Yes…the wonderful, endless, painful, exceptional, school holidays are soon coming to an end.
Nearly 1000000 weeks off school (although, to be fair, those Teachers must need it)…looong. My trio. The mini me entourage? Damn…. they’ve been busy, washing, cleaning and losing socks at home is beyond crazy, and yet….still…I get the same old question…EVERY 10 MINUTES:-
MUMMMMMMMMMMM???!! WHAT ARE WE DOING TODAY!? NOW? RIGHT NOW?! MUUUUUUUMMMMM!!??”
These kids of mine, are very lucky, and fortunate, erm….”people” (I didn’t want to be harsh with my own crew).
I am beyond stunned, that they are “BORED” from ONE (ONNNNNNEEEEE!!!!!!!!) day inside the padded cell known as our non permanent “rental home”.
Now, I have spent WEEEEEEEKS, yes, WEEEEEKS, alone, with my trio keeping them busy, travelling, going out, spending an absolute fortune, to keep these little meanies “busy”. BUSY ON A LEVEL LIKE BANKERS FEEL “BUSY” TAKING THEIR CLIENTS TO STRIP CLUBS”…. that’s how “BUSY” these under 7’s have kept me. And before you all forget…. IM FUCKING ALONE!!! Single Mum. To be fair. It’s much easier when it’s just me…”Iron fist, velvet glove” Mum that I am.
This is normal for the mini entourage and I ….however… if even ONE day is spent being a 1980’s Mum ie. “For fucks sake, entertain yourself and leave the adults alone!? Why are you even asking me for a bloody sandwich? Do I look like I work for you??’!!”
I’m ridden with “this 2017 judgemental parenting” guilt. Instilled by the media, NW Hampstead joggers you throw your fags at while doing the school run (they are normally rosey cheeked raahs , being all “healthy”), Lycra/legging/shirt in winter wearing “sporty” Mums at school (you know the ones…they’re all cliquey….speak to everyone (except you, the antichrist antimum outsider) and yet…their hair and nails are still (STILL) immaculate, and the ex husband who feels I should be tap dancing daily for the children to ensure I’m doing a good job to earn my monthly maintenance.
Seriously? For those of us who grew up in the “real” world…especially the 1980’s generation…I don’t recall THIS level of “parental” involvement and play date hell with some boring 7yr old who bullies my child (but hey, it’s a play date, so they’re “mentally growing”). This is BULLSHIT.
This is “adult mummy parental peer pressure”. Ive been “shunned” from some Mummy groups, towards the end of last year, because I blatantly rejected (politely) certain (hugely pointless and unnecessary coffee mornings/emails), constant messages for money to give “spa gifts” for the school staff (at an expensive private school), or to once again fill the mummy money kitty for yet another school fair.
Shunned why? I asked questions. OH….and I may have cracked a few unPC (possibly anti-marriage) jokes. Yes, I’m a “wrong ‘un.”
Damn my big gob. Ie. My daughter had no girls attend her birthday (despite attending all theirs) last year. She was devastated. I emailed the Mummy “WhatsApp bullshit hypocrite group” and literally said “why are NONE of your girls attending my child’s birthday?” Response. Nothing. Blanked. I’ve never been blanked. I’m the cool one at school. So what did I do. I created a new group. One called “I fucking hate affected Mummy dicks” (yes, childish…but still…we were cool). So far there are, erm, 4 of us. 2 are currently on probation for a DUI. Great girls though and our nights in Camden are legendary 😉
*That said. adult bullying is actually something I will write about next…as I can’t believe what I’ve witnessed daily with school “cliques” amoung Mums. It’s sooo blatant. Rude. Spiteful. Boring as you don’t ACTUALLY WANT to hang around these people (but ego wants you to be involved) but I will never ever bother with these vulgar socially inadequate people again. Anyway… Today is about the return to hell/heaven after the longest school holidays known to man kind.
My mini entourage have spent weeks on holiday ( weeks!!), at expensive tennis summer camps, with friends, family, outings that cost a minimum of £200 a day….basically “busy” as hell. Busy busy busy. Educating and broadening their minds…
BUT….today, they spent 6 hours IN DOORS (YES, IN DOORS, as in “inside the house”, WHILE IT RAINED) and complained that I wasn’t “entertaining” them. 🙂
Entertaining “them”…? Entertaining them….?
Erm…. Are you for fucking real?
What happened to us parents owning our own lives and households? Everyone I know complains about this shit but we all still torture ourselves and our kids, forcing too much social and physical activity to prove to those around us that we are “doing a great job”. Nb. If a parent isn’t happy, or is tired…do you not think this may potentially rub off on their children? Outside peer pressure for adults, who are full time parents (apparently this is not a “job” but more a joyous “lifestyle choice”….) we too, at times, need to call the shots in our own home. We can gauge what our children need.
And my worry when they (my mini trio) complained they were “bored?”… my concern, aside from “oh for fucks sake…!” Was…”What will people think?”
What the HELL have we done as a generation that I HAVE TO STOP HOUSEWORK…. TO SING …..AND DANCE …..AND GOOGLE ……ENTERTAINMENT?!! This makes me a good parent. This makes me a good parent? Not the Mother who runs around like a dog daily for her children, sleeps on floors (sometimes without even a blanket or glass of vino) when one is ill, drives 12 hours a days to collect/drop off/take to play dates…) nope.
I’m a shit mum if my children are bored for one single minute. We’ve ruined this generation. We have taught them nothing about morals, respect, manners, character…its them who apparently run the show. But….No…nope. No way. Not happening. I’m done with this polite “adorable, organic, support their desires” display. It’s not for the kids, this bullshit show…the one of exhausted Master Mummy…it’s to show off to other parents. It’s about displaying your abilities. You’re all bored. I’m not. I’ve got a life. I’m busy. I’m normal.
Children, should be able to cope, as us adults do, with time at home. And “time” doesn’t mean “jail time”….but in the old days, there were no “play areas” in my Parents flat. There were no friggin “playdates with Jane” from across the road. This is how the 1980’s worked in my era….
“Mum, can Jane come over today?”
Mum: “Yes fine. Stay in your room. Have fun.”
End of conversation. Jane and I would ring numerous restaurants for prank calls, watch TV, listen to the “Radio” (yes, “Radio”” and keep the fuck out of my parents way….WHY? BECAUSE IT WAS THEIR HOUSE!!!!
“Listen Mum Beeeeyatch! Dad said you need to fucking entertain our arses. Jane and her crew are coming over (theyre 7 yrs old btw), and if we ask you for Organic treats, youre not only going to hand them over, but take photos of our wonderous time together and post it via Whatssapp to demonstrate what a great NEW AGE DICK YOU ARE”
ME Internally….”Benadryl laced pasta lunch then, you manipulative wankers?!”
WHY are we doing this stupid crap??
My generation grew up in a time when serious shit happened. Yet, we all happiliy got on with stuff and I never ever recall my parents going “ooohhh, she has a playdate….we cant make that important event today!”
My Parents were, great, and also…very normal. ” You live here kid. You eat when we do. This is your 5ft by 5ft play zone in your OWN bedroom. Crack on and don’t answer back”. Simple.
This is how things roll in this day and stupid boring, miserable age:-
Me..: “We have to leave the house immediately to get to your 8.30am, (on a Saturday) playdate. Where are your Pink Fairy wings and gift for your friend “RainbowJuliabellscarlett?”
All one name FYI. Because the parents are affected twats. Who live in a posh area but are very “down to earth”.
On arriving at some lush palace in Nottinghill, the host, AKA “Posh Mummy” states:
“Oh she (referring to my Super cute, totally unaware & NORMAL CHILD, who was wearing her older brothers Batman costume with My Little Pony trainers & neon orange leggings from “Mummy’s 80’s fancy dress box”) needs a “magic costume from this years Sundance kids Film Festival in our cellar”. This? Errrr….to attend a tea party at 8.30am on a Saturday morning… and then this lycra, thin haired, thin bodied, Sloaney pony, states her “E-invite” was very clear that you “please dont arrive with Nuts, sugar, happiness or a rainbow….” as her baby, little Jim, is allergic to all and we don’t encourage Happiness in our home”. My child, one of my three favourites, handed me her bag of honey coated bits, candy floss, medium sized rainbow, and smile, over to me at the door. When I hugged her “goodbye”, she whispered “please come get me in 1O….minutes. I’ll pretend I have a bad tummy ache”. My daughter is FIVE YEARS old. I literally walked to my car, parked 12 streets away in NOTTINGHILL as no one can park outside their house in London, and sure enough….I had a phone call from Lycra Mum stating “your daughter has just said she did the biggest shit in my 4th bathroom and needs to i home immediately before she Explodes in my Persian rug”. To be honest…I couldn’t have been prouder. She would have been beyond bored for those 3 hours. 2 nannies, 4 children, a overly medicated “rahhh” Mum….it was too much. She told me when I collected her, after giving me a little wink “Mum…let’s go to E&O…I need to tell you what those crazies were like. They even had “Nannies”….
FUCK OFF!!! You encourage the idiot to wear a fairy costume though?! At 8.30am while you open the door wearing gym clothes to demonstrate how miserably healthy you are while your “friend”, a 20 year old exhausted Aupair…
called Tania …
frm Switzerland,is running around after 4 posh, irritating kids dressed as total wankers for a wierd playdate. Wow. What an amazing parent you are. Let me take notes.
The new term is about to start in Septmeber. I am more, now than ever, determined…to NOT do this bullshit. DETERMINED. I WILL NOT GIVE IN TO THIS CRAZY SHIT.
I run a home.
I love my kids.
I want them to be normal and happy.
I AM NOT doing this bullshit playdate, “do what the kids want” crap anymore.
I’m divorced. I live by my own moral codes and conduct. I’m free. THANK FK.
You want a playdate at mine?
Get ready to be an actual kid.
That involves actually hanging out with your mates, not bothering adults and no personal staff to assist you when you want a glass of water. Otherwise, youre a freak and I don’t want my children around you. You are NOT NORMAL. My trio ARE. Yes, now IM judging. Back off cracky lycra wearing NW Hampstead Mummies. I’m appalled at your elitism, lack of manners, zero personality, and ability to be YOU. Yes…..I AM JUDGING NOW. IVE BEEN LOCKED INTO THIS AREA AGAINST MY WILL…. NOW….I BEG YOU TO PICK A FIGHT OR STUPID MINDLESS PLAYDATE. I don’t WANT frivolous conversation. I don’t want coffee mornings. I HAVE friends and a life. We all do. This DOES NOT MAKE US BETTER PARENTS.
WHY IS NO ONE ACKNOWLEDING THIS ??
As for the parents…..ughhhh…..Im dreading the new term already.