Today I had to get up and leave the house without eating or DRINKING COFFEE for the blasted abdominal scan. Friday is not a day my kids have kinder/childcare so it was off to St Vincent's Hospital on the tram we went.
In and out by 10.30 we decided to have morning tea at the museum and then a quick look about. For a city that claims to love its coffee something was surely amiss. The poo-water I was served up in the museum cafe had me in a foul mood. It was grey. How is that even possible? The milk was so freakin' hot it was about to form a skin.
We had an excellent time wandering the galleries and out around the old exhibition building. We stopped to watch some tiny spider mites crawling on a wall and then wandered up Gertrude St to get some more paper for our menus. I managed to blag a free spot at the hairdressers and while the boys made some modelling clay creatures I had my mop tamed into submission. My last hair cut was in May so things were getting rather crispy and shaggy.
When we were leaving the boys were given a lolly pop from the bowl on the counter and by the time we boarded the tram home they were in a full-blown sugar flip-out. I have never come so close to crying in public due to the the behaviour of my children, they were literally carrying on like a flock of galahs. I managed to play the pity-card on one but the other raised the bar to a whole new level of insolence, that of which I've only heard of in legend.
I counted to ten. I breathed. I called their father to arrange the swift bagging of favourite toys to spend a fortnight on the top of the wardrobe.
Then some 'kind-soul' behind us muttered, "That one needs a smack."
If I can only explain how furiously I was trying to control the urge NOT to smack my child. smacking would have been the easy way out and I'm no coward! After greasing off the offending c*$t, I calmly explained the family rules to my child in a quiet rhythmic tone. We have a few and I kept repeating them over and over until they were both sitting and listening like perfect angels.
So. YOU. Fucking twerp on the tram. Next time I'm in Centrelink and I hear, "Taighlahh, Tahhnee, Jeighdynn, stop friggin' fightin' or I'll belt yahs" I will be reminded of EXACTLY the kind of person you are. Good Luck with your 'gem' of a parenting technique.
In and out by 10.30 we decided to have morning tea at the museum and then a quick look about. For a city that claims to love its coffee something was surely amiss. The poo-water I was served up in the museum cafe had me in a foul mood. It was grey. How is that even possible? The milk was so freakin' hot it was about to form a skin.
We had an excellent time wandering the galleries and out around the old exhibition building. We stopped to watch some tiny spider mites crawling on a wall and then wandered up Gertrude St to get some more paper for our menus. I managed to blag a free spot at the hairdressers and while the boys made some modelling clay creatures I had my mop tamed into submission. My last hair cut was in May so things were getting rather crispy and shaggy.
When we were leaving the boys were given a lolly pop from the bowl on the counter and by the time we boarded the tram home they were in a full-blown sugar flip-out. I have never come so close to crying in public due to the the behaviour of my children, they were literally carrying on like a flock of galahs. I managed to play the pity-card on one but the other raised the bar to a whole new level of insolence, that of which I've only heard of in legend.
I counted to ten. I breathed. I called their father to arrange the swift bagging of favourite toys to spend a fortnight on the top of the wardrobe.
Then some 'kind-soul' behind us muttered, "That one needs a smack."
If I can only explain how furiously I was trying to control the urge NOT to smack my child. smacking would have been the easy way out and I'm no coward! After greasing off the offending c*$t, I calmly explained the family rules to my child in a quiet rhythmic tone. We have a few and I kept repeating them over and over until they were both sitting and listening like perfect angels.
So. YOU. Fucking twerp on the tram. Next time I'm in Centrelink and I hear, "Taighlahh, Tahhnee, Jeighdynn, stop friggin' fightin' or I'll belt yahs" I will be reminded of EXACTLY the kind of person you are. Good Luck with your 'gem' of a parenting technique.
5 comments:
Smacking is not my thing either, it just doesn't work.
I had the stares, implying 'she needs a bloody good smack', but no one was ever game to say it!
like flock of galahs...nice alf stewart channelling there.
It takes a phenomenal amount of inner strength to survive those days...the insane level of frustraton, the sheer exhaustion of it! I have a quick and violent temper so it's been a real learning curve to reign that in. Yes smacking would be easy, but it'd also be gutless and make me a bully.
im totally with u on this one. if smacking worked or was the right thing parenting would be easy - we'd all do it and have perfectly behaved kids. my philosophy is if we are trying to ask our kids to control themselves then we need to start with controlling ourselves first. sooooo hard to do! but we arn't perfect and there are times i have gritted my teeth and been a bit too rough with my little darlings when trying to 'manage' their behaviour... sounds like the boys were great for most of the day. well done getting a haircut - brave woman! lucky they didn't spot those dreaded lollypops pre-shampoo!
Oh Ms Aims I laughed, I cringed, I empathised, and I marveled at your actions. You got through one of life's more challenging moments without exerting your physical strength over someone smaller and more vulnerable than yourself. Sugar!!??$#@&%*. Makes us all crazy.
Just remember that your worst moments of today will be your funniest anecdotes of tomorrow. Some kind sole once told me that when my littlies were having a public meltdown and it has helped me through some crazy days and turned out to be quite accurate.
Also smacking never works it just makes the smacker feel awful.
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