My Most Epic
Parenting Fails of 2019
As the year is galloping towards completion, I thought we should take a trip down memory lane and revisit some of my most epic Parenting Fails of 2019. As I have a panache to fail in/with epic style, it has been somewhat difficult to narrow it down to fit in a document smaller than the Magna Carta.
But, as Christmas is getting too close for comfort, try I must! Whilst it is only a 7 month diary thus far, it does give a taster of what’s to come. Poor Team Twiglet having me as a Mum!
My Most Epic
Parenting Fails of January 2019
Oh January, the month we all dread. The month when we batten down the hatches and hope the ever mounting credit card of doom can hold off exploding until March.
Or, the month where Mama Bear here needs to remember to put Mr sodding Elf back in to hiding.
Not only did I forget, I had to hurl said Mr Elf into the depths of the loft, because I didn’t bloody realise the random bag #BossBaby was opening AT MY REQUEST, contained the magic chuffing creature that was supposed to evaporate into thin air and then miraculously reappear on the 1st December.
Aw, the month I first graced this planet with my wit, humour and beauty. What a lucky bunch you are. This year, I endeavoured to make pancakes. And give up Diet Coke for lent. I succeeded at neither.
Pancakes are not as easy as they look. Combined with severe aspartame withdrawal, and not a golden syrup bottle in sight, (despite alllmoossst buying a bottle and second guessing myself at least 7 times), the whole affair was a shitter. Thank god for the wonderful Rhiannon who swooped in and saved the day, making the whole pancake making thing look like an absolute doddle. She has super powers I am sure of it. She would give Mary Poppins a run for her money! Speaking of which, have you seen how saucy Dame Julie Andrews can be? I was quite shocked/secretly proud!
Awwww 7 years ago #BossBaby exploded onto the scene and completed Team Twiglet. Fast forward to 2019 and it was quite literally close to being the biggest write off of the year.
It was World Book Day, and “we” were tasked to make a character from “our” favourite book.
Out of a potato.
Bloody marvellous. My negotiating skills are second too none, even if I do say so myself, but shit me, getting three kids to agree on one character is not advised. So, the biggest kid of all (me) stamped her feet the loudest and “we” decided on Simba. It was sketchy whether The Lion King had ever been a book, but amazon didn’t let me down, and Potato Simba was born.
I did that Mummy thing where you pretend to just be helping. The “oh no darling, maybe do it like this” that soon progresses into “no, not like that darling” progresses to “no, look, noooo…guys come on, not like that” finally culminating in “JUST GIVE ME THE POTATO!”. Growing up I swore I would never be that parent, even first time mumming to twins, I was never going to be that person. I lied.
An almost Parenting Fail of April 2019
On a more serious note, April sucked. #BossBaby was not at all well, and despite our best efforts, couldn’t even keep sips of water down for over 72 hours. As it seems is always the case, Team Twiglet don’t get properly ill until Friday evening, because who would want to go to a GP if you can go and see nee-naws, and sadly in some cases, even ride in them.
After a call to NHS 111, Tinks marched herself in to the hospital and was only mediocre unwell on all her stats. So much so, the initial suggestion was to head home and call back up in 12 hours. But, that nagging mothers instinct made me push for her to be given a proper once over. She just wasn’t herself at all.
Again her stats weren’t all that bad, but thank the universe for a very wonderful, knowledge filled student nurse who as a last test before we went home checked her blood sugar. It was so low it was dangerous – in fact I only learnt how dangerous after it took over 4 hours to get her out of the danger zone and a further 12 hours to get her stable. And all I could do was watch.
Always trust your instinct.
Thankfully, it seems to have been an isolated event that arose from a nasty bought of gastroenteritis, but to any fellow parents out there reading this, please always follow that instinct of yours. It will never let you down.
My Most Epic Parenting Fails of May 2019
An entire decade flashed through May as we celebrated/commiserated ten, long, occasionally fighty, but mostly happy years being a Mr & Mrs. It sometimes amazes me that neither of us are incarcerated for murder/our own benefit, but so far, so good. In celebration of both being married and avoiding arrest for this long, we had a little do at The Mad House.
My fail for May is less parenting based and more wife based. I spent months planning our little soirée, everything from the jars on the tables to the paper flowers, you could even find me relaying the patio, so I am going to go with there being a far bit of effort put in. In the spirit of present giving, I decided to arrange a surprise for The Hubs. This came in the form of a super cool magician – Magic Matt.
He was absolutely epic, from card tricks to stealing some mighty fine watches, his talents are unending. The only issue was, I had relied on an unfounded belief that if The Hubs couldn’t remember the face of a family friend he also wouldn’t remember Matt. I was wrong. He can’t remember my birthday but he can remember the face of a dude in a suit at a wedding of over 200 people 5 years ago. Typical.
As Team Twiglet and I are an avid chocolate fans, Easter is our favourite time of year. Yes, my most epic parenting fails of 2019 in June began life in April. We live by relatively strict consumption rules Monday – Friday, because I am a misery arse who endeavours to raise healthy-ish albeit slightly feral small folk. As a result, come June there were still some bunnies hiding in The Mad House.
A Red Wine Sunday came around and the girls and I decided we should have a little bake off whilst the boys were at rugby. We would have been right at home in that tent Paul, no soggy bottom from these bakers!
Off to the baking cupboard we went and found numerous useful eggs, bunnies, biscuits and golden syrup (I bought it every time I saw it since Easter, we now have shit loads, better late than never!), so a rocky-ish road was born. Which definitely only fits in the “ish” bit of healthy. But recipe-less ultra keen small folk and some banging* tunes and we were off! Bakers, Bake!
Then the fail came, sleepless nights and a fear that the Easter Bunny may never deliver to The Mad House again.
A picture speaks a thousand words:
My Most Epic Parenting Fails of July 2019
As Team Twiglet is 2/3 female and I am a rule breaking mofo** we all have a tradition of joining the “Pink Hair, Don’t Care” Club over the summer holidays. This has worked well because we usually spend some of the summer in sunnier climes. All whilst The Hubs stays in the UK to do some hard graft.
By hard graft I mean he has his clothes washed for him by his mum, eats out with his mates at least 3 times a week, and eats off paper plates the rest of the time to save washing up. Yet I am on “holiday” trying to do a weekly shop with my trusty granny trolley flanked by three hooligans on scooters, but yes, hard graft it is.
He isn’t therefore around to see it our hair when it is at its pinkest. Well timed usage of pink shampoo vs normal shampoo and all is well in the world by the time he gets off his next flight.
Unfortunately, we haven’t been away this summer because my stupid nerve decided to get cross with being cut into (I see its point) and I wasn’t well enough to fly post op. So, in order to entertain the small folk we did various fun things together as we would usually do in the sunshine. But we had do navigate the rain, so indoor fun it was.
Off we popped to the hairdressers and a light pink toner was washed through the girls hair, much the same shade as the shampoo we normally use. A wash in, wash out principled colouring technique. But boy did it come out pink. Fabulously so, but even though I am down with the kids, it did take some getting used to.
As the weeks went by, mine faded perfectly. I even had it done a handful more times before a smurf styled fail put me in detention. But the girls hair, well didn’t. At all. So as the summer played out before us and September edged ever nearer, it dawned on me that this could be a school policy violation. Whilst as super cool as I am (not) teachers still scare the shit out of me, even though I am apparently meant to be a parent.
Sure enough, September arrived, and no matter how well plaited or conveniently coiffed their hair was, there was no denying they were still full time members of the “Pink Hair, Don’t Care” Club.
At least they owned it. #BossBaby thought “Rebel” was a naughty word when a friend innocently complimented her on her undeniably pink locks. She bided her time and lay in wait for the right moment to avenge this crime and stamped, with vigour on this poor kids brand new, and still very white, trainers. All for paying her a complement.
Note to self: swear more in front of children so they have access to a full range of vocabulary and can differentiate between an insult and a compliment with ease.
Oh no wait, I don’t think school would approve of that.
I hope you’ve enjoyed a little trip down memory lane, and have had a laugh along the way, until next time,
*are tunes still banging these days? Retro cool? Or just old and out of date?
**you’re impressed I’m down with the kids I know – too cool for school, thats me ……