Fun & Fails of Summer Holidays 2019

Fun & Fails of Summer Holidays 2019

Fun & a Fails of Summer Holiday 2019

It feels good that the Fun & Fails of Summer Holidays 2019 can almost be said in the past tense, only 214 hours and 17 minutes to go. Not that I am counting or anything…honest.

Our staycation has been in parts epic fun, like watching the girls enjoy this ride so much because a Bestie recorded it for me. The pure joy in their faces is a sight to behold. I am so very grateful for everything, everyone has done for me.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

 

But, for those of you who know me,  as you would expect. other parts have been epic FAILS.

I invariably take my kids everywhere with me, because that’s just the way its always been. From blood tests to nail appointments, meetings to lunch dates, my little tribe of small folk often come along for the ride.

As I have been wheel-less for the past 6 weeks, most of these things have only been feasible if we walked to whatever we had planned, or begged a lift out of some crazy folks willing to risk taking 3 kids and a One Armed Bandit to Gullivers World! That has Fun & Fails of Summer Holidays written all over it!

Team Twiglet has managed to amass a running total of almost getting knocked over a whopping 17 times! Why-oh-why would you stick your head out into the path of moving vehicles?

Honestly, I thought I had done a better job of this whole parenting shiz! 

Off we strolled to a beauty appointment.

I’m the kinda person who just wants to get shit done. A one appointment wonder. Poor Katie has to put up with me, my kids and sometimes even a dog! What a combo!

On the upside – she has the most fabulous set up meaning throughout the appropriately named Fun & Fails Summer Holidays, the kids can play outside in view, whilst she attempts to make me look somewhere near respectable. And fix whatever DIY related breakages that have occurred to my former beautifully manicured talons.

Mid wax and my phone rings. Great timing as always, you see I haven’t made up my motto for shits and giggles.

Things in life really do only happen to me!

Kates Place of Beauty Logo

Now ordinarily this would obviously go unanswered, after all the screams tend to put people off or terrify them causing a rescue team to be deployed!

But after a 3 day search and a lot of cat calling (literally) we were hoping of news of the whereabouts of little miss Beatrice, one of our beautiful Ninja Kittens. 

As “Vets” flashed up I failed to answer. My phone went into some weird update mode, where it was ringing but not, and I couldn’t answer it. By this point, the pain of recently having hair pulled out at the roots vanished. After I had cussed the life out of my phone, the age old “switch it off and on again” worked like a charm.

With huge amounts of trepidation, I called our wonderful Vets back, and much to my dismay it was not the news we had all been hoping for. Sadly Beatrice had been knocked over and hadn’t made it. 

In the relatively short former years of Team Twiglet, this has been such a difficult and heart wrenching blow to deliver. I felt as though I had shattered dreams. We walked to get some lunch in Cafe on the Corner, and I had hoped a free for all on ordering would have been able to soften the blow. It didn’t, not even a little. Milkshakes didn’t help either. Fun & Fails of Summer Holidays hey.

The kids wanted to say goodbye, so off to the vets we went. Sadly, this was not possible as she was too badly injured, and despite their resolute determination to bring Beatrice home to bury her, we were advised to have her cremated.

She is back home with us now and sprinkled near a beautiful silver birch, and I am sure she is looking down on us with a “mah” squeak and a smile. #BossBaby requested us all to sprinkle, and held a little service and said a little prayer. It was very beautiful, as was BB.

 

Sleep tight little one.

 

Sometimes, I guess life throws you lemons. I am a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. Whether that reason is obvious or not. In her short life Beatrice went from being found under a bin to being a super loved. Although, she wasn’t up for the dressing up quite as much as #BossBaby. Who has very much taken this the hardest of us all. A self confessed crazy cat lady, she misses her Ninja Kitten heaps. 

Slightly secretly, as I am not openly that much of  a cat lady (notice how I omitted crazy? That my loves is guaranteed) I miss her too. My wallpaper is in ribbons, curtains are ruined, the carpets eaten, even the beds have been peed on, but we were getting there. Even if my house was in tatters.

Tabitha is getting used to being a solo Ninja, and have no fear, the wallpaper assassin is still at large!

Shine bright BB,

The Art of Parenting

The Art of Parenting

The Art of Parenting

The Art of Parenting. How is there an art to parenting? Like, I make sure Team Twiglet are fed, watered and clothed, does that make me an artiste? Is it my flair for entertaining voices in the bath? Or perfecting the ever so important Mum Glare when the kids are turning into possessed Tasmanian devils in the cereal isle? Either way, I’m not convinced there is an art to it.

Same Shit, Different Day.

We are on week 5 of the epically long Summer Holidays, and I think all of us are beginning to lose a marble or two. Artistic it most definitely is not!

There are so many hints and parenting tips for you to absorb in the magical world wide web, it is pretty much an Idiots Guide to Parenting.   

Team Twiglet, wet play. Parenting Fails and Pigtails. The Art of Parenting.

Except, the main thing that seems to be sparse in the advice for parents of babies to teens alike, is this:

The fact that each individual soul that walks this planet, is unique.

What I may find funny for example, could be offensive to the person on my left, but mildly amusing to the person on my right. Yet despite their indifference, I am rolling around on the floor in a fit of giggles, because it tickled me pink.

Quote No One is you and that is your super power. The Art of Parenting. Parenting Fails and Pigtails

So, whilst there is a fountain of knowledge out here in the massive technological universe, I suggest to try to take each Parenting Styles or Preschool Parenting Advice or any other of the millions of parenting related titles, with a proverbial pinch of salt.

No two humans are the same, there is no one else who is you. And as the quote states, it really is a super power.

I spent some time figuring out who I am this year, with the help of Martha Beck and it has been an amazing exercise that I thoroughly recommend. Personalities are so complex, sometimes it is hard to figure out who you are, let alone any one else. 

Its a Twin Thing

I say the above based on limited, but genuine experience. Having been launched into parenting on a nappy filled rocket, we welcomed twins almost a decade ago. My pregnancy was complexed due to multiple reasons. Primarily cancer + pregnancy isn’t a great combo, but we’ve made it thus far regardless.  

Thing 1 for example, would only sleep on her front*, which is against all advice. But she would cry and cry on her back yet slept soundly on her front. Where as Thing 2, would only sleep on his back.

A minute apart in age, a world apart in personality and preferences. 

Comparing when you have twins is pretty much a mortal sin, but somewhat inevitable. Having two children grown in the same womb, sharing the same conditions and entering the world at almost exactly the same time, leads to some natural comparisons. If Thing 1 was winding better, I would try and figure out the perfect technique to use on Thing 2. I had completely lost the understanding that they were indeed entirely separate entities. I now know, each and every child is as different as the advice available to trawl through.

Whilst I wouldn’t swap our parenting baptism of fire, I am grateful they are somewhat self sufficient these days. The twins have even started to make their own breakfasts! Team Twiglet continue to amaze me each and every day. Thats not to say they don’t push my buttons, argue and invariably cry multiple times a day. For my sins, I am a shouter. Despite my best efforts a few years ago to give up shouting for lent, the Summer Holidays aren’t all that easy to navigate. It has however decreased in volume and frequency now they are now old enough (ish) to reason with, and I no longer have to wrestle a crocodile to remove yet another piccalilli shit storm!  

The Art of Parenting?

I feel, should there be an Art of Parenting, that someone, somewhere needs to take ownership and filter out the tosh that is floating around these binary 0’s and 1’s. 

There are too many people who seem to know the best and apparent only way of parenting correctly. I however do not. I believe we each parent the best possible way we can, and the way I do it, is no better or more correct than the way you do it.

And my attempt is most definitely is not Art,

*The current guidelines recommend an infant to sleep on their backs, I was aware that this was against midwife regulations, but as a sleep deprived mummy of twins, I got to the stage of if it works, it works. I spent many nights in restless slumber checking on her, the mum guilt was rife. She still sleeps on her tummy, bum high and wrapped up like The Hungry Caterpillar.

I do not however recommend or endorse other people ignoring these well researched guidelines. 

Top Ten – Parenting Fail

Top Ten – Parenting Fail

Top Ten Parenting Fails

What is in a name? A clue to the nature of the person perhaps? Or to the purpose of a waffler like me on that little thing known as The World Wide Web. As a person and as a mother, I have had some instances where I have made an epic Parenting fail, many of which make for excellent inspiration when writing Parenting Fails & Pigtails. Below is an attempt at a top ten, but because I know this road we lead is so meandering and eventful, I would like to state now, that there will be many more life happenings to add to this list. It is by no means exhaustive. In no particular order, I give you my top ten parenting fluff ups:

Parenting Fail: Drunken Antics

I spent the week prior to finding out I was expecting, Uni Drunk in Valencia with my Spanish bestie and any other fool who would drink gallons of vodka and lemonade on a random Tuesday. It was epic. There are photos that only surface to embarrass us, and it was dubbed my Spanish Hen Do. I was so worried after I had peed on the stick that I had poisoned the baby, I went to the doctors, to own up.

Fortunately, I was reassured I was not the first, and won’t be the last Mummy-to-be to find out they were pregnant after a tipple to two. I perhaps didn’t paint an entirely truthful picture of the week leading up to my beautiful two blue lines, for fear of sounding like an irresponsible human being. I have come to terms with the fact I am indeed, an irresponsible human being. But with practice, persistence and a bucket load of fails, we are navigating this journey together, learning on the job if you will.

Child inflicted indecent exposure

In our infinite wisdom, we offered to drive a friends car down to Italy for them for after their wedding, with out then one year old twins. What were we thinking? On the upside, we decided to make a holiday out of it for a few days. Having traveled by car, we checked in, changed and headed out for a well needed bite to eat and exceptionally large glass of wine. When in Rome, it would be rude not to.

The twins were tots, but older than they looked as premmies often are. It was one of the first holidays we had taken since becoming a family of 4, and my inexperience became quite literally visible for ALL to see. I put my sundress on, and off we went. I hadn’t taken into account the fact that it was strapless, and that Thing 1 was in the pulling stage of life.

Those little, tiny, razor sharp fingers got themselves nicely wrapped round the dress, and in one flail movement, the  post baby boobies were out for all to see. Best bit, she waited until I was facing a rather loud, German Stag Do before offering my less than full fun bags for the world to see. Thanks kid. I am not sure how, and I am not sure when, but payback is going to happen. Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Baby Brain Bungle

I hope I am not the only parent to do this. Any sentence that starts off like that should come with a disclosure, because now I am super worried, this might just be a Me fail, rather than a common parenting mishap. It was nursery pick up for the twins, I signed in and nipped to the loo. I sat there thinking, gosh, Ive not felt the baby move much today….SHIT THE BAAABBBBBYYYYYY. Yep, fast asleep, in her car seat in the back of the car.

Sorry kiddo, it wasn’t personal. 

Parenting Fail: Swing Low Sweet Chariot

Boys will be Boys. If there was ever a list of expressions to utilise, that would have to be on it. Its as though there is some built in DNA for a boy to do (stupid) boy stuff. Thing 2 was playing with a friend who had recently had his first golf lesson. Now, I love my son with all my heart, but he can be a bit of a doofus sometimes. He lacks the ability to see and reaction to actions, mind you, so does his Dad so Im not sure why Im surprised. He excitedly stood to watch the practise swing, so he knew how to hold the club.

Fair enough I hear you say. But he stood over his buddies shoulder, in perfect alignment with the end of his swing, therefore the end of his club. En route to A&E, the pair became a comedy double act. Telling everyone and anyone that would listen the story. I clearly had not been listening because I thought he was hit in the head by a swing. As in the park kinda swing. Not as in a golf swing. Cue a concerned looking nurse when he saw the flicker of my eyes upon full comprehension of the facts.

Dude, don’t stand next to someone swinging a metal stick, it never ends well, that bald patch on the side of your head should act as a sufficient reminder.

Parenting Fail: Potty Training for  Boys.

Me “Do you need the toilet Josh?”

J “No, Mummy”

Me “Are you sure?”

J “Yes Mummy”

Me “YOU ARE PEEING ON MY FOOT”

Parenting Fail: Multi-Storey Mishaps

Ernie The Fun Bus, how I miss you. The fastest milk cart in the west. You were a gem of a car. Held together mostly by spilt juice and melted chocolate buttons, but you served us well. You were however, a bugger to take into a multi-storey car park. And I was having a terrible day anyway. Mid organising my sister-in-laws hen do, we had nipped out for a few, last minute things. It was manic.

It is not humanly possible to “nip” anywhere with 3 kids under the age of 3. Add to that, the fact that it was a multi-storey car park and I drove a van styled airport taxi, you can imagine the stress levels just trying to park, let alone getting in or out of the car. Jobs successfully achieved, we piled back in the fun bus, firmly putting my SIL younger sister off kids – for life. And then World War Three broke out. The screaming, shouting and general tantrum-ing fuelled a knee jerk bollocking from yours truly. Followed by a very load and distinctive sssccccrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaattttcccchhhhhhhh and within 30 seconds, half the door was missing. Actually half the side of the car was missing, but tomato tomato.

And no, I didn’t think to stop and pick the bits up Hubs, because the shame and embarrassment of being labelled a “typical female driver” was too much for this Fun Bus wielding feminist to handle.

Toddler encouraged, Baby led weaning

Breakfast in The Mad House is always a loud and bustling affair. Slightly less civilised than a room full of kids jacked on purple fruit shoots. It is bedlam. Thing 1 was helping #BossBaby have her morning milk. Only she thought it was unfair for her to only be having milk, so shared her cereal with the 6 week old. Neither appreciated her efforts, which ended in us all in tears, hungry and a little soggier than planned.

Parenting Fail: Inappropriate Pyjama Party Viewing

The Hubs has a habit of not checking the rating on a film before we sit down to watch it. As PJ parties are a weekly occurrence in the Mad House, we have swiftly run out of remotely interesting films to watch with appropriate ratings. So most of the time, The Hubs “assures” me it is a family friendly view. I have learnt that this basically means he has ignored what ever the review said because he thinks Adam Sandler is THE MAN.

As a result, there are times the we have to “quizz” it. Only for it to get stuck on the worst possible action shot, the one we could see coming but not appropriate for the small folk. At all. Panic ensued, I couldn’t get it on, off, forwards, backwards, it wouldn’t do anything. It froze on Jennifer Anistons very effective enjoyment face. Thing 1 “Its ok Mummy, we know grown ups get hot and sweaty when they cuddle” I died a little bit.

Parenting Fail: Daddy Day Care

#BossBaby was a late talker. She didn’t really say anything until she could form full sentences, other than the usual Mama and Dada noises. Cute as a button and hasn’t stopped talking since. Unfortunately who she referred to as Daddy, was in fact my friends husband. If The Hubs took her out, she would quietly mouth to the nearest granny “Help Me” or better still, “you’re not my Daddy”.

Thankfully, most old ladies were either hard of hearing or slow on the uptake, so he didnt have to answer too many awkward questions over a small child proclaiming no relation to him. This continued for two whole years. That kid was literally born to be on stage. (should any body be questioning her heritage, she is without a doubt a fully licensed member of Team Twiglet).

The Airport

Standard airport security queue after a late night flight, add in 3 hangry kids, all under the age of 3. You can imagine the stress levels in the air, they were practically palpable. The twins were riding their trunkies, but the queue suddenly started to move more quickly. I could feel my heart rise, and almost smell the toast I was dreaming of. I dutifully started towing one of the trunkies, only Thing 2 wasn’t holding on.

The clonk of his head on the tiled floor was so loud a universal Oooooooo was audible from the queue that surrounded him. Then there is that awful moment you are holding your breath, praying for the scream seemed to go on for DAYS. It was the worst slo-mo ever, I have never been more grateful for a screaming toddler in my life. I am eternally sorry Dude, it was one hell of an egg!

I hope that this little snap shot into some of my finer moments has made you smile with relief that no matter what fails you have experienced, there is a special niche of fails that could only happen to me,

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