS. DUMBASS to realise her numptiness and move her big jeep.

She took out her phone and made a call. 😡😡😡

Because Mini-Me was right beside me, I didn’t swear. (HUGE ACHIEVEMENT.) 👏👏
INSTEAD, I said to my friend “I’m going to have to move the car to get the carseat in here. Can you please take the buggy for a moment?”
(Thism she definitely heard through the open window. It was probably the perfect example of how The Him says I THINK I’m being subtle, but I’m not being one tiny bit subtle.)

And that’s what I had to do.  I HAD TO MOVE MY CAR ABOUT A FOOT TO THE RIGHT in order to get the carseat in.

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I have a temper that can make grown men cry.

I COULD have knocked on MRS. DUMBASS’S window and asked her was she f**kin SERIOUS?
But.
I didn’t.
I set my baby in the car, said goodbye to my friend who was equally as flabberghasted as I was, and prepared to drive off, swearing in my own head.

MRS. DUMBASS got out of her car as if nothing had happened…

Because I’m determined to find positives in ALL situations, I did.

She was wearing nice trousers on her Dumbass. 👩🙆👖👖👖

They really were pretty and looked great on her dumb ass as she walked away from the big jeep that she COULDN’T PARK PROPERLY IN AN EMPTY CARPARK!

But she had nice trousers and is probably a very lovely Dumbass.
Now. 👄
Here’s a cute puppy to negate the negatives that may be misconceived in this rant…sorry, post.

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HAPPY Friday.😙😙
Pop…🍷

I am Soundtrack to her life Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, tantrums, toddlers, wine by

Sing like no one is listening…

Mini-Me has a habit.  It’s an adorable habit.
She sings a constant soundtrack to her life.

When she’s playing alone, she accounts her actions in random song, to random tunes.
“I am playing…into the kitchen. ..with the dolly…who is SLEEEEEEEEEPING!”

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It’s kind of like Will Ferrell as Buddy in Elf.
I love it.
Recently,  I’ve been impressed by her use of rhyme in these songs. 
“Will you have some tea Mary?  Some tea…with me…very!”

As a lover of musical theatre and Disney, you can just imagine how blissfully proud I am of her tendency to sing along to herself. 
So recently, her temper has taken a leap the whole way to Teenager level.  She could actually teach our 17 year old bloke how to throw a strop.
Imagine Chucky and Emily Rose had a baby…
You now know what I’m dealing with.

Yesterday, about ten minutes after a particularly frightening episode over my mistake of putting ham into her ham sandwich, she began her singing.

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I had been watching her, wondering how to deal with my generally sweet child who has found new levels of frustration to deal with, so I listened.

This was the key.  I’d listen to her because obviously she was expressing herself through song, unaware of the fact that she was giving me insight to her mind.  I’d soon figure out what is bothering her and causing the tantrums.
Supermum… feckin genius Woman!
And so.
She sings.

“I wuv my Mammeeee…”
Awwwww. She didn’t 5 minutes ago, but awwwwwww.

“And I wuv my Daddy….”
Bless.  Maybe she misses Daddy.

“Cos he’s a superhero who looks after me…”
Yes, he is. Come to think of it,  it’s almost time for him to come home. Which means I can have a glass of wine…

“And I wuv my baby sisterrrrrrrr”
HAH! See.  It’s not jealousy of the baby.  She loves her.  She just sang it straight from her subconscious. I knew it.

“And I am the best big si-i-i-i-ster in the worold…”
Nice key change there Mini-Me.  And yes, you are.

“And the sun is away behind the mountain….cos it’s nearly bedtime…”
How observant my child?

“And….MAAAAAAMMY!”

I almost fall off the stool.  I was so engrossed in the performance of her life, that I forgot that I wasn’t actually an audience member.
“Yes Sweetie?”

This was it.  Here was the moment where she’d say something profound and enlightening.  I’d suddenly make sense of EVERYTHING.  Psychology 101 eat your heart out…

“MAMMY?!”
“Yes pet?”

“I WANT A PET HIPPO”…

So there.
That was me told.
She sings because she likes to sing.
I need to listen because I like to listen.  Or sing along.  Whatever.

A car pulls up outside.
“There’s Daddy.  Ask him Honey.”
(Reaches for corkscrew…)

I am Soundtrack to her life Mum.
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I am Seven-ways-to-provoke-my-Threenager Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, tantrums, toddlers by

After a weekend of tantrums and death stares from the Threenager, I decided to write down the things that provoked meltdowns. 
When a friend asked what was up with her, I couldn’t actually pinpoint what had started it.  And so this blog began as an exercise to establish triggers that we could work on avoiding. 
My mission was to try to figure her out. 
My mission was to beat the strop.
My mission, as it turned out, was pretty darn impossible.

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It has however, been informative.  It has made me realise that Mini-Me is quite capable of losing the plot over the most ridiculous things ever. 
Here are just a few that we recorded since yesterday morning…

1.  I called her by her name. 
I kid you not.  Her answer was to scream at me “Don’t call me a THAAAAAAAT!” 
Silly Mammy.

2.  I asked her if she’d like some Brioche... 
Again, “Don’t call it Brioooooooche!”  I have a witness to this one.
Silly Mammy.

3.  I plaited her hair.
She asked for french plaits.  She stood still while I put two perfect plaits on each side of her head.  She even handed me the hair baubles.  Then, she looked in the mirror and screamed “I SAID PONEEEEEEE TAIL!!!” before pulling the pretty plaits out.  I almost cried.
Silly Mammy.

4. I couldn’t find the tiny piece of Blue tac that she insisted on bringing home from school last week.
She decided she “neeeeeeeded” her “best fwend Mr Bluuuutac.”  Cue 20 minutes of crying on the living room floor.
Silly Mammy.

5. There were bubbles in her milk.
Not much to be said here is there?

6.  I referred to her Baby Annabelle as a “Doll” and lifted it by the head…
Silly Mammy?
Seriously woman…

7. I didn’t drive around the roundabout…
Because I was turning left to go home.  But apparently, I should have gone “wound da woundabout!” 
Silly mammy.

You see the pattern?
Of course you don’t,  because THERE IS NO BLOODY PATTERN!!

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So what did I learn?

She is irrational.  She is illogical.  She is slightly crazy. She is completely unpredictable.   She is slightly terrifying.

And there’s no point in trying to figure her out, because if she’s going to throw a strop, it’ll happen regardless of my best intentions to thwart it.

Because she’s three.

And at those times when I want to tear my hair out and I feel like I am absolutely and utterly mental… it’s not me, it’s her!

I am Seven-ways-to-provoke-my-Threenager Mum

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I am Shake-a-bootay Mum

Posted in children, tantrums, toddlers by

On Saturday, I took Mini-Me on what was intended to be the perfect Mother & Daughter day out.
With the recent arrival of her Little Sister, some quality-time was badly needed.  As it turned out, it was more needed by Mummy than by Daughter.

The day was planned out in detail.  We’d been talking about it all week.

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We would go to the hairdresser, then to the shops.
Mini-Me would have sausages and chips; we’d collect the balloons for Princess’s Christening lunch.
Mummy would have coffee in her favourite coffee shop while Mini-Me would sip milk from a cute little milk bottle with a stripy straw.
We’d chitter and chatter, hold hands and skip from shop to shop.
It would be calm, relaxed and blissful.
We would take selfies that wouldn’t look out of place in a glossy mag.
Other mummies would look at us, in our matching coats, and think “Aaaawwww!”

And when it was over, we’d go home to Daddy and Princess and tell them all about Mammy and Mini-Me’s Day of Fun!

What actually happened was that a PMS-Crazed, sleep deprived Mummy took a post-chest-infection, over-tired Threenager into town…in the rain.

AND, there was a full moon…actually there were two.

Said Threenager began her tirade of strops and tantrums in the hairdresser. The angelic Hairdresser managed to trim her hair while I had mine blow-dried.  When she began to protest because she wasn’t allowed to take a toy home from the basket of distractions in the corner, I was hugely grateful that the hairdresser intervened before I had to. She received the quite terrifying dirty looks that only my daughter can throw, but as with all toddlers, fighting with a stranger is no fun, so she conceded.
Only slightly embarrassed, we left, with Mini-Me promising she’d be good for the rest of the day.

She did have sausage and chips… which she ate while glaring at me because I’d committed the crime of stealing a chip.  (I was actually making sure that they weren’t too hot.  Next time, I’ll let her find out for herself will I? NO.  I probably won’t.)

We went to collect the balloons, only to be told that the helium machine had broken before they started my order.   Having no balloons for the christening lunch REALLY wasn’t a drama.  Turns out… trying to leave the shop without balloons, really was a drama. Who knew?  (In hindsight, I’m quite proud that I didn’t give in and buy her a balloon.  Trust me…life would have been easier, but I couldn’t buy treats after the previous strops!)

I didn’t get the yummy coffee in my favourite cafe… their water was off.  Granted, it was a bigger problem for the establishment than for me, but still.  At this point, I imagined myself throwing a tantrum to see how she’d react.  I didn’t.   Instead, we went to a different cafe and I sipped on a crappy cappuccino.

I’d put crayons and a mini colouring pad into my handbag.  She should have coloured in happily while I enjoyed my cuppa.  The first crayon broke. The second one fell under the table and somehow disappeared.  The Threenager refused to drink her hot chocolate until I told her that that made me happy because I’d drink it after my coffee.
I got 30 seconds of quiet time while she made sure Mammy couldn’t have it…
She drank it in one go.

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I stared ahead, praying that the smell of the coffee would calm me down, cursing the full moon (I swear by this by the way!) and wondering if 4pm was too early to think about a glass of wine.

At this point, Hubby rang.  I should really have listened to him and gone home there and then, but I had to pop into one other shop to return a dress.
Big mistake.
Huge.

I was flicking through a rail of dresses to find my size.  Mini-me was at my side, humming to herself.
She stopped humming.
I glanced down to her.
Instead of her cheeky but adorable face, I saw her bare backside… wiggling in the air at me.
She sang “Shake-a-bootay! ” as she shook it.

Full moon.

Total eclipse.

I actually screamed.
My response was to pull up her tights and knickers and to fix her skirt, frantically whispering “You CANNOT do that!”
And then I left the shop, with Skinny Arse running behind me.  I kept walking until I reached the car.  All the while, Mini-Me was at my heels, repeating “Mammy? Mammy?”  She was undecided as to whether she should be crying or throwing a tantrum.  Her Threeness was suspicious of my lack of scolding.  I think she was experiencing that fear that we all remember from when we were kids and Mother gave us the look.

In reality, I was mortified.  I was annoyed that I’d taken my eyes off her long enough for her to commit the offence…and I was trying not to let her see me laughing!

As I strapped her in to her car seat, I asked her why she’d pulled down her tights in the shop.
Her answer?
“I just quite did.”
And that’s as good as I’m going to get.

We drove home.
It was getting dark.
There was a full moon.

Another one.
This time, in the sky.
And it turns out, it wasn’t too early to think about wine.
When Hubby heard about our lunar fiasco, he opened the bottle for me!

I am Shake-a-bootay Mum

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I am Swearing-Mum

Posted in children, parenting, swear words, tantrums by

Last night, my Mini-Me said her first proper swear word.

“Jeeeeeesus anyway,” she announced as she sat on the toilet.

Now, I know that children will copy what they hear, and I’m quite able to admit that I am no stranger to the odd expletive, but as a family, we do try not to use bad language in front of the kiddies.

Obviously, at some point, we’ve failed.

swearing kid

Not only did she pronounce “Jesus” quite beautifully; She used it in the same context that a grown up might.  She was frustrated (still no poopoo!). She was trying hard and getting nowhere.  She was exasperated and she knew exactly how to express it!

She also knew that it wouldn’t be acceptable, because those pretty blue eyes immediately darted to my face to see how I would react.  She was challenging Mammy.

We’ve been here before.  The first time she ventured into Bad-word-land was with “Shup-up”.  My reaction to that was an automatic scold.  “No!  We do not say Shut-up to Mammy.  That is not nice!”

The result? “Shuppy-up” is what she now reverts to if she wants to push Mummy’s patience.

This time, I was armed and ready. I did what any clever parent would do. I did the opposite of last time. I pretended it hadn’t happened and continued talking about Mr. Poopoo needing to go for a swim.

Not getting the reaction she wanted, she said it again…this time, more slowly and dramatic. (A born actress I tell you.)

“Jeeeeeeeeesush.”

This time, I decided to take the bait, but on my terms.

“Yes Honey! You saw Baby Jesus in the crib at Christmas! Aren’t you a clever girl?”

This wasn’t what she’d anticipated in her brilliant toddler mind, but it seemed to work.  She began to talk about Christmas and Santa and her pretty dress and her Christmas Tree.  And so, I thought I’d won.

cursing

I thought that I’d done well.  I thought I was clever. I thought I’d distracted her and had taught her how to use the word properly. I’d turned the word back into what it is, rather than allowing it the status of swear-word.

That ‘Supernanny‘ doll should move into my house to see how it’s done.  I have it.  I’m in charge.

Smug and quite delighted with myself, I carried on with my evening. Husband would be so proud of how I dealt with the situation.  I’d be admired by friends with toddlers when I told them how to deal with their little Darling’s attempts to use bad words.  I might even win a prize of some sort.  I’d start giving lectures to parents on “Expletives and Toddlers: how to survive.”

Then I woke up.

Princess was throwing a strop.  She pulled off her Elsa dress and was screaming about her Tinkerbell Dress.  Whatever she wanted, I obviously wasn’t doing it.  It was one of those tantrums that began over virtually nothing and resulted in fire-alarm pitch screaming and stomping. She stormed into the hall…and suddenly, all of my smugness dissappeared…

“BAAAABY JEEEEESUS ANYWAY!”

So, not only had I NOT dealt with this situation properly, I had given the little genius a way out.  A safe pass.  A golden ticket.  At only three years old, she had manipulated me and my words. What I’d actually done, was teach her how to use it, without getting into trouble.

I was gunked.  My jaw actually hit the floor.  I listened to hear if she’d say anything else.  She didn’t. She was waiting to hear my reaction.  She’s still waiting, because although I actually snorted with laughter, she didn’t hear me.  A few minutes later, she popped her pretty head around the corner. I carried on as if nothing had happened.

I know some people will be disgusted.  I know I shouldn’t have laughed.  I know it’s terrible that a child is able to use language like this.  But I also know, that sometimes, laughing is all we can do.

I’m not a psychologist.  I’m not a child specialist.  I’m not a genius.

I’m a mum.   I’m a mum who, once upon a time, thought smugly that my little girl would NEVER behave like that.  I’m a mum who is learning every single day. I’m a mum who will sometimes just laugh, because really, what other option do I have?

On a positive note, she’s learning. She’s testing boundaries.  She’s experimenting with language.  She’s establishing her little self in the grand scheme of things. And every day, I “Thank Jesus” that she can!

I am Swearing-Mum x

expletive