This post is part of my Honesty Column series. Myself and Barbara Good of The New Good Life come up with a parenting related topic each week and have to be as honest as possible. This week’s topic is ‘The Whinge-a-thon.’
Some time before 8am the other day, lying in bed with me, Miss Five asked for something, was told it wasn’t going to happen, and responded with
“Aaaawww (rising inflection). You NEVER listen to me.”
Roll over and bury face in pillow.
A couple of hours later, as I drove her to her friend’s house, having realised it was not going to be quality time that we would be spending together if she stayed with me that morning, we listened to ‘Let It Go’ in the car. Because we listen to it all the time, and the rest of the soundtrack too, and considering that the edge had already been hacked off my morning patience (oh how my husband would laugh to see those two words together!), I changed the music to something I wanted to listen to without consulting her first, which resulted in
“Aaaawww (rising again). You NEVER let me have Frozen!”
Grip steering wheel. Breathe out.
I had to go to the supermarket late the other night because I had very little to put in the kids’ lunch boxes the next day. I ended up buying them some packaged stuff they never usually get. Hey, it’s the end of the year. They can have a treat. Or two. There was no coloured popcorn left in Miss Five’s lunchbox when she got home from kinder. Upon opening the pantry, asking to have some coloured popcorn and being told that no, she’d had enough today, I copped
“But you NEVER give me coloured popcorn!”
Close pantry door. Turn back and walk to sink. Absorb self in washing of last night’s roasting pan.
Miss Five had a friend over the play this afternoon. The same friend whose house I deposited her at for at least half a day the week before last. They had a lovely time playing Frozen, dancing on the trampoline, and eating ‘sometimes foods.’ At bedtime tonight, in an attempt to stay awake just a bit longer by trying to engage me in conversation, Miss Five informed me
“But, I NEVER get to go to Molly’s house!”
Ignore statement but sigh inwardly. Inform Miss Five with very firm voice that she must go to sleep. Immediately.
Life is tough when you’re NEVER allowed to do anything. It’s also tough when you live with someone who experiences this trauma on an extremely regular basis.
A couple of weeks ago on a Monday night, I went to book club. We have an excellent little group. We drink wine. We rarely bitch about our husbands (or kids) because we are too involved in conversations about books, movies and tv series. I told Miss Five that’s where I was going, she said
“Aaaawww, (rising voice, sagging shoulders, down turned mouth) but you NEVER let me go to book club.”
Close front door gently. Walk to car. Enjoy silence.
No, my dear, I don’t. And I NEVER will. Ever.
Image is Ban Symbol by Vince