This is a guest post from the lovely Jade at The Parenting Jungle and is the first in my series of Monday Monologues (or Mumologues if you will!) If you would like to be a guest on the Monologue series just drop me a line or give me a tweet! You can check out my first monologue too if you like…
It is ten past seven. I was Tweeting, and it is ten minutes past bedtime. Whoops!
Buggeration. Put down the phone, ignore the fleeting wave of bad mother guilt, wait, no I didn’t press send. Must send DM. I’ll just pick up the phone quickly. Belly laugh upstairs at alcohol based tribal banter.
Oh what a hideous mess in Leo’s room! Ahh he’s is telling Spiderman that he has to have his leg amputated because the joker shot it. Do I need to start saving for a child therapist?
No, no, I’m sure it’s productive dramatic role play.
“Time to get ready for bed, tidy-up-timmmme”
I sound like an idiot, I wouldn’t listen to me, I have as much authority as a one legged cupboard sloth. Smile at child with both hope and encouragement.
“No and I don’t want to go to bed”
Glad I have brought up a child that respects his elders..Crap, he really needs to tidy up his own toys, it teaches responsibility and…who am I kidding I am going to do it because he will take ages and I want to watch Game of Thrones.
“Ok we will share jobs and mummy will be helpful. You go wash your face, brush your teeth and I will put the toys away.”
My child sounds like a put out teenage elephant when he stomps. Right, throw the toys in their boxes at record speed. Why the hell do we own so much stuff, do I really need to be this organised in my 5 years old’s bedroom, all I am teaching him is how to be OCD. Ouch I just kneeled on Spiderman. How do I make bumblebee transform back into a car..I need a degree in rocket science to do this…
Why am I humming row row row your boat manically?
I hate row row row your boat.
Right into the bathroom. Great half a tube of toothpaste squeezed into the sink. Has Leo has washed his hands. He says yes. Liar. Right, let’s wash them. Mmm, sticky and the water is brown *shudders* Try not to pull a disgusted face, always ends up looking like I have got wind.
“Good job baby.”
Oh so now he wants a book.
“Darling, we don’t have time for our story, you were too busy playing with your balls. I did ask and you said no book.”
I said that. I have just told my son he was playing with his balls. And I am smiling about it. I feel sorry for him in teenage years. If we don’t have a book every night will the parenting police come and get us? I really want to go have a cup of tea and I know how whingy he gets if he stays up past seven. I know how whingy I get without tea.
Ah, naked star jumps. Why can’t he put that energy into getting dressed? Right, lasso his jumper over his head and wrestle his coltish legs into the bottoms. They are backwards. Who is going to know? Just me, and I can live with that.
“No mummy the label is the wrong way.”
Tuck him in. I am glad I brought these sheets, NEXT material is decent..must buy more on sale, because I am cheap. Is he going to be too hot? Nope thermometer says is fine. Don’t panic you will give yourself palpitations again.
(Sing rock-a-bye-baby at his request)
I like pretending I am West end star. Shame singing hurts my ears.
“You sing beautiful mummy.”
I love you little boy.