I’m not sure exactly when it was that my eldest daughter turned into an actual dictator, but I’m pretty sure it was close to her third birthday. Suddenly, I could ruin her (and my) day by seemingly benign actions. You know the kind of thing…..I cut her panini in half and she “WANTED IT WHOLE MUMMY” *excessive sobbing, falling to floor, shrieking, wailing, lying on floor on back and flapping. More sobbing, shouting etc etc., resulting in me having to drag her out of a café embarrassed while diners look on, appalled.*
You get the idea. I use that example because I think that was the exact scenario that launched her foray into the role of irrational, horrendous, threenage mogul.
These days it’s at least a weekly occurrence. It’s like walking on eggshells. Never quite sure what will bring on an episode of the small miniature tyrant. It could be that the skirt she wants to wear is in the wash. Or perhaps she “HATES THOUSAND ISLAND DRESSING MUUUUUMMY”, *uuuuuuuuurgggggh excessive sobbing, falling to floor, shrieking, wailing, lying on floor on back and flapping. More sobbing, shouting* etc etc. I use those as examples because they’ve both happened.
The thing is, instead of trying to rise above all of this, and write it off as ridiculous, my husband and I actually scrabble around, bowing down to the Commander, doing anything,…ANYTHING we can to avoid another panini-not-in-half-but-whole-gate. It’s outrageous. Sometimes we have to take a step back and just bloody LOOK AT OURSELVES. If her skirt is dirty and she makes a suggestion that she wants it we find ourselves panicking. “She wants the skirt *panicked looks*….quick get it out the washing basket!” “But it’s all damp and covered in baked bean juice” “JUST WET WIPE IT! For god’s sake just GET IT. Please?!! It’s not worth it. You and I both know it’s NOT WORTH IT” *begging expression*.
Sometimes one of us will feel strong and try to fight the oppressor. And almost immediately regret it. The other will step in.
“what’s happening? What’s with this shrieking? Why is she flapping on the floor in a ball of fury?”
“She wanted crisps with her dinner, I said that was ridiculous and that no, she couldn’t have any”
“I’ll go and get the crisps”
I am writing this blog because just yesterday I found myself sinking to a new low under the rule of the mini dictator. I’d been pushing her and her sister up a huge hill in the buggy and she dropped a stone from the plum she was eating. We went about 5 steps before she complained. Well, there was no way I was turning round and going down the hill just to push them (her 2 year old sister was there too) up again to get a sodding plum stone. That was my first mistake. She went on and on and on as I trudged and sweating up that hill. She wanted THAT plum stone. No another plum stone would do. She was “SAD MUMMY! You have made me “REALLY SAD”. By now she was almost inconsolable. There was snot everywhere. It went on. On and on and on. The 2 year old sat there bemused. “oh god, this is going to be YOU soon isn’t it” I thought, as I tried to block out the mini dictator. She was not letting up. She was succeeding….she was making me think of ways..ANY WAYS GODDAMIT that I could get that sodding plum stone back. I found myself promising her I would find a way. That’s when I wrote it -the text message of parenting shame to my husband.
“Daisy dropped a plum stone. Bottom of Ditchling Rd. Near office block. Left hand side. PLEASE find it on way home if you can. Don’t ask”
He didn’t need to ask obviously. He knew. He bloody knew.
During these times, I find gin helps. Check out our fabulous Mother's Ruin hamper, among many other booze filled treats (and a few without too) here.