The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 9

Considering I haven't chronicled my parenting faux pas since September 2008 you could be forgiven for thinking that either,

a. I have obviously learned from my mistakes and reached new supreme levels of parenting,

or b. I was just too lazy to blog about what a failure I am.

I know what you're thinking.......

It has to be B.

And you'd be right.

Here is a sterling example of how I haven't come any closer to achieving Super-Parent status.

I was 37 weeks pregnant.

We went to get the few (mostly pink) things left on our baby list.

Me, Rob, Thomas, Eli.

We lost Eli.

Here.

At one of the biggest shopping malls in all of England.

It turns out buying tiny pink clothing doesn't excite Eli.

He wandered off.

We panicked.

I ran the length of the place in my heavily pregnant state dragging a 4 year old in flip flops behind me. (Do you have any idea how hard it is for a 4 year old to sprint in flip flops? Or how amusing a 37 weeks pregnant woman looks running?)

After the longest phone conversation known to man between the customer services lady and the head of security it was confirmed he'd been located.

I nearly squeezed the life out of him.

And sadly it was in that moment that I realised that if that recipe of shock, panic and trauma coupled with the fastest running of my life didn't manage to dislodge that baby from my uterus then she was never gonna come out without being evicted.

Bummer.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 8

On our very leisurely stroll (is there any other speed in the company of a 3 year old?) back down the hill from school with Thomas in tow we have to pause at every single flower bearing weed we pass.

This wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't for the fact that most of the school are actually following us down the hill and Thomas walks considerably slower than them all. I am sure we are a common cause of frustration. (We must be annoying because slow walking infuriates me beyond measure, of course I have just traipsed up the hill to collect Thomas with Eli to push so all I am fit for at this point is a slow trundle downwards, so I can overlook it).

At every weed he stops and stoops down and very slowly picks me off a flower and hands it to me saying 'That's for you mummy', it is sweet I admit (plus these are the only flowers I ever receive so it'd be rude to be ungrateful). But by our journeys end I have more flowers (that are actually weeds) than I know what to do with.

On arriving home the other day I emptied the contents of my pocket into the bin by the door giving it very little consideration.

Later on Thomas approached me with the flowers in his hand and a look of grave concern on his face,

"My find these flowers in the bin mummy."

He looked so sad and almost betrayed that I did what I had to....

I lied!

"Oh no Thomas they must have fallen out of my pocket by accident into the bin, thank you so much for finding them for me."

He handed them back to me with a look that indicated that he'd accept my answer but that he wasn't completely convinced it was the actual truth.

I placed them on the desk and he frequently came to check they were still right there and not accidentally discarded.

I guess in future I'll just have to remember to conceal them a little bit better because I think he's getting to the age where he is suspicious I might not be 100% honest.

Dishonesty, now that's is something you have to be proud of teaching your kids (drips with sarcasm).

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 7

Yesterday I managed to leave a very important member of our family at the play gym. I don't know what I was thinking. It was not my best day.

My day started off innocently enough by going to my friend Lisa's house to give her a super quick blogging tutorial while our 4 kids mostly fought, wrestled and cried. Lisa suggested we go to the play gym to let the kids burn off some energy and how could I decline? This was after all our last opportunity to hang out properly before she forsakes us all and moves to Utah this weekend. So I agreed and off we went.

I should have known from all the crying, fighting and wrestling that we had already encountered that Eli wasn't at his sociable best. Within minutes of arriving he had decided to plough a big plastic car into a one year old (which he repeated again later). He also added pinching and hair pulling to his arsenal of attack. So after several apologies to several reasonable parents (thank goodness) I was beginning to imagine a life where it would be far better to stay indoors with my Grino child (Half Gorilla, half Rhino in case you were wondering) and not have to endure the endless humiliation of having to say, "I'm so sorry that he /pulled the hair of/pinched/ran over/ your child". It just doesn't make for a relaxing day out you know. But after several trips to the naughty spot (which is always a blast to do in a public place, it is a real crowd puller) and some lunch he was back to being normal happy Eli. The Eli he is 95% of the time. Now, that Eli is just wonderful. Personally I blame the Siswick temper for the other 5%.

After that we played happily and nicely and we eventually all headed home. Well what I thought was all of us. Now for those that either know Eli or have read my blog for a while you'll know about Eli and his Gee-Gee's. (You really need to click that link for the whole story) It is true, complete, perfect love.

If Eli ever wakes at night generally it is because he wants his dummy 'doe-doe' or his Penguin 'Gee-Gee'. We have several of these penguin pals. Can you tell them apart? I know you're thinking well yeah the one third from the left is a different colour entirely. But could you tell them apart in the dark? Even the grey ones?

Eli can. A few nights ago he woke up crying I went to comfort him. He asked for 'doe-doe', I obliged. He laid down. He requested 'Gee-Gee' I couldn't see which was which (he favours the one second left) and gave him one (he sleeps with like 9 of them) he instantly shouted NO in total disgust and threw the Penguin promptly out of bed. That process was repeated several times until I searched in the dark on my hands and knees for the supremo Gee-Gee before he would settle and finally go back to sleep.

When ever he is tired, upset or sad it is not us that comforts him. It is Gee-Gee. Gee-Gee is there when he wakes up in the morning and he is there when he goes to sleep. They are inseparable.

Well until I left him at the play gym that is.

While I went to work Rob had the unfortunate experience of realising that Gee-Gee was MIA at bedtime. Gee-Gee wasn't any of the places he usually would be. Eli was not happy. He went to bed for the first time ever without his beloved penguin pal. He was not smiling about it but he did it. I can only hope all his other penguins were some comfort to him in his time of need.

When I got home Rob told me about the catastrophe. I felt sick to the pit of my stomach all night. I knew Eli would wake in the night and he'd ask for Gee-Gee and I knew from my experience several nights before that he wouldn't be fooled into accepting another less special Gee-Gee in Supremo Gee-Gee's place.

He did wake up. He did request Gee-Gee and lucky for me on this occasion he didn't register that it wasn't his extra special friend and slumbered on.

But this morning at opening time I was at the play gym the second it opened and I have never seen joy such as I saw when the Grino and Gee-Gee were reunited.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 6

Can you imagine how bad it looks (not to mention super neglectful) to lose your recently broken armed child at the Children's Museum?

Can you imagine how pitiful and sad they would look sitting there with an arm in plaster at the desk waiting to be collected?

Can you imagine how the workers would look at you as if to say Why don't you love this child?

I can!

Apparently I have officially reached a new parenting low point.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 5

You know Thomas has always been an incredibly easy child (we actually thought this was normal until Eli came on the scene and clearly proved otherwise!) he's easy going, laid back, adaptable and regardless of whatever else is going on he tries to maintain a jolly demeanour. When he was five months old and the Siswick's hit Disney World in Florida en masse and he was thrust into the billion degree temperatures (in comparison to the UK anyhow) and forced to sit in his own sweat virtually naked for 19 days he did it all whilst looking ultra cute and with a big smile on his face. Even the change in time zones didn't phase this kid, he slept through the night whichever continent we were on. That's just Thomas.

The last four nights he's been waking up and whining/crying kind of in his sleep. I despise broken sleep more than anything so initially I wasn't so sympathetic. Firstly I tried to settle him but after the 4th time he woke me up in two hours I was incredibly nice to him but inside thinking 'GO TO SLEEP ALREADY!!!!!!', I thought it was most probably nightmares or something similar but amongst all the crying he never cared to elaborate so I never knew for sure what was going on. I just knew when he was sleeping, so was I and I was very happy!

Sunday night we continued with more of the same crying in a semi-conscious state, by now my sympathy was wearing even thinner (did I mention when I'm tired I am not a very nice person...at all?) and in an attempt to extract an explanation from him for his incredibly anti-social nocturnal behaviour I asked him if anything hurt. It did! His ear. Hooray! Not that I revel in the fact that my child is in pain but I do revel in the fact that there is some explanation for the lack of sleep I am getting. Pain after all is totally fixable. After administering a healthy dose of Ibuprofen he fell soundly asleep without a peep until the next morning. Yippee!!

Monday he said his ear was fixed and happily went to playgroup. I didn't give the earache another thought.

Then Monday night turned into a repeat of the the previous three nights. Except this time I had my ibuprofen to hand. He confirmed his ear hurt, one dose of ibuprofen later and a good nights slumber fell upon all in our household (with the exception of Eli, who decided to attempt to drive me insane). This morning again he said he felt fine but I made him an appointment at the doctor for 3PM just in case.

We went and had a fun morning at the play gym with our friends (apart from when a lady told me off because Eli pushed her daughter on two occasions, I really wanted to say 'well you're lucky he didn't bite her, lady!!' then I realised it was the mother of the girl Eli had previously bitten at this very play gym, so I just kept my mouth shut). So at 3PM I headed off to the doctor with my perfectly healthy child, feeling a bit embarrassed because he appeared completely well and I didn't want to be one of those mum's who harasses the doctor about every single sniffle. But also wanting more than anything an uninterrupted night of sleep. Is embarrassment such a big price to pay to be secure in the fact that a good nights sleep awaits? I think not.

So the diagnosis? A raging ear infection and Tonsillitis so bad that his glands are hardly letting any daylight through. How did I not notice? The lack of fever and the happy demeanour of my three year old certainly threw my motherly intuition off track this time.

At least I wasn't embarrassed for taking him to the doctor for no good reason, instead I was embarrassed for taking him to the doctor and appearing guilty of behaviour bordering on neglect!

But that's just typical Thomas!

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 4

In our humble corner of England named Huddersfield the government have just funded a place called 'The Zone'. The idea behind this is that they're trying to get all the lazy, junk food eating, PlayStation playing kids activated. That's why it's situated in one of the less than lovely parts of town where kids that fit the category are sadly the norm. But nonetheless it's done in conjunction with local Football team (Huddersfield Town) of League 1 fame, (don't let the 1 fool you, that doesn't mean they're good, sorry Rob!) and the local Rugby team (Huddersfield Giants) of Super League fame, I can only guess this is to add an air of credibility and a bit of eye candy for all the mum's as they watch the teams train. The Zone has a learning zone, a dance zone, a sports zone and a play zone. Now the play zone is the largest of its kind in the UK according to the website, but it's new so therefore clean so we went to check it out.

It was huge, three storeys of slides, tunnels and soft play! It was the best workout I'd had in a while I can tell you. The major challenge of it being so big when you've got two toddlers in tow is keeping everyone safely together. After a while Thomas thought it be fun to go up all three storeys and down the biggest slide of all, a blue twisty tunnel one that went all the way back to the ground level. I agreed it looked quite fun so we set off working our way upwards towards the slide entrance. It was such a long way that halfway there Thomas started complaining that he couldn't climb unassisted blah, blah, blah. So then I had to help him and Eli through all the obstacles to reach the summit. Which wasn't that big of a deal until we got to a part where I had to leave one of them and help the other and come back. So I took Thomas up to the next platform and returned for Eli who had disappeared. I tried to call him back but I could see he was happily working his way back down towards the ground. Thomas was now on the second storey and unhappy that I'd abandoned him to collect his younger brother. So I figured the best plan of action was to go to Thomas and quickly go up to the next storey and down the slide and probably make it to he bottom pretty much the same time as Eli. Perfectly easy plan.

If only it were that simple. We got to the third storey and saw the entrance to the slide. To get to the slide we had to walk over a bridge made of mesh. No big deal right? Well through the mesh you could see all the way down to the floor, three whole storeys down. I went over trying not to envision myself falling to my death (I have a wicked fear of heights you see) and beckoned Thomas across. He took one look down and completely froze. Suddenly it didn't seem so much fun to my three year old. At this point I was more concerned about Eli wandering around alone three levels below unsupervised. So like any good (?) parent would do I practically pulled Thomas across the mesh bridge at which point he was shaking involuntarily. I knew after the mesh bridge trauma that if I went down the slide first he'd just stay at the top recovering from his ordeal and I'd have to go all the way back up again to collect him leaving Eli wandering around alone even longer. So I did what I had to do, I made Thomas go first. Now before you judge me Thomas is a child who simply loves slides, any slides, and always has. So I was convinced when he hesitated that it was all down to the mesh bridge near death experience he'd just encountered. So I sent him down the slide and before he was even out of my view I could hear his cries, all the way down the swirly whirly slide increasing in volume despite the fact he was getting further and further away. Clearly all my parental instincts told me to jump right on and go after him but I was concerned that I'd plough right into him at the bottom so had to wait until I heard the hysteria move from the bottom of the slide. At this point I was very apprehensive, if my slide adoring child didn't enjoy it I knew I certainly wasn't going to.

I didn't enjoy it particularly and felt incredibly guilty the whole way down for forcing my child to endure the dark, twisty hell slide. But there he was at the bottom still crying like a child who just found out the world ran out of chocolate or something equally as terrible. We hugged and he cried and I apologised approximately 6000 times. Need I tell you that after that he showed no interest in the twisty slide again? Which frankly I am relieved about because my bladder just isn't up to a repeat experience anyway.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 3

I may have mentioned previously that Thomas has a tendency to be a tad dramatic. I am fully aware he has inherited this from me. (I am not completely ashamed to admit that I have drafted in my finely tuned brain a plan of action should anyone break into our house at night when Rob is away on business. I almost had to use it once when I was awoken in the night by what I thought was a burglar jingling keys but was actually a bee rattling around inside our living room lampshade repeatedly.) The weather has been unusually blustery lately and we have a telegraph pole at the end of our drive, this pole is huge! A wooden pole tens of metres high holding up telephone cables for us and our neighbours. When you look at the top of the pole on a windy day it is blowing around somewhat but is so obviously safely rooted in the ground. I was getting the kids into the car one morning and it attracted the attention of Thomas who was a bit concerned by it moving slightly in the wind. I reassured him and off we went wherever we were going.

That evening when Rob got home from work he stayed in the car for a while finishing up a phone call in peace, the boys kept looking out to see if he was coming in yet. It was still windy and Thomas noticed the telegraph pole swaying slightly in the wind again. Full panic set in that it was going to fall down crushing his daddy in the process. Now when I say he became hysterical attempting to save his dad from an untimely death I am not being in the least bit dramatic. His adrenaline clearly kicked in because he managed to shrug me off easily and I couldn't pull him off the door that he'd managed to unlock and open amid screams of frenzy.

Rob came in and attempted to rationalise that the pole was going nowhere but Thomas remained unconvinced. We had repeated outbursts of hysteria and concern that the pole would either knock our house down or hit daddy (apparently he had little concern for either mine or Eli's welfare) until he fell asleep cuddling Rob. We were certain the episodes were fatigue induced so let him rest a little. Rob tried to lay him on his bed but he woke up and expressed his concerns that we were in danger (at this point I was slightly anxious that maybe he had some visionary gift and we were in actual danger and so had to go peek at the pole for myself to make sure it wasn't endangering us!) he decided he would be most safe if he laid in bed and whimpered on and off. (After all that is the best course of action in any crisis, he certainly had his drama head on.) We hoped he'd sleep it off and it'd all be forgotten the next day. Little kids are resilient like that, thankfully. (Counting my lucky stars that he slept through our earthquake at 1am that night!)

But not so! Rob tried a new approach of taking him outside to push the pole with Daddy to show that it was too sturdy to be pushed over so it wasn't gonna just fall over. This would work for an hour or so then we'd have to repeat the process. It was a particularly lazy day for me so I had to go out several times in my PJ's to push the pole to assure my child of our safety.

The next day Thomas had playgroup and because Sunday is Mother's day they had several Mother crafts on offer for the kids to try. One was a cookie which they stuck a big pink icing star on and put it in an envelope to give to their mum's. Obviously Thomas couldn't resist the lure of the deliciously decorated cookie and failed to give it to it's intended recipient and proceeded to eat it in the car on the way home. When we pulled onto the drive he gave me his cookie, I made the assumption that he'd had enough of the super sickly icing. As I got out of the car and went to the other side to open the door for the boys I tossed it in the bin. As I opened his car door hysteria had set in again, he needed to give the pole a good shove to check on the safety of our home and family. When he was sufficiently convinced enough to stop crying he asked for his cookie back. Turns out he didn't give it to me to throw away he gave it to me for safekeeping while he monitored the safety of us all. I had to explain his beloved cookie was now in the bin. What followed was a devastation worse than if both our house and daddy had got squashed. He was so upset and I felt so guilty I half considered rescuing the half eaten cookie from the bin. What kind of a parent throws away their son's cookie while he attempts to establish if his loved ones are in total and mortal danger?

Well, in my defense if he'd given me the cookie as I anticipated in the first place the whole incident could have been avoided.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Part 2

I may be weird but I really really love grocery shopping, particularly alone.

I enjoy it with one child in tow.

I abhor it with both kids.

We have those shopping trolleys with two seats at the front so both of my boys could fit in. I realised long ago that I could avoid the wrestling bouts that inevitably led to at least one but usually two crying kids if I let Eli ride up front and put Thomas in the trolley with the food. Obviously it means that all my groceries are squashed beyond repair but it makes for a more peaceful shopping experience overall so I'm willing to live with the mishapen food. I'm all about sacrifice!

In September Thomas started playgroup three (bliss-filled) mornings a week. This was my window of opportunity to have a somewhat peaceful weekly visit to the supermarket with just Eli. Who is generally spellbound by the huge selection of food (the kids loves food!) surrounding him anyway.

Sadly playgroup isn't open 52 weeks a year so unfortunately I recently had to go shopping with both boys. I reverted to my old habits of putting Eli up front and Thomas in with the food, sadly my tactic no longer worked. Thomas realised that he could torment Eli all he liked and Eli was confined and unable to defend himself. He poked, pushed, tickled (a tickle from a 3 year old is purely painful by the way) and grabbed poor Eli over and over and over.

After several threats of, "If you don't leave your brother alone I will get you out and make you walk alongside me!" (Which he'd hate, the kid got my lazy gene!) I hear a big scream from Thomas. Turns out he poked his younger sibling one too many times in the mouth and this time Eli clamped onto that finger and certainly planned not to let go for the forseeable future. Everyone has their limits I guess.

I removed his finger from Eli's jaw and explained that it was his own fault for annoying Eli incessantly despite me telling him not to. That if he'd only listened to Mummy (because obviously I am always right!) and been good it never would have happened. So I took my still whimpering child from the trolley and made him walk alongside me as previously threatened.

"Ouch!!!!!!!"(followed by ultra loud wailing and hysteria)

(Slightly confused)"What's wrong Thomas?"

"You bit me Mummy, I want Daddy, I want Daddy, I want DAAAADDDDDDDDDDDDY!" (X what felt like 40 times!)

"Mummy did not bite you Thomas, Eli bit you because you poked him in his mouth" (Just loud enough for those giving me accusing looks to hear).

Here I was again being embarrassed in public for something I hadn't even done. Obviously he cried and yelled for daddy for the duration of the shopping trip. Well, right until I asked him to help me like a big boy at the check out to put all the groceries on the conveyer belt. Where he threw a glass jar of pasta sauce at the conveyer belt but missed completely. Hitting the floor instead, where it smashed spectacularly, covering the groceries, Thomas, Eli, the check out lady and myself in tomato and garlic sauce.

Never ever, ever again will I take them both. I'd actually rather go without food than endure that again. Now I plan on spacing out all of my future children so I only ever have to go to the supermarket with one child accompanying me.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Part 1

I am the happy owner of one of these buggy board contraptions. This piece of plastic has improved my life immeasurably. Having purchased an array of double buggies (ok well only 2) that are cumbersome and heavy and impossible to maneuver unless you have the muscle strength of the Ultimate Warrior, which I certainly lack. We decided to shell out even more money (it grows on trees, right?) and buy the buggy board. The buggy board has many advantages but one major disadvantage. Disadvantage being that you no longer have the peace of mind that you can strap your little angels in and know unless they're a budding Houdini that they'll remain happily(?) confined for the remainder of your trip. Take a toddler into a shop that sells toys on the buggy board and you have an entirely different experience. A toddlers feet and the buggy board part company faster than the speed of light. Now, that is fast!

So on a recent trip to town the following occurred:

Thomas had parted company with his board and I was getting ready to leave the shop so asked him to get back on so we could go. He resisted due to the array of toys that were on display. So I firmly but quietly (I don't wanna be one of those parents that yells in public, that'd be embarrassing!) insisted he get back on his board immediately. Which he did and I was pleased that I had won this particular battle and coud happily be on my way.

If only the story ended here. To my utter humiliation this was the outcome.

Thomas (loud): "Sorry, sorry Mummy please don't shut me in that room again!"

Me (a little bit confused) "Shhhhh....It's OK Thomas we're going home now and I'll get you a gingerbread man on the way to the car". (I am a great believer in bribery to diffuse a situation).

Thomas (louder): No, no please don't shut me in the bathroom, don't shut that door on me, please, please!"

Me (Even louder wanting to make sure everyone was aware that I am not guilty of the atrocities my child is accusing me of): "Thomas don't be so silly, Mummy would never and has NEVER done that, mummy loves you!"

Thomas: "PLEASE MUM, I'm sorry please don't shut me in that room again!"

By this time I had quickened my pace considerably in a bid to be free of my humiliation. Needless to say I don't frequent that shop anymore and only go to town when Thomas is at playgroup to avoid a repeat experience.

I have never shut him in the bathroom or any room, nor would I ever. But after that episode it was a far more appealing idea.