The children and Dog were in a peculiar mood this morning. I blame the wind. When we got up the windows were rattling and breakfast was eaten against the backdrop of trees thrashing themselves about outside.
Dog was off her head. After a year of training her to stop jumping up, which had been pretty successful, she seemed to have forgotten everything she had learned and was determinedly levitating herself upward to get attention. She’s also been doing this weird yodeling thing all day.
She bought us balls, chews and cushions before sitting amongst her treasures and fixing us with a bright and intense gaze. Such was the urgency of her expression I felt she was trying to tell us some children had fallen down a well and she was getting increasingly frustrated we weren’t understanding her message.
She then disgraced herself.
To be fair, I have told my children a hundred times not to leave their half-empty cereal bowls on the sitting room coffee table, so it wasn’t really Dog’s fault that her energetically wagging tail knocked two bowls flying across the room, scattering milk and crusty cornflakes all over the cream carpet.
Whilst cleaning up I was accompanied by the increasing shrill ‘It’s not fair!’ complaint from Son. The night before I had gone to his bedroom to take in his phone. He said he still had five minutes left so I told him to bring it to me in five minutes saying if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have his phone for the whole of the next day.
Half an hour passed with no Son appearing with phone, so, ‘Right!’ I said. ‘That’s IT! No phone tomorrow!’ I told Rob.
This morning not only has Son taken his phone from my bag, he is playing with it in his room instead of putting on his uniform. Livid, I take it from him and remind him he can’t have it all day.
Cue twenty minutes of an intense, unrelenting, carefully constructed and fluently argued monologue on how I favoured Daughter over him and Daughter was always naughty and wouldn’t do as she was told (true).
He even used the point that he was dyslexic and he can’t help forgetting that he had to bring in his phone. Eventually Rob lost patience and made Son leave our bedroom as we were getting ready. We dressed without speaking, trying to ignore Son’s continued diatribe being yelled through the keyhole.
Daughter, in the meantime, having finally deigned to start pulling on some tights seeing as how we had to leave in two minutes, is priggishly informing Son that he needs to ‘get over it’ and ‘Mummy isn’t listening anyway.’
When I dropped them off this morning Son, who hadn’t spoken the whole way as I refused to talk about ‘the phone incident’ (I said I was happy to discuss any other topic), jumped out of the car and just before shutting the door said, ‘I wish I could get a different Mum.’
OH! My heart!
The trouble is, and I hate to say this, my children are as bad as each other but it is easier to punish son as he is obsessed with his phone and PS4. If he’s naughty I can limit his access to these devices; it is an effective way to bring him into line.
Daughter doesn’t give a monkey’s about anything. There is nothing I can threaten her with that makes a jot of difference. Rob thinks her insistence on lying on the floor wrapped in her duvet talking to Dog until five minutes before leaving time is a controlling thing. What do you think? And how on earth do I get her to do as she is told!
Every morning is a shouting match and I feel guilty as it easier to punish Son in an obvious way but I don’t want him to feel I am favouring Daughter as I really do see them both equally. (Equally irritating – ha! But also lovable etc)
Rob and I have talked about saying to daughter,’we are leaving at 10 to. If you’re not ready then you miss school. We are not going to shout at you or cajole you, we will just wake you up in the morning and then you sort yourself out.’
Do you think this is worth trying? What if she calls my bluff!? (She is perfectly capable of it, she has a will of iron that reminds me uncomfortably of my grandmother and she’s still only 9)
My lovely American friend uses the 3…2…1… technique and I once asked her what she did when she got to 0 and they hadn’t done as she had asked. She looked at me in amazement, ‘they’ve never not done it!’ she replied. Oh dear, it happens to me all the time.
The other rubbish thing that happened today was the death of one of my favourite bras. Sob! Yes, as I got dressed this morning I discovered…
I’m heartbroken! Stupid underwire break out. Does anyone know if this can be cured? Is it terminal? I always spend weeks shoving the wire back into its sleeve when I put the bra on, then spend the day suffering the agony of it emerging and driving itself into the side of my boob. Stitching it doesn’t seem to work either. Any ideas?
On a positive note, I was given an early birthday present.
It’s the most beautiful blue scarf which has these lovely lighter panels which give it a wonderful lift. I think it goes brilliantly with my cashmere – such-a-pale-grey-it’s-almost-white – cashmere jumper from The White Company. I found the jumper in last year’s sale and have worn it loads. It works over jeans, with a suit and over a skirt. It is also lovely and warm and soft. They still have similar ones on their website.
Sorry today’s post is a bit of a problem page! But I know there are some wise people out there and any thoughts you have would be hugely appreciated! 🙂
Yodeling Dog trying to get my attention…
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