Published on August 21st, 2019 | by voxx0
If you are reading this (I hope you are), I swear that I’m not as angry as I probably sound. I say this because I bet you don’t hear me when I laugh with Diego or tell him I love him, yet I’m certain you hear me bellowing when I regularly lose my rag.
It doesn’t help that it’s hot and the windows are open; I’ve tried hissing but it doesn’t have the same effect. It’s the summer holidays, and I’m being followed around by a chatterbox with extra energy, a smaller version of myself all day long. Trust me, I do love him. But he gets on my nerves.
I try hard not to yell. It just doesn’t work. I’ve given the ‘peaceful parenting technique’ – which is a calm method of parenting where voices are never raised, bribes are never used, and somehow the child’s behaviour is managed and understood – a good go. I lasted less than a day. So basically, it’s fiction. Or the parents are saints. Or they’re tipping triple shots of vodka into their coffees. (Oooh potential ideas).
Having said that, we’ve made it half the way through the holidays and I haven’t been traumatised, yet (Yay, me!). We’ve had a great time swimming in the sea, exploring the park, getting lost in a maze in the middle of a rainstorm, arguing in the cinema because I’m enjoying the children’s’ film that he’s talking through, and attending various activity days. We waited in a queue for two hours so Diego could have his face painted, and by the time we’d made it to the front I felt like I deserved my face painting too. Bring on the next three weeks. I’ll try not to shout.
The irritated, sober mum.
- By Boneata Bell