Author: toughmotheruk

Sometimes as a parent you need to cover big issues. Other times, you really don’t.

This was the case the other day when I had a conversation with my 13 year old son about how to close a door quietly.

This was after several mornings of early awakenings by doors being closed loudly, multiple times. More effectively waking the rest of the household than an alarm clock.

It’s probably particularly acute as I can still very clearly hear my mum’s voice in my head saying “come back and close the door quietly”, said whenever there was even a hint of a slam when I was growing up. She had to use this often with the 20 odd years of teenagers in the house!

So my son and I talked through the options…

1. Not closing the door all the way (although as he pointed out this risked disturbing us anyway),

2. Staying in his room until a reasonable time (I may be regretting this one in a few years),

3. Actually using the handle to quietly close the door (accompanied by a demonstration).

There is a fourth option of taping the snib closed but I’m saving that…

It’s early days, so hard to tell if the lesson has stuck, but my husband reminded me that I’d had to teach him this when we first started living together. So it could be seen as a skill for life …

or it could just be me…

For Christmas this year, the kids got a SodaStream. It was perhaps also a present to self…

We had one when I was growing up – it was orange and white and lived in the “Cake-tin Cupboard”. That might have been the best cupboard in the house as my mother used to bake at least three times a week, so the tins were usually full…. The rule was only three pieces for afternoon tea but it was very loosely policed!

Although this was closely rivalled by the “Lolly Cupboard” (kiwi-ish for sweets), which mum kept well stocked. I suspect this was mainly to keep us kids motivated given the closest dairy (corner shop) was not just around the corner but 20kms (and perhaps so she could enjoy a moment of quiet too).

The SodaStream was reserved for Sunday lunch, which usually consisted of a roast my dad made while us kids went out to do any farmwork after church. Sometimes it also came out after a particularly hot day – provided we had worked hard enough!

Best of all, you had to keep pushing the gas until it burped. Which kid wouldn’t love that?

I never thought my own children would be asking for one circa 30 years later!

It was cool to see it bring similar joy… although the ‘healthy’ flavours weren’t the most popular choice and the burp feature isn’t a thing anymore!

We seem to have developed a Christmas tradition in our household.

We can’t get the Christmas tree and successfully decorate it in one day. Someone seems to have a meltdown, it all turns to custard, and we have to come back to it the next day so there is some semblance of joy, not just yoj.

It’s ridiculous but there it is.

Obviously the anticipation doesn’t help – no one is allowed to talk about Christmas until after my birthday… my daughter even asked recently whether I’d consider moving it (that was a no).

But I think I have pinpointed the real problem.

Tidying.

In order to get the tree in place, we first need to tidy. Which to be honest, isn’t a strength in our household. 

So my cunning plan is have them tidy in advance of my birthday instead.

Now I just need to wait a year to see if that helps!

My son came into see me the other day while I was working. It went something like…

Mum, I’ve been selected for a great offer, but I need to make a decision quick!

Oh?

Yes, I can get paid for watching YouTube!

(Who wouldn’t want to get paid for that?)

Sure enough, he was one of 20 selected, and there was a count down clock. Worth a bit more scrolling…

They were after a debit or credit card, because it turns out you’d have to pay to get paid. When I pointed out that’s not the usual way money flows when you do work, he got a bit thoughtful but still wasn’t sure.

So we looked at the comments – all six of them that all seemed to be made in the last 30 minutes. 

We did a quick google and couldn’t seem to find the companies being mentioned… until we checked the company plus scam, when hits came up straightaway.

Unfortunately, no such thing as getting rich easily… he was slightly appeased when I explained that I’m now of an age that is more likely to get targeted for romance scams than get-rich-quick ones.

When I mentioned the offer to his younger sister, to get the full benefit of the parenting moment, she just shrugged and said that was obviously a scam as she walked away….

Or should that be an official measure up?

They don’t quite roll off the tongue like a weigh-in though…

Getting to the point, we have an official measuring wall to capture the various heights of kids (as well as us).

This did lead to problems when we moved. I think my husband transposed the various heights onto a plank of wood… that turned out to be part of the base of the bed… which was given to a friend.

Undeterred, a new wall has been found.

Somehow I managed to grow an extra centimetre. 

But I have well and truly been overtaken by my son. I’d hoped he’d at least get to 13 before this occurred. I realise this sounds a bit ridiculous, but it seems like quite a milestone when your little person all of a sudden becomes a bigger-than-me person.

I knew I was on a slippery slope when he started putting his arm around my shoulders. I well and truly entered denial when I suggested we didn’t need an official measurement until his birthday.

Which was clearly highlighted when I received the photo of the unofficial measure, where the only way he was shorter than me was when using a banana as the levelling tool…!

Now he’s reached 13, you’ll be relieved to know the official height-in has occurred, and we have all moved on (no more up for me!).

The dictionary says Spanish for opportunity or chance.

It was also shamelessly appropriated by my husband to brand a day out in Madrid after we’d been stuck due to the UK air traffic issues.

What was going to be a two hour stop-over turned into an exercise in patience as no one really knew what was going on. Bags had to be reclaimed (or at least those that could be found) and queues queued in while determining which queue was the right one to obtain some information, while simultaneously checking websites and phone lines.

We waited with bated breathe when the latter changed from not connecting at all to a recorded message saying they were experiencing high call volumes… and to try back later!

It was also one of those moments when you appreciate how much the kids had grown up as we all managed to keep it together with minimal moaning. Obviously, aided by Wi-Fi, enabling fairly unlimited access to devices (with the only potential panic while a charging point was found), and a promise of McDonalds.

The next morning, my husband tried to convince the kids that having longer in Madrid was a great opportunity to explore and hang out with him. It was a hard sell until they realised that this included some shopping and the Lego store… and me taking one for the team and rejoining the queue after being informed by the hotel that there was no room at the inn unless we were picking up the tab directly… and the transfer to the airport was leaving in 2 minutes!

However, there was no complaining when the “oportunidad” was cut short as a flight was found departing in a few hours. It was a wee bit tense as they diverted to the hotel, grabbed the bags, and made it to the airport… to discover that they hadn’t had lunch.

Luckily, an emergency Kit Kat during check-in and a refuelling stop after security meant we all made it.

I haven’t seen as much excitement to land into a rainy, grey, cold England day… ever!

Tomorrow my daughter finishes primary school. 

That feels weird.

As they say, it doesn’t seem that long ago that her brother was wiping her nose on her first day of school.

Now of course, they would deny that they actually like each other, cos that’s not very cool.

I think that means I am going to have to schedule a different time to talk to her as we won’t have the walk to school any more!

It’s been a wee bit of a rollercoaster – now it’s full steam ahead to the next stage.

Just have to survive the last day!

We had a car journey recently where the iPads had been left at home for once. At one point, my daughter observed that we (I think she meant the parents) were actually quite funny. It’s obviously only taken 10 years to come to that realisation…

This was after a very illuminating conversation about Minecraft. For my mum and dad, that’s a computer game that’s a bit like digital Lego.

My son had just signed up to something that allowed his friends to join him virtually in his world. It then turns out that he was having to enforce the ‘rules’ of the world. When asked how you do that, he explained the only option is to kill the rule breaker.

My husband then observed that it sounded very similar to a dictator, who takes harsh steps to enforce their authority, and that he’d have to be thoughtful about not hurting people’s feelings. 

At that point, our daughter piped up to say otherwise he’d be a dick-tater!

A quick google search confirmed that is in fact not the origin of the word, just a coincidence…?

From there we got into how the (Minecraft) world works. 

Apparently, you need villagers to do stuff for you. 

To get villagers you have to cure zombies (by throwing them an apple), building a bedroom, putting two in there and throwing them some bread (recurring theme here?), so they then create love particles… which turn into children.

Exactly how my son and daughter were born of course, so no need for further explanations there! 

Queue 🤮 from the kids!

My son (12) recently arranged a meet up with his ‘bus buddies’. It started off with ‘mum, do you think it would be alright if…’

While that lead in isn’t itself unusual, this was the first time there was no parental involvement in logistics at all.

This meant details were very vague.

Oh, we’re meeting at the shop around 4.45 on Sunday.

What time does it close?

I’ll look that up…

This wasn’t helped on the day by us deciding to visit family and his phone having a flat battery. But rule number 2 is don’t panic and he managed to deal with both curveballs.

Questions about when he’d be back revealed the lack of logistical (any?) awareness, as it was apparently going to be 30 minutes after he’d planned to meet – a very quick ice cream and march home??! We generously suggested he could have a bit longer…

He returned triumphant, navigating a broken card machine, and having met some family friends on the way home (so we got their view too).

The ice cream was excellent – and plastered all over his chin.

While I have long suspected he has tastebuds located there, I’m not sure it advanced his street cred!