Household Rule 42, all persons being mean or sarcastic to the mother may leave the house. It’s a simple rule, one that doesn’t need enforced often and on the odd occasions it’s wheeled out, it’s subsequently ignored.
The biggest part of the problem is the kids have a ‘blunder’ board. A great big blackboard where they merrily record any foolish things said by any member of the household.
I seem to be most quoted. I cannot quite fathom why my name is on their the most. It started off with them having a week each and now it’s one big massive free for all. A board of shame. A testament to teasing. A monument immortalising frayed tempers – well at least until the chalk is wiped off.
‘You’re under my chair you lolloping great big long-legged looney’. One of my finest apparently and it’s right up there in blue chalk for all to see. They even sign off underneath who wrote it so there is no denying it.
It was an outburst of mine after stubbing my toes several time on something under my chair at the table.
Middle kid was sitting minding her own business opposite me but as she’s the height of her father now her legs are considerably longer than mine. She was the culprit responsible for my injuries and hadn’t even the time to move her feet before biggest kid had it written on the board.
Gentle reminders of a happy home
Part of me is tempted to take photos to remind me of things said. They are funny as opposed to cruel. Gentle reminders of a happy home, a safe place where nick names are used with affection and familiarity instead of taunting.
At least this is what I tell myself while I mentally set a reminder to enquire as to how much counselling costs these days.
The frequency with which I jumble words or forget mid-sentence what I’m talking about is quite alarming, I used to believe it was ‘baby brain’ but seeing as the bairn will turn 13 this summer, I doubt I can wheel this out as an excuse much longer.
The kind of mother I thought I’d be…
I always believed when we had kids, I’d be the kind of mother who would keep records, journals of all the things we did. Funny moments. Milestones. Achievements etc. I didn’t even manage to complete the standard issue ‘red book’ past middle kid, never mind keeping a diary.
To my eternal shame, I use my personal social media accounts to log photos and write wee notes in the hope having a place to look back on and recount stories.
My mother was a great one for keeping written records. She wrote to my Granny every day when we were on holiday, just a summary of events, and once home she reclaimed the letters as a keepsake.
My mum wrote to me every single day
She also wrote to me every single day in my first year at university to ensure I had mail and news from home. I’m of an age where uni halls had one phone between 200 people and being in the furthest room from the phone, it was a hit or a miss if someone came and got me when they rang.
I’m unsure if she’d approve of social media as a means of remembering but I do know she would have enjoyed the photos, if not the profanities.
More modern day means of communication may be seen by some as intrusive, challenging even but I believe they’ve played their part, especially during recent times.
At least we’ve not spent lockdown waiting on the phone box
For distant families to keep in touch and feel involved in some small way. Facetime, Zoom, texts etc can never replace the joy of meeting in person, but at least we haven’t suffered through lockdown waiting on the post box to rattle to hear news of loved ones.
As lockdown begins to ease slightly, I desperately hope we all remember this.
As a small business, we’ve worked hard to keep staff and customers safe, I can only let you know how shattered we are, getting ready to reopen in some capacity. How nervous we all are, how excited to see your sorely missed faces. We are all anxious.
Go easy on us and please be kind as you go back out and about