Tough Mother

On our final day in Paris we had to abandon our trip to Versailles due to strikes, so instead we convinced the kids that a trip to the Louvre would be fun.

To spice things up a bit, I suggested a challenge.

We had to decide a thing we’d look out for and count how many pieces of art we saw where it appeared.

I proposed animals – thinking it was a pretty safe bet. My daughter immediately piped up and said she wanted to count the number of “no clothes people”. She could already see three…

Alternative suggestions were rejected.

Unsurprisingly, it very quickly presented difficulties in the antiquities section as the kids started debating (loudly) whether strategically placed linen counted as clothes…

I caught myself wondering at what age I’ll be an embarrassment to them and whether my dad still has the woolly pompom hat he used to wear on the netball court sideline…

Luckily, my son decided animals were a better option (we abandoned counting after 102) and my daughter was distracted from naked people after she hit 13… I’m not sure I could have coped with much more art appreciation.

Sound familiar? What’s your tactic for extricating yourself from similar situations?

Still in Paris, we were staying in an apartment on the sixth floor of a lovely old building. I can safely say it was older than most buildings in NZ. It had a great view of the Eiffel Tower, enough rooms so we didn’t have to share with the kids, a beautiful spiral staircase, and a lift helpfully constructed in the centre.

It was probably not the original intention, but this led to many different races – in the various permutations of stairs v lift, adults and kids, up and down (down being substantially faster!).

On the second day, in a adult downstairs vs kids in lift challenge. my brother, in his wisdom, pressed the call button at level 3 on his way past.

This was a very effective strategy – well and truly beating the kids to the bottom, even with his dodgy knee.

Day three, the kids decided they’d take the stairs while my husband and I took the lift.

From the thundering down the stairs (luckily for the other inhabitants of the building at 10am), it sounded like we were making good time. Until we came to an abrupt stop at 3.

Working out what our son had done, we got going again.

To stop at 2.

And 1.

Hilarious.

One of my brothers and sister-in-law were over from New Zealand recently. Their kids are at university and they’ve taken the opportunity to explore (that feels very distant just now). It was pretty exciting getting a visit from the Kiwi family. The last visitation was two years ago when my dad was over.

We decided to take them and the kids to Paris (Grandma’s offer of babysitting was received after we’d booked the tickets).

The day of departure dawned. The excitement levels were at feverish. The kids had been looking forward to the “under the sea” train for weeks.

My son was given a small card model of the Eurostar to make up while we were going through security. It gave us a few moments of quiet while he constructed it, and then showed the other children waiting in line how to do theirs.

Then he had a brilliant idea.

Which we were left waiting for while he took off purposefully.

Like Oliver, he was asking for more (one for his sister and one for him)… oblivious to the other travellers who were trying to get the representative’s attention.

Turns out he’d worked out how to join the two together so he had a ‘proper’ Eurostar.

Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed once he’d realised we wouldn’t be seeing fish when we went through the tunnel.

I decided against suggesting he speak to the engineers about some improvements…

 

I was playing dentists with my daughter (her choice!) and she was showing me how to say ah (so relieved she has confidence in my abilities!).

During her demonstration, I noticed she had an adult tooth starting to peep through behind her baby ones. After a bit of excitement and some awkward contortioning for a selfie so she could see, we booked a trip to the dentist.

All good, nothing to do but wait for the baby teeth to fall out. Let the anticipation commence…

About a week later, eating an apple after school, she discovered that a tooth was wobbly. The excitement! I think half the school heard her news! There were smiles, lots of experimental wobbles, and her brother offering to help take it to the next step!

However, a few hours later at dinner she was distraught. Turns out she didn’t want to get big teeth.

It is hard to tell whether that was pain in the moment or something else – fear of growing up? Do 5 year olds consider such existential issues? Tooth fairies and the potential for money were no comfort (not sure I blame her).

All I know is that almost two weeks later, the tooth was still wobbly and no apples have been requested!

Have you been faced with a similar crisis?

A friend recently had a baby and I was sharing ‘birth stories’ with another friend. There’s a slightly macabre satisfaction in explaining how bad, or not, it really was…

Anyway, part way through, my son asks why we paid more for his sister than for him.

This was greeted with stunned silence – what on earth was he was talking about?

It became apparent on further questioning.

She was 9 pounds and he was only 7 pounds.

More expensive indeed…

“Best day ever” is not how I would usually describe the experience of watching the Titanic. But for my 7 year old son it was apparently a dream come true.

Said son is obsessed with the Titanic.

At current count, we have seen two lego (re)creations, one model incarnation (mostly glued by patient husband) and multiple renditions of ‘my heart will go on’ – with at least one recorded should he (I) wish to show his friends in a few years.

Watching a movie is a different experience when you know the story. I can say that I have not experienced the intensity of living it before as I did that day seeing it through my son’s eyes.

A classic moment of light relief occurred during the love scene. “Why have they got no clothes on?”

Guiseppe Murabito from unsplash.com

I was pondering how to respond to son’s question, when Kate said to Leo “You’re trembling”.

Son immediately responded “Well, he wouldn’t be cold if he had clothes on”.

Wise words son, wise words indeed!

 

Have you had a lucky escape when comes to explaining the facts of life?

I grew up on a farm in New Zealand, one of a (very) large family. It is therefore pretty tricky to get many details about my early years.

When it was my turn to have kids, I decided to keep a bit more of a record and started diaries for both my children (now 7 and 5).  Unfortunately, life happened, other things got in the way, and they got consigned to the back of a drawer.

However, finding the diaries inspired me to try again.

I had a pretty straight forward childhood. We were expected to muck in and get on with things. Being transplanted in the UK, I’ve found that not everything translates, so I hope you bear with me while I find my way in this parenting business.

My starting point is that we’re all basically making it up as we go along so if you’re looking for advice, this isn’t the right place (I relied heavily on the fact that kids can’t remember their early years)!

I find parenting hard work, but there is gold in all sorts of moments (when I take the time to notice them).