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Wednesday, 20 May 2009

The Bad Mummy Chronicles

I have been a bad Mummy. I have made a show of my son. I have scarred him for life and he now considers me to be a "BumBum-Head" and does not intend to be my friend until "Twenty Million and Ten". Yesterday Finley (he of the eloquent insults) had a friend around for tea. I obeyed his strict instructions not to feed George anything that couldn't be served with tomato ketchup, baked cakes, tidied his room, hid his Mummy Bear, and presented myself in a suitably inoffensive Mumsy fashion. Two angelic little boys skipped home from school, and all was well with the world. Feeling a little bit pleased with myself, I scurried around the kitchen arranging a football themed tray of treats and juice, complete with bright red fairycakes in honour of Liverpool F.C. And in I swooped and presented them with a flourish for which I was rewarded with complete and utter, apparently appalled, silence. George it seemed, supported Everton (the blues!) and not a worse insult could I have set upon his head-which didn't stop him eating three little cakes, but which sent me plummeting downwards in my son's estimation to the degree that he was almost hissing in mortified, whispery apology as he dragged his cherry munching friend up the stairs to his bed-room... And there for all to see, was the second horror of the day. Many moons ago, I took it into my mad head to buy my poorly little boy a Ben 10 duvet. Those of you who know me, will know that bringing something so green and ugly into my home was the kind of sacrifice I would only make for the curly haired little love of my life. But on and on he went, so buy it I did, dressed his bed with it and delivered one sleepy little babba up the stairs to the kind of cartoon heaven that all too quickly turned into a nightmare when he looked at me like I had finally lost my marbles and demanded the immediate reinstatement of his favorite dancing duvet, and informed me that on pain of death would I ever, ever put that scary Ben 10 duvet back on. So I didn't. I sent it to duvet heaven and considered that the end of the matter. Until yesterday. When the thunder of a plaster casted leg came banging down the stairs and insults were hurled left, right and centre, the thread of which seemed to be that this was the day I should have read his mind and made the bed with the dratted Ben 10 duvet while George was visiting, before stripping it off again in time for bed. Ooops. Still it could have been worse. Imagine if there had been a doll in his bedroom! Hell's bell's there was. And this doll, once mine, and now occupying a place on Finley's precious things shelf (Uncle Simons football trophy, lavender bag he likes when he's snuffly, robot made of cardboard boxes, globe that was his first ever vintage buy etc...) is much adored by him, so in my race to win the bestest Mommy competition I failed to notice the doll, concentrated on baking naughty cakes and in the process hammered the final nail in my coffin. While gorgeous little George built the finest lego tower I have ever seen he informed me that he had eaten baked beans "once before", (but would prefer them served with a side order of pasta if you don't mind) and told me that his Mummy made great cakes called "cake mix", my little boy wandered around with tears welling in his eyes, living in fear of George revealing to all and sundry and more pertinently the bigger boys in year six, that Finley is the kind of baby girl who plays with dolls... I have fallen off my pedestal haven't I? I am a BumBum head. And my little boy is growing up.

11 comments:

Ouissi said...

Oh no Alison ;( Its funny how as Mothers we are expected to read minds!!

I love his bed and shelf, so much nicer than Ben 10, and laughed at the cake mix comment!

The football cakes remind me of the time I took Jacob shopping for football socks..in Liverpool. He supports Manchester United and I took him to the only football shop I know of (I loath the game so do not pay attention). He refused to even enter the Liverpool shop even when I tried to tell him all red socks are the same...oops!! Actually I was sort of glad as I would never have chosen to go into a football shop ;P

I am a terrible Aunt ;)

Alison May said...

See that is exactly the kind of comment I would make... all red socks are the same!Lol.x

debi @ life in my studio said...

Well, unfortunately this isn't the only time you'll be a bum bum head! hehehe Children really keep us hopping...and guessing!

Lisa said...

Poor you and poor Finn! It is such a shame that children feel pressured to conform at such an early age. The world is just so commercialised and some children have it drummed into them by well meaning parents from day one. Down with gaudy disney colours and up with individuality and traditional styles! (The cakes look Deeee-licious though!! Mmm Mmmmm)

Mrs. Cozy Home said...

Oh I so remember doing that to my own mother...
...but once the new, special, cool friend is gone, you'd be devastated if your comfy blanket and favorite toys actually WERE put away...

Gena said...

Oh that was so funny! and so familiar!I have to undertake a marathon tidying up spree before Lucy has a friend over,and I consider my house to be fairly tidy!but there are certain things that have to be put away,like the framed photo of Clark Gable lol!

Sasha said...

Ha ha - silly you, bum bum head! How funny..... It was at this exact same age my daughter actually pretended not to know who her father was when he turned up at her first school disco. I was gobsmacked as I watched her sheer bare faced tenacity in completely blanking him out - even as he came towards her waving and grinning excitedly at her (he obviously felt she should be thrilled at his appearance!) She actually moved to the other side of the room and refused to acknowledge his existence or make eye contact with him, whilst continuing to dance and giggle with her little friends. My poor husband was heart broken..... I suppose my being doubled up in hysterical laughter about it didn't help...

In her defence, he IS an embarassing bum bum head most of the time!

Leslie Anne said...

Oh Alison, no you didn't! Well, then welcome to the ranks of BumBum-Head mothers! It's no fun when it's you that it's happening to, though. Poor, poor Finn - do tell, did George make his life miserable afterward, or did it just pass over as if nothing happened? I'm sure I'm not the only one wondering! Leslie Anne

The Machinist's Wife said...

Hi Alison

I have an award for your lovely blog. If you would like, please come and pick it up at http://machinistswife.blogspot.com/

All the very best,
Helen - The Machinist's Wife

Brenda said...

Oh, motherhood! I have raised two daughters. Yep, been there. Now mine are 30 and 34, and I am 52. Enjoying fully the non-restraints of doing-what-I-want without having the impending peril of wondering what is in their silly little heads on any particular day. Yes, they're little loves. But when they're grown and out of the nest, you do heave a non-motherly sigh of relief.
Brenda

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