As a
parent, right from the start, you are overwhelmed with a whole world of
glittering products and challenging choices. It always seems like if you buy
this one thing, or if your kid can just meet this one milestone, life will be
easier. The thing is though, the real bastard of parenting is, that everything
- every single thing - is a mixed blessing*. For every dream-like pro, there’s
a con that you haven’t considered. Here are my top mixed blessings that
regularly make me silently scream.
1.
Crocs. They
seem like a good idea - the kids can put them on themselves, they can go in
water, in sand, in whatever crap Z chooses to wade through before I can grab
him, and the pound shop sells knock offs for, well, a pound. All good things,
all good things. But oh dear god they are so bloody annoying. Sure, the kids
can put them on themselves but the flip side of that is they fall off all the
time. All the time. If we go out and they're wearing crocs, the journey time is
tripled - at least. Barely a step is taken without D bleating 'My shoe! Mummy,
my shoe!' and some kind stranger chasing after us, as I carry on walking
because I don't bloody care about the bloody croc anymore because it is the
nineteenth time it’s happened in five minutes and suddenly a barefoot toddler
seems fine, totally fine. Then there's the whole durable/washable shebang. Z
knows it's fine to go in water in them. This means if he's wearing them, he
definitely will go in water in them. It's like a challenge to him: ‘Must find a
skanky, dysentery-laced, stagnant puddle to jump in, else wearing my crocs will
have been a wasted opportunity!’ Crocs, you are a royal pain in the ass.
2.
Scooters.
The upside of scooters is they can speed up the whole getting places process.
In my mind, the kids would whizz off ahead and we'd be getting from A to B in
no time. This is not the reality. Firstly, D&Z can't steer them and at no
point when riding them do they actually look where they’re going, so barely two
metres passes without them crashing into each other, me or (worst case
scenario) an innocent passer-by. Sometimes I'm so powerless to do anything that
I just have to shut my eyes and pray it's an understanding passer-by. Secondly,
the whole whizzing off ahead is not without issues. They whizz off ahead,
completely ignoring my bellows to 'STOP AT THE NEXT LAMP POST! STOP! STOP NOW!
IT IS VERY DANGEROUS TO IGNORE MUMMY!' I spend much of the time running wildly
and sweatily and pointlessly after them (whilst muttering violently about the
fucking scooters). Lastly, and by no means least, their interest in them is
short lived. Nine times out of ten, I carry the effing things for the majority
of the outing. Oh, and crocs plus scooters is an absolute recipe for
disaster.
3.
Electronic
devices. My two don't have any electronic devices (largely at the moment
because I just can't justify the cost) but I do let them play games on my
iPhone and my mum has an iPad that they sometimes watch stuff on. The plus side
of this is that they're completely absorbed by them and it buys me ten minutes of
peace. If I'm lucky. There are so many downsides though and we never, ever end
a session on a device without at least one person weeping. The first hurdle is
that they have to take turns. Taking turns is Very Hard when you're three, and
even more so when the thing you're waiting for is So Much Fun. Then there's the
fact that, actually, my kids are a bit shit at lots of the games we've got, so
I end up having to help them, thus totally defeating the point of them being on
the device in the first place. (I am, however, a total pro at making Peppa Pig
candy floss against the clock.) Watching a programme isn't any better. ‘Don't
touch the screen!’ is always the first instruction. Thirty seconds in: 'MAMAAAAGGGHHH!
I HAS PRESSED SOMETHING! IT IS NOT WORKING ANYMORE!' Oh for fuck's sake. Again,
having to intervene every two minutes just is not the point of a device. The
worst part though is when you have to take the device off them. This is always,
no matter how many warnings you give, going to end in what one friend refers to
as the iPaddy. No toddler in the history of time has ever willingly
relinquished an electronic device - you have to prise it out of their sweaty,
sticky, surprisingly strong grip in an undignified and inelegant scuffle, then
listen to them sob for the rest of eternity. A mixed blessing indeed.
4.
Potty
training. It's not just products that we
convince ourselves will be life-changing. Oh no, there's a whole barrel-load of
milestones that I have been sure will make my life easier. And in some ways
they do - but they also bring a whole raft of new nonsense with them. Potty
training is definitely up there as one of the biggest mixed blessings. No more
nappies – think of the money we’ll save! Hurray! No more searching for a
changing table! Woohoo! No more poo-splosions that'd make grown adults weep! Yes!
Who could ask for more? Me. Now I know what them being potty trained is like, I
want to ask for more. Or rather less. I
want to spend less time in the bloody toilet.
I now spend approximately 60% of my life in the toilet. At least. You
see that list of summer holiday plans I put up the other day? Mostly we'll go
to the toilets at those places. Maybe the café too if we’re lucky, but mostly
it will be spent in the toilet, with Zachary trying to get into the tampon bin
and Daisy pulling off yards of toilet paper and me getting wedged in the door
because of my bastarding backpack and both of them attempting to lick the
toilet brush. Suddenly the changing
table doesn’t seem so bad.
5.
Getting
rid of the buggy. It is no secret that I
loathed all three of the double buggies I had.
They are heavy, they are unwieldy, I scraped my shins trying to heft the
bastards in and out of the car more times than I care to remember and people do
not realise how hard they are to push (seriously, so hard. If you see someone with a double buggy, be
kind. Hold the door. Lift the buggy up
the stairs. Get out of the way. Smile.
Pat them on the back. Hand them a
gin and tonic. They need it.) I was
desperate to get rid of all three of them.
The twins are now three and while we do have a cheap single stroller
(mainly used for lugging crap down to the beach) we are largely
buggy-less. It means I can go into any shop
and not worry about getting wedged in the door.
Public transport in all forms is now available to me. Stairs are no longer a barrier to a solo day
out. The mixed blessing part comes from
the fact the children – the two feral, wayward and impossible to control children
- are no longer contained. Sure, we can
go into any shop. They can also pull
crap off the shelves in any shop too. We
can go on the bus – and they can reach up to press the bell a gazillion
times. We can walk up and down
stairs. We can also tumble headlong down
the stairs because we are utterly unaware of our capabilities and heed no
warnings that mummy offers. They also
walk at vastly different paces – Z zooms off ahead while D trips and wafts behind
me. I spend half the time shouting at Z
to wait and the other half shouting at D to catch up. Is it better than the double buggy?
Marginally.
6. Speech development. I can remember when D&Z were about 18
months, talking to a friend about how I was sure part of their tantrumming was
because they couldn’t communicate what they wanted to and it would be much
easier once they could talk properly because then they could tell me what they
wanted. Hahahahahahaha. No.
Both my children can now communicate in full and extensive sentences and
their tantrum throwing ability has developed at a similar rate. Now, when they throw a tantrum, they can tell
me in full sentences why exactly they are so pissed off at me. ‘Mummy, it is not fair because you will not
let me have another Jaffa Cake and I love Jaffa Cakes, I just love them in the
whole world and it is not fair Mummy and I do not like you in the whole world
ever.’ And it’s not just that their developed speech has had no impact on
reducing the tantrums. Oh no. It is also the fact that they never, from the
moment their eyes ping open, to long after they’ve gone to bed, stop
talking. Ever. I get a double running commentary on
everything that is happening. Daisy’s is
high pitched and hyperactive, Zachary’s is slow and ponderous. I get asked 7000 questions a minute and I’m
not given the chance to answer one and sweet mother of Christ they must say
‘Mummy’ thousands and thousands of times a day.
Sometimes that’s all they say: ‘Mummy?’ ‘Yes love?’ ‘Mummy? Mummy!
Mummy…Mummy-Mummy! MUMMMY!’ ‘Yes? What do you want?’ ‘MUMMMMMMMMMY!’ Over and
over and over again until I cannot bear to hear the word ‘Mummy’ again (which
is when I put the TV on and hide in the kitchen!)
So, next time you’re looking around
the metaphorical corner, hoping that x or y might make a tiny part of your life
easier, just remember to take off the rose coloured glasses and lower those
expectations. Being a parent is an
exhilarating, muscle-aching, heart-breaking, chest-swelling, tear-welling,
mind-blowing, nerve-grating, patience-testing, late-running, door-slamming,
hug-winning, smile-making, love-growing marathon. No product or milestone is going to make it
easier, it’ll just be different. And
when you’re picking up that effing jeffing croc for the gazzilionth time, at
the same time as silently screaming, remember that all too soon no-one will
need you to pick up their croc, or to drag them along on the scooter or to wrestle
the toilet brush away from their mouth.
All these things are mixed blessings, just like being a parent, but
they’re definitely blessings. How lucky
we are to have these teeny tiny tyrants in our lives, and how fleetingly it
will pass. And in the meantime, if the
silent screaming and the remembering this only lasts fleetingly doesn’t work,
pour yourself a gin and tonic: that’s one blessing that’s always happily mixed
in this house.
*Except for maybe the Gro Clock – I’ve had
four (FOUR!) post 7am rises in the last week thanks to the Gro Clock. Fucking miracle.
