The Others

A friend of mine told her friend that she was becoming a childminder. And wasn’t that great? And why didn’t her friend think about doing it too? Her friends response?

“Elaine. I don’t even like my own kids sometimes, let alone someone else’s”.

I laughed hard at this.

I went through a spell myself of thinking about becoming a childminder. Am I at home anyway? Tick. Do people tell me I am good with kids? Tick. Shall I share my  great plan with my friend? Tick. Her response?

“Hannah. Have you gone f*cking mental?!”

Tick.

Kids.

“I LOVE KIDS! Kids are GREAT! Aren’t kids BRILLIANT?!”.

It’s the knee jerk reaction of the majority of mothers – you HAVE to like kids. Even ones that are not your own. And I do like children. Most kids are great. But let’s face facts. Not all kids are. My kids are. Your kids are. We may not always like them for split seconds…several seconds… but we always go to bed knowing our kids are the frickin’ BOMB.

Sometimes, I don’t like other people’s children.

And I bet you don’t either.

I want to burst into a booming nasal show tune and taaa daaaa my jazz hands and bellow

“THIS. IS. OOOOOOOOO KAAAAAAAAAAAY!”

to rapturous applause and the dramatic thundering down of a very heavy velvet curtain before it whips up again in front of me and I bow and the crowd throw red roses at me and cry and perform a standing ovation.

I wish them every health, happiness, success and lottery win. But I don’t actually have to like them. Why would I? I don’t know them. Children to whom I am not connected by belly button history, Christmas card list or children’s party invitation, I do not know. Fact. I do not need to pretend to like the little imp with the 2 loose plugs of dark green snot up its nose that flap in…and out… and in again with each breath taken. A teeny tiny booger door, swinging in the breeze. Slack jawed and eye balling me as it hovers around me like a fat bumble bee whilst I drink my tea in a café, I will force myself to look up, smile, make eye contact and say

“Hello! Oooh I like your….(Jesus think woman, think!)….trainers”

Whilst all I am really thinking is

“Please don’t sneeze in my tea. Please don’t let your mother be watching and think I am grooming you. Please don’t cough ‘cos those boogers look ripe and aimed at my cookie. JESUS PLEASE DON’T TOUCH ME YOU LOOK DIRTY”

And I had a turning point at the weekend. And. It. Felt. Good.

We were at a County show and Ed was playing really nicely with a toy dog, not his toy dog but one of many toy animals the play area had provided for kids to share (note the word) and play nicely (note the word) with. I am not normally a helicopter parent, but it was jam packed and cows had been licking barriers with their ring wormed tongue and Alex’s latest saying is

“It’s Ok mummy! My hands are clean! I licked them!”

so I was on edge and alert. I don’t need ring worm in my life right now. That possibly ring wormed fence was the bomb at the end of a line of gunpowder which Alex was about to strike a match and throw at. So, anyway, the point is, I was quite near the boys. And I heard Ed’s little voice, alarmed, a bit panicky and a bit wobbly loudly say

“Mummy!”

and I looked down at him and there was a little girl grabbing at this toy dog he had been playing with. He looked really upset. But he was bigger than she was. She looked like she was about to scratch his face off. But she was littler than he was. And they both got involved in this death grip dance, going round and round in circles. Neither letting go of the dog.

My instinct was to do what I always do in these situations, so I bent down, got in their eye lines yadda yadda yadda and said cheerily and calmly and happily and yadda yadda yadda (so I didn’t look grumpy or evil to any witnesses floating about)

“I know! Why don’t we find another little doggy and then you can both have a little doggy each and you could play together! Let’s share the (disgusting rancid) dogs”.

And at this point it could have gone one of 2 ways. Let’s go with scenario one.

Little girl looks at me, looks at the dog, releases her grip a bit and looks sweet and small. I see her for the younger party, and see her innocence and say to Ed

“Why don’t we let the little girl have the toy? She is only little” before whispering “She’ll get bored soon and drop it and we can have it back” and doing a little conspiring wink and quick shoulder hike and a smile. The little girl takes the puppy, sees a doll, drops the puppy and Ed picks it up and winks at me and does a little chuckle and eye roll.

That didn’t happen. What did happen, was scenario two.

Little girl looks at me. And her face says it all. Her face says “No. Fucking. Way” and she turns back to Ed like the T1000, with the grip of the T1000 and it’s like watching the T1000 as it prepares to kill the puppy by strangulation and my son’s spirits by suffocation.

Huh.

I was pretty unsure about what to do at this point, because this girl was good. She releases one hand only at a time to move it forward like lightening, to tighten the grip with her other hand. One of which is clawing closer towards Ed’s hand and he looks pretty confused and I am panicking. My brain is saying

“You can’t tell off another person’s kid, Han” and nor would I ever. I listen to my brain. As my eye balls go from side to side like a cuckoo clock owl.

Then her mother appears. (Ohthankgod).

And it could have gone on of 2 ways. Let’s go with scenario one.

“Hi! Oh, Amelia, no darling, the little boy had the puppy first!”

Amelia tightens her death grip and shoots lasers at Ed where he collapses on the floor (not really).

“Amelia! Mummy said no. Let’s find another toy”

and Amelia looks at her mum, has a strop like any normal kid, kicks off and her mother tells her strops won’t work and drags her away and off they go unhappily.

That didn’t happen. What did happen was scenario two.

“Now, Amelia, let the little boy have the puppy, he had it first”.

Amelia tightens her death grip and shoots lasers at Ed where he collapses on the floor (not really).

“Ok. Well. Er. Yes” The mother looks at me “She wants it. She wants the puppy. Sorry!” *sing song voice* “She wants it to go in the doll’s house”. And gives me a conspiring wink and a little shoulder hike and a little chuckle and eye roll. “3 going on 33! So….we’ll have the puppy? Ok?”

And it could have gone one of 2 ways. Let’s go with scenario one.

I get hot and flustered and say “Oh, er” and get even more flustered and hot, and intimidated by this woman’s brashness and assumption that I will cave and look at Ed and feel really bad for him but well, what can you say to that? She thinks I will cave. So, maybe she senses that I will cave. That I should cave.

And I cave. I tell Ed to let the girl have the puppy.

Ed releases the puppy and looks gutted. And confused. We don’t give in to bullies, do we mummy? But, you just did. And off we go confused and unhappy.

But that didn’t happen. What did happen, was scenario 2.

The mother looks at me and says “She wants it. She wants the puppy. Sorry!” *sing song voice* “She wants it to go in the doll’s house”. And gives me a conspiring wink and a little shoulder hike and a little chuckle and eye roll. “3 going on 33! So…we’ll have the puppy. Ok?”

I look at Ed, who is so good at sharing all his stuff with Alex, but just because he is big and gentle and used to sharing and just because he does it so well, think, he shouldn’t always have to. I wasn’t going to teach Ed that yes, you should always share and be polite and have manners, but that it was OK to just roll over, be intimidated and be thwarted like a irritating fly when someone else couldn’t be bothered to show you respect for your feelings, or the fact that you do have manners. I went through a bewildering mix of emotions of frustration, embarrassment and indignation, all stemming from this woman’s assumption that we would give in.

And then, time stood still, enough for me to hop back on the reality train and remember this all started with a little toy dog. And I looked this woman in the eye and made a sound in the back of my throat that sounded like I was choking on a fur ball and went

“No”.

The look on this woman’s face was the same that was on her daughter’s as they both heard me at the same time. No one had ever told either of them “No”. Well, until fucking now sweetcheeks.

In shock, Ed released his grip and Amelia snatched the puppy and put it in the doll’s house.

I looked at him. Then I looked at the mother. And without breaking eye contact with her, I said to Ed

“Take it out of the house, Ed. Take the puppy out of the house”.

And he did. And I was proud. Of us both.

Don’t get me wrong. Kids are great. But please, stranger, please don’t think that just because your little darling is the apple of your eye and you think it deserves preferential treatment, that I do too. So hell yeah, take the puppy out of the house.

BOOM!

 

Tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

19 Responses to The Others

  1. nikki sumner says:

    Brilliant well done!!

  2. Toni says:

    Too right! Go Han! Why should it always be the good kids that share that have to give it away? X

  3. Yes! Love it!

    And I must admit I am defo in the same camp as your friend about both other people’s children and the project of childminding. It definitely not for me! 😉 xx

  4. Fi says:

    Absolutely f**king brilliant ( sorry auntie Kath for the bad language!) totally agree, I hate people like that and really hate bullies. Huzzah indeed!

  5. Michelle says:

    I freaking love this. How come I have never read your blog before? X

  6. Karen says:

    I need more of this in my life! *subscribed*

  7. bonniecroft says:

    well done you Hannah I hate bullies and I hate Bullies that do it with a sickly smile and oh so sweet voice !! Ed is such a gentle soul and such a giver .Lovely Ed. good for you love he must have thought … yeeee that’s MY MUM xx

  8. nisha4017 says:

    I want you on my side in a fight!!! Well done!

Like my blog? Leave a reply...