Whilst I massively love the whack lifestyle that comes with being a mum, at the moment my life involves a lot of bogies, pretend laughing at farts and a rampant, breeding laundry basket and well, it’s all got a bit hum drum, you know? You know? You know. I know you know.
I try to be fun mum.
Last week, as “Fun Mum” I spun Ed and Alex round in the double buggy really fast in the middle of Sainsbury’s. Except Ed wasn’t strapped in. He went FLYING.
The week before that I spun the round-a-bout reeeaaallly fast in the park. Ed was watching a passing tractor and wasn’t holding on. He went flying. Again.
I am “Fun Mum” for 15 minutes of an evening on average once every week when I let them bump around on my back like I am their horse, until their constant kicking me in the kidneys starts to smart a bit.
I am “Fun Mum” and help them set up a really awesome Big Jigs (snigger. Every time!) train track but then lose it when Alex comes in and Godzilla’s his way through it like a big wrecking ball.
I am “Fun Mum” and let them choose their own clothes sometimes. The last time, the almost 2-year old ending up strutting about in just his PJ bottoms with his gut hanging over the top. He looked like Stavros Flatley.
And Ed did this
But I get tired, sometimes, of being “fun”. I am tired of thinking up ideas. I am tired of arguments over eating dinner. I am tired of having to shout and tell the kids off in the evenings over silly little things after we have had a really nice day. I am a nice mummy. I am, I would say, at least an A-. Maybe a B+ on a Tuesday aftenoon (Tuesday? Booo Day more like. Tuesday suck).
This weekend they had a holiday at the seaside with relatives (whilst we decorated the house). Ed greeted his grandmother at the door with his shoes in his hand and said
“Can we go now?”
Alex didn’t ask to immediately leave the loving, nuturing family home… which was nice. He did however stand in the door, sans nappy, stretching his willy out as far as he could and said
So maybe him leaving the family home is a good thing? Head off to someone who can teach him some etiquette?
This weekend they had steam trains and the sea-side and paddling after dinner. They had sweets and ice creams and no rules. They were so happy to see me.
(Joke. This did happen when they got home but only because I told Ed he had to share with his brother, the massive industrial sized ladder their father had left out whilst chopping down trees. So, I guess we are fun in some ways. We let them play with dangerous grown up DIY equipment).
Ed spent the whole day today calling me “Nanny”, a slip of the tongue like kids calling theirs teacher “mummy”. And as I put Alex to bed last night he said “Nanny house, again?” and nodded vigourously. I guess this is the gift aunts and uncles and grandparents give, to mix every day life up with biscuits and ice creams and beaches and toast for supper. To make memories. This makes me feel incredibly lucky
But man was I happy to see them after their mini break. It is about routine, yes, but it is also about doing things for the “just because” factor.
Do you agree? Whats your hum drum?