CAPTAINS LOG: 17th February

IF anybody told you the worry, guilt, fear and general annoyance that comes with being a parent, I swear to god, you would never do it.  It’s a conspiracy (one that I don’t belong to) that parents never tell want-to-be parents what its truly like having a child.

IF you are not yet a parent but want to be …you should probably look away now cos here is the unedited version of parenting.  

DISCLAIMER:  I have never and would never say that being a mother has come naturally to me.  I have never said that I’m even particularly good at it.  What I lack in capabilities I make up in love.  And boy, do I love my Beavis & Butthead. I love every single hair on their beautiful heads.  I am in awe of them.  Frankly, I adore the bones of them.  But…

PART one of ‘Things I have learned about myself and kids since 2006’…

WORRY:  Jeez, the worry is a killer.  You worry about everything in finite detail. You worry that their laces will come undone and they’ll fall over and smash their teeth out.  You worry that your child is going to be the one who chokes on a grape (even though you’ve cut them into 8 tiny, tiny pieces). You worry that it’s not a spot but a rash.  You worry that the rash is not heat but something far more sinister.  You worry they’ll fall down the stairs and fuck me, then they fall up them and you didn’t see it coming!  You worry that another child will pick on them / hurt them / bully them…that one runs forever with every single scenario you can imagine plus a few more you can’t.  You worry their room is too hot…too cold…spiders that bite live in them….they’ll go to their room in a tantrum and then something horrific happens because you can’t see them.  You worry when they poo too much or when they don’t poo enough.  THIS is why I have been a mess people!

ACCIDENTS: Like the time, my Beavis started to collect the tennis balls from around the school hall (at the end of after school club in Infant School) and as he bent down to get one, he smacked his head on the table that was hidden behind the curtain.  When I arrive he looked like he’d spent his time there practicing bare-knuckle fighting (with Mike Tyson)….blood was streaming down his face, gash in his head, the bloody works. Hello A & E…I had to call Auntie Fried Eggs to help me.

A couple of weeks later, Butthead trips over a pebble, A PEBBLE! And his shin hit a brick which resulted in the skin being scraped back to what I thought was the bone (I have no idea….I wanted to be sick so I called Auntie Fried Eggs again).  Poor Auntie FE!

SEX, babies & Lady Gardens:  You need a hard hat to get through this shit.  I remember one day Butthead asked me what a ‘period’ was.  I went into great details, bordering on graphic. After my spiel I asked him why he’d asked.  You know what he said? “Oh Alex (Wizards of Waverley Place) just said she had Maths next period…

Or ‘where do babies actually come out from?’ My boys were born via C-Section.  I always told them that they’d entered this world via the ‘picnic basket’ method.  That was fine and all was just dandy.  Until they were told that actually most babies came out of ‘the lady’s front bottom’.  Fuck. Me, Dead.  I knew what was coming next…I just did.  And I was dreading it. ‘Mummy, what’s a front bottom?’  I remember actually thinking ‘kill me now’. 

SIZE:  They used to be small.  So, so small.  Beavis was 5lbs 1oz at birth and Butthead was 4lb 1oz.  I could carry them everywhere in my arms, together and never suffer with aches and pains.  This continued for years.  Now one is catching up to me at a rate of knots and whilst the other is smaller, that won’t last forever.  I find myself glad that I have always been that Mum.  The one who takes no shit.  The one in charge.  The one who instilled in them that the police would be called even for the slightest misdemeanour.  The ‘crimes’ ranged from litter, to seat belts, to fighting with each other, to having the TV on too loud.   I don’t shout often.  I don’t lose my shit often.  We have very, very few tantrums in our house (from any of us) and we have a lot of laughing, cuddling and love.  But who is in charge?  Oh I am.  And they know it.  I’ll defend them to my last breath but they want to give me attitude then that shit stops the second it happens.  I don’t rule my boys with fear.  I rule them with the knowledge that I am Mum and they do what I say.  

SO do I regret having children?  Nah, not in a million.  I love my boys, bloody adore them, love them more than life but sadly, this world is an ever changing shower of shit and THAT fills me with guilt and worry.  Being a parent is not for the faint-hearted.  It’s a never ending battle field and that’s just school mornings.  I wonder how many times over the years I have said ‘have you cleaned your teeth?’ or ‘get dressed NOW’ or my personal favourite ‘turn the bloody light off in the bathroom’.

AND before you start rolling your eyes; I get it.  They’ll soon be teenagers and I know brilliant parents who have all said the same thing…”good luck with that when they’re teenagers!”   But you know what?  That’s your house and I’ll do it my way.  I’m hopeful that my boys’ are growing up knowing right from wrong and will remain respectful of me.  If they don’t…well good luck to them.  It won’t be pretty.  BUT like everything else in life, we’ll face those hurdles when we reach them. There’s enough to worry about at the moment.

BIG SNOGS

Kitty xxx

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