…and the bathroom’s a disgrace

I do not like sitting on the side, watching the class, biting my lip. I do not like being the only mother who leaves her seat to talk to her children – both of them – in undertones. But being careful not to hiss.

I do not like being the one the other mothers smile at carefully with gentleness in their eyes. I do not like that I have smiled the same smile to them. The father does not look my way at all tonight.

I do not like that when we are in the car, windows up and air conditioner on, I hear myself say ‘that’s one present gone, and that only leaves two’. It is something I have promised myself I will never – ever – say. Although now that I have said it once, I know that I will not say it again. I like that when we drive past the golf course I stop myself saying I should stop the car and leave you to live in the trees.

I do not like that nobody told me that there would be moments when my children would define me, but leave me no control.

And then I remember my mother did, but I did not have my listening ears on.

0 thoughts on “…and the bathroom’s a disgrace”

  1. I found myself saying that I’d have to have a little talk with Santa about whether my son’s conduct keeps him on the nice list or allows him to migrate to another less enjoyable list.

    And I’m well and truly sick of looking down at the floor as my son gets another playschool lecture for being ‘spirited’…

  2. If my 7 yo son pulls his pants down in the playground again, Santa is not allowed to bring him Bionicles. I really hope he doesn’t do it. Santa will be in trouble.

  3. Nah, Nick, these weren’t being spirited, they were being total shits. White wine or beer, doesn’t matter which. Bionicles! Whoa – that’s a big bargaining chip – surely he won’t make you follow through. Surely. Surely.

  4. Bionicles are a kind of Lego. An involved sci fi fantasy universe, centred around the purchase of toys, with companion (badly written) books. The centre of my small boy’s universe right now.

    Luckily, no, I’m slack with my Christmas shopping. But his Dad has some returning of goods to do …

    I’m just sad that I don’t get to see his delighted face when he opens the present I wanted to give him. Oh well, maybe he’ll keep his pants up for a while.

    And happy blogiversary, TC! Well done.

  5. Oh dear. I have no offspring, but is this similar to the feeling one has on discovering that puss has brought a native species gift to the doormat?

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