Losing my sh*t!
So this morning - I hate to admit this - but I TOTALLY lost my shit with Ben, my eldest son. When I say “lost my shit”, I actually mean that I called him a “total arsehole”. I would like to say this was said under my breath, but I’d be lying. Instead, I shouted it out loud at the bottom of the stairs, whilst waiting for him to finish getting ready for school. The problem was - we had overslept, so were running super late for school. It wasn’t like I hadn’t given him any warning to get a move on - after all, he had already been on the receiving end of a 15 minute nagging session (my kids call this a “nagathon”). Whilst Teddy was ready and standing obediently at the front door, Ben sauntered downstairs, not a care in the world, looking like a bloody wreck.
Now let me give you a bit of background. Ben is generally a lovely lad - a tall gangling chap with the most enormous feet, untidy at the best of times and dare I say it, moderately unkempt. You know the type of thing, shirt always hanging out, laces undone, chocolate around the mouth kind of kid. He also sleeps with his eyes open - freaky! In truth, he is 10 going on 6. He still sleeps in our bed at night and refuses to go upstairs unless someone goes with him. He eats with his fingers and watches peppa pig (but in fairness - who doesn’t like cartoon pigs falling over whilst killing themselves with laughter.) Yet he plays FIFA on the PlayStation like a demon and according to his teacher, has a very mature outlook to learning....ha ha - love that, you can pull your hair out with your offspring at home, yet when push comes to shove, at school they are little angels.....
Well anyway - back to “Arseholegate”. Ben wandered slowly downstairs with his trouser legs tucked into his socks (like a cyclist - literally this happens every morning - I don’t know how he does it), shirt not tucked in, peanut butter smeared on his jumper - and no bloody tie. By now I am at DEFCON 3, rapidly heading towards DEFCON 1. When I enquire as to where his tie was and why it wasn’t round his neck, all I got was an eye roll and a “Dunno”.
Well, the words just came tumbling out. I couldn’t help it. “You total arsehole!” I yelled. “I put clean uniform out for you every bloody night - all you’ve got to do is put it on!”
Well, I’m not proud of myself - the look of pure shock on Ben and Teddy’s faces will forever stay with me - but my God, it worked. Needless to say, Ben flew around the house finding his tie and was out of the door in record time.
So to end this diary entry - a nugget of parenting advice (if a little bit unorthodox) - call your child an “arsehole” once in a while. It gets results!
Now let me give you a bit of background. Ben is generally a lovely lad - a tall gangling chap with the most enormous feet, untidy at the best of times and dare I say it, moderately unkempt. You know the type of thing, shirt always hanging out, laces undone, chocolate around the mouth kind of kid. He also sleeps with his eyes open - freaky! In truth, he is 10 going on 6. He still sleeps in our bed at night and refuses to go upstairs unless someone goes with him. He eats with his fingers and watches peppa pig (but in fairness - who doesn’t like cartoon pigs falling over whilst killing themselves with laughter.) Yet he plays FIFA on the PlayStation like a demon and according to his teacher, has a very mature outlook to learning....ha ha - love that, you can pull your hair out with your offspring at home, yet when push comes to shove, at school they are little angels.....
Well anyway - back to “Arseholegate”. Ben wandered slowly downstairs with his trouser legs tucked into his socks (like a cyclist - literally this happens every morning - I don’t know how he does it), shirt not tucked in, peanut butter smeared on his jumper - and no bloody tie. By now I am at DEFCON 3, rapidly heading towards DEFCON 1. When I enquire as to where his tie was and why it wasn’t round his neck, all I got was an eye roll and a “Dunno”.
Well, the words just came tumbling out. I couldn’t help it. “You total arsehole!” I yelled. “I put clean uniform out for you every bloody night - all you’ve got to do is put it on!”
Well, I’m not proud of myself - the look of pure shock on Ben and Teddy’s faces will forever stay with me - but my God, it worked. Needless to say, Ben flew around the house finding his tie and was out of the door in record time.
So to end this diary entry - a nugget of parenting advice (if a little bit unorthodox) - call your child an “arsehole” once in a while. It gets results!
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