Author: toughmotheruk

So my husband and kids arrive back tomorrow after spending three weeks away – mostly in New Zealand with my family (not counting the 60 quality hours travelling there and back!).

I wasn’t able to go due to work commitments and, I am not going to lie, the idea of some ‘quiet time’ at home was appealing. 

They seem to be having a fabulous time – scanning ewes, learning to ski, sledging (somewhat faster when you’re being towed by a motorbike).

I am also enjoying time connecting with friends. Getting outside to train. Working late without needing to worry about getting back. 

After they left, it took me about two days to sort through the chaos left behind and return some order. I even got a bit arty (for me), although the spare room was one step too far.

But it has been disconcerting walking into the house. A very quiet house. Where everything was where I left it. And stuff hasn’t bred into little (or big) piles to be sorted.

My mum used to always complain that our house was never tidy like the neighbours (their’s was ridiculously tidy. Their kids’ even put their toys away. Setting impossibly high standards – thanks for that!). 

My response was isn’t it good to have one that looked lived in (it usually didn’t prevent me from being press-ganged into cleaning frenzy).

I’m sure I’ll be telling myself that again soon…

Oh god. 

While it never made it out of drafts, I had wondered when it would change? When do the comments start in changing rooms? Usually the skinniest girl saying ‘I am so fat’, with the rush of reassurance ‘well if you are, …’ or was that just my experience?!

It was a bit tense in our household at the weekend. England were playing New Zealand in the World Cup final of the cricket.

The first time my husband and I watched sport together was, probably unsurprisingly, a rugby match. While we started sitting together in the middle of the sofa, within seven minutes we had migrated to opposite ends. 

This time we were prepared and staked our claims. However, there was a major tactical error. We had not made our children watch some of the earlier games so the storm of questions commenced…

What’s an over?
What’s bowling?
Why are there six balls in an over?Who is the wicket keeper?
What’s a duck? Is that the same as a golden duck?
Is a four better than one run? (patience hanging on by a thread with this one…)
Can I have a hug?

That one was as England needed two runs off the last ball. So, it was not an ideal time. Sudden uncontrolled movements can lead to injuries...

For all that, the kids got caught up in the drama. Along with the millions of other people who didn’t know cricket could be so exciting!

To the extent that my son was devastated when he realised England had won on a technicality (bless him for not claiming his English half at that point).

But (to misquote a quote I now can’t find) cricket was the winner on the day…

I was going to write about the kids losing their night lights but that was rather eclipsed by the recent conversation we had.

I had just been talking to a friend about puberty and how unprepared I am for it, when my daughter cornered me on the way home…

Somehow my son had claimed the front seat in the car, and I couldn’t kick up a fuss when my daughter, pleased, said we can have some girl time!

Five minutes down the road she found a tampon in my bag that she’d been rummaging through. Mum, what’s this?

My life passed before my eyes briefly,  but as there was no escape I plunged in. I noticed my husband turned down the radio as he tuned into the back seat. 

It is a bit of a haze but I remember where does it go (not your belly button), how long does it happen (a looong time), will you have more children (you bring so much joy already, how could there be room for more)…

At one point, my husband went to add to the conversation but he was closed down rapidly. “Girls talk Dad”.

I was relieved to move off the topic – until she decided to give me a phonics lesson. After the tenth go at trying to pronounce an ‘a’ as opposed to an ‘e’ or was it an ‘i’, I was ready for more birds and bees.

The other day, my daughter lost her eighth tooth. She’s now on the same number as her brother apparently. Who knew there could be competitive tooth loss?

The first night we all forgot to leave it out for the tooth fairy.

The second night, she carefully positioned it.

But the tooth fairy never arrived. Perhaps he or she didn’t get the memo about the delay… or thought it was a bit ironic following the Great Easter Bunny Discovery.

The third night almost went the same way. However, a light bulb moment meant my husband got a dig in the ribs just after drifting off to sleep.

Do you have a pound coin?

The answer was negative but he knew where the change was so he was nominated fairy.

That is, until he came creeping back into the room asking for some assistance. The tooth was on a shelf above said daughter’s head – which happens to be a few metres off the ground due to her platform bed. He didn’t like his chances of climbing on the bedside table without injuring him or it.

I scrambled up and made the trade.

I then looked over my shoulder and thought it was a great opportunity for a trust exercise, to elegantly fall into my husband’s arms…

or smack him in the face with my elbow, with him trying to hold in the expletives until out of waking up child range.

We had confirmed he didn’t need the tooth fairy when he disclosed that our daughter had asked him earlier that day whether the tooth fairy really did exist!

It was almost as painful as discovering the fairy actually left £1.20.

My son was particularly interested in the apparent inflation. It has currently been explained away as interest due to the delay. I am waiting for him to reveal a tooth that he lost a year ago…

On our epic adventure in New Zealand we decided to take the kids to see the magic of Fiordland. This involves a two hour bus ride there, a boat trip around Milford Sound, and then the return trip.

We walked into the tourist centre and a serious young girl immediately introduced herself, that she was eight, her sister, five, they were from Australia, some other fun facts about her family, and that they were going to Milford Sound too.

I in turn introduced her to my son.

The kids sat down the back of the bus and, as they were the same age, I think they attempted a “fact off” to establish the correct pecking order.

They covered:

Biology – what’s the deadliest animal?

Palaeontology – no, the biggest dinosaur was actually the …

Religion and literature – have you read Genesis? I don’t think it happened like that. I believe in evolution. My mum said the bible’s like a metaphor…

Oncology – my grandads both had tumours but not the same type…

Philosophy – what do you think happens when you die?

It was strange hearing some of our conversations being repeated. He really did listen!

The fact tennis seemed to go on for about an hour before they acknowledged stalemate and let the younger siblings get involved in the conversation!

So, with work in Sydney, my husband had the pleasure of transporting our kids home to the U.K. 

It went more smoothly than the trip out… no cancelled flights or missing bags. Only the odd mishap of spilled drinks and the challenge of navigating an airport for several hours with one child sound asleep and the other trying to negotiate a significant investment from the Lego store. 

However, there was a stumble at the final hurdle. 

As soon as my husband unlocked the front door, our daughter ran around the house to locate the Easter eggs delivered by E Bunny.

While I had vaguely contemplated buying some to put in position before we left, it had fallen down the list of priorities. We had purchased some eggs in NZ before departure, however the plan hadn’t extended to distracting the kids until a subtle location could be found. 

Thirty plus hours of travel was obviously not conducive to creative thinking. Nor, for my daughter, recovering from the devastation after my husband broke the news to her.

Apparently, my son already knew it was a myth. Which he helpfully pointed out his sister. Although, he wouldn’t say how he found out…

After a bit of excitement with our daughter’s passport, including a trip to New Zealand House the day we were leaving and 30 minutes waiting for the passport to be approved at check-in, we finally managed to take off from the U.K. to New Zealand recently.

People asked whether we were worried about the flight. Luckily the kids think up to 28 hours of movies is their idea of a good time. And once you are in the plane, there is no where to run so you just have to push on knowing that each minute is 60 seconds closer to your destination.

Other than the odd grumpy moment, we managed to hold it together through 12 hours to Singapore and 7 hours to Melbourne. To get off the plane to find that the flight to Queenstown was cancelled. No other information.

We also discovered there was no information desk in Melbourne terminal. With no number to contact, the only option was to traipse to the lounge and ensure the kids made lots of noise to encourage some speedy service. To those trying to read the paper, I am sorry.

It meant a flight to Auckland and then on to Queenstown.

My son pointed out that there was a direct flight from Singapore to Auckland and we could have gone on an A380. Helpful.

We discovered in Auckland that while we had made it, our bags, including our son’s favourite toy, hadn’t.

It was like standing on a precipice with a strong wind behind you.

However, we managed to talk my son down. No point being angry over what you can’t control. Helped by some frenetic running around and a trolley ride to the next terminal.

Sleep walking through the next flight and the two hour drive, there wasn’t a lot of energy for anything other than bed.

However, I was reminded of my own words two days later when I was trying to get clear information from the airline about the whereabouts of our bags.

My daughter said “I thought you only got cross with us!”

 

My daughter was given a magic set for Christmas. 225 amazing tricks to wow friends and family.

Both kids were very enthusiastic. They pulled out the foam bunnies ready to make them disappear. 

“It’s not disappearing.”

You have to read the instructions…

“What do you mean you have to do that? Doesn’t it just disappear?”

Uh, no. It’s illusion. You trick people into believing it’s disappeared...

The disappointment was acute. 

The poor magic set has been languishing in the corner since. I suspect it might have its time in a year or two once the scepticism starts kicking in?