- Vocal exercises: I exercise my voice. Often. Erm…would we call it shouting? *rubs chin. Possibly, at times. I can go berserk over trivial twaddle. I always sweat the small stuff – a breach of one of the cardinal parenting mantras by all accounts. The kids stare in bewilderment, or just laugh at me.
- Patience: Patience is an effort for me. It isn’t a God-given gift. It requires much thought and concentration. I’ve always been patient with dogs, birds, squirrels, and teeny weeny cutesy bunny wabbits, even other people’s children on occasion. BUT I have sod-all tolerance with my own kids at times. This has improved hugely since Pickle’s arrival. He is helping me to slowly perfect my imperfect patience.
- Alcohol: Those of you who pop by my blog for a ‘brew’ and a biscuit now and then will know that I’m partial to a shot of Bacardi and a slurp of Rosey. But. In all fairness. Never in the same glass. So that’s good.
- Profanity: I swear. Yes, as terrible as it is to disclose. It’s true, I have sworn in front of the children. Not out of habit of course, but out of sheer and utter crappy parental frustration. Never intentionally. And always with regret. I have never dropped a ‘feck’ or c-bomb in front of them. Yet! That’s what this blog is for. Put your fingers in your ears now.
- Façade: I frequently feign interest in what my kids say to me. I flash the sideways glance that, in some kind of perverse way, makes them believe I am vaguely paying attention to the fact that a) Pickle has eaten his fifth bogey of the day, or that b) Gherkin nutmegged a player on the football pitch. I’m a girl for feck’s sake. How do I know what nutmegging is? And why do I remotely care? I don’t even know if I’ve conjugated the verb correctly in that context. How can it even BE a verb?
- Covertness: I have been known to listen to one of the kids reading, whilst furtively texting with the other hand.
- Ignorance: I have turned the radio up louder in an attempt to drown out the noise of the fierce and doubtless bloody battle taking place upstairs, rather than acknowledge it/deal with it/split it up.
- Childishness: Recently, I cowered under a cloak of juvenile embarrassment, sniggering, when asked what a ‘vagina’ was by Gherkin. Of course, that would have been the perfect opportunity to bring out the books and have that all-important grown-up discussion. But let’s be honest, ‘vagina’ is a highly amusing word at the best of times. *sniggers more.
- Overt falsehoods: I massage the truth, tell half-truths, prevaricate; all entiiiirely different from telling lies, you understand. There is nothing more galling to me than when the kids tell lies. My children NEVER get into trouble for speaking the truth *shuffles in seat. Since I have eyes in the back of my head, and spies everywhere, they dare not lie. If they do indulge in any whopper-flinging, they are fed mivvits for tea and made to sit on a cold wall, which WILL give them chincough!
- Embarrassment: I am an embarrassment to my kids. I have been told twice, this very morning, to behave myself. I am not to quote any lines from He-Man and certainly not to draw my invisible sword in the playground, whilst dramatically proclaiming “By the power of Greyskull…”. It’s not big, it’s not clever and it just shows your age….apparently!
I confess: I am a thoroughly imperfect parent.