Today’s post, just to remind me that I shouldn’t be too cocky about toddlerdom being left far behind me, is powered by my utter and total irritation with my children.
In the last week they seem to have descended into some primal soup of idiocy that is making me tear my hair out.
We are back to the days of having to ask, and ask, and ask, and then ask again for every little thing.
I am not asking/ reminding them of new, strange, important things. That would be understandable. No, it’s the same old shit as before:
Do not trek up and down the beige stair carpet with your muddy boots on.
Do not tell me you need £1.43 in non sequential change, possibly of different countries of origin three minutes before you leave the house.
Ditto, telling me you have run out of pants/socks/trousers/brains when you get up, even though I ask you at least three times a day for your laundry, and even though the washing machine is on so much I am thinking of hooking it up to a treadmill and using it to get fit.
Do not tell me that you forgot to buy X/Y/Z a birthday/christmas present and you need it NOW.
Do not come home from school only to remind me that you need to go to a flugelhorn recital that you never told me about, but swear blind you did, even though there is no evidence of it in the diary.
Do not walk past the pile of things I have asked you to take upstairs 8 times in a row until I explode.
Do not spend valuable time you could be spending doing something that has a point, arguing whether Amber was actually right about Junior Bake Off or not. Nobody cares.
Do not, when asked to put your shoes away, put one in the shoe rack, but cause a small shoe avalanche by doing this, and then walk away leaving thousands of shoes strewn over the hall.
Do not ransack your school bag in the hall and leave 3/4 of your books sitting in a pile right next to the stairs where someone is bound to trip over it, and then run out of the house claiming that you can’t stop or you will be late.
Do not sigh at me when I ask you to put your dirty dishes in the dishwasher/sweep up the crumbs you have made/wipe up the mess you have made/put your own things away as if I have asked you to donate a kidney.
Do not tell me we have to go somewhere very urgently, let me prepare for that urgent event and be ready to go only to find that I have to wait five minutes while you put on eyeliner, brush your hair, text someone in Swindon, and then still fail to have your shoes and coat on.
Do not moan about the perfectly good boots you were bought for school, even though you could have come to the shoe shop to choose them, but didn’t because you wanted to go to a Christmas Fete to spend money I gave you for doing chores inefficiently and with bad grace.
Do not under any circumstances ask me what we are going to have for tea tonight when a) you are stuffing your face with breakfast and b) if you were listening you’d have heard me telling your sibling only moments earlier.