The good, the bad and the ugly

The good and the bad, that refers to the kids at various points of the day. The ugly, that would be me.

Earlier today I had a medical appointment with a new (to me) medical professional. Mum very kindly agreed to go with me, and Dad (likewise very kindly) agreed to look after the boys. Originally, he was supposed to be collecting them from school, but obviously the weather has had something to say about that and the school hasn’t yet reopened since the Christmas holiday. So, I loaded them up with DVDs, toys and books and took them to be babysat by their Grandpa. The appointment took longer than I was anticipating, so we were away much longer than I thought we would be. However, we got home to Mum and Dad’s house to find that the children had been very good and that there were no complaints.

Later on, though, I asked them to clear out their toy box as not all their toys fit in there any longer and I was sure that there were things which were no longer played with. An hour and a half later saw very little improvement, despite repeated requests from me to hurry it along (it’s not a big toy box either!) and also some advice as to how best to pack things away neatly. When I went out to the hallway to see how they were getting on (the toy box is kept under the stairs) I found Cheeky staring into the middle distance and Handsome sitting on the stairs reading his Harry Potter book. Angry doesn’t quite reach how I felt right then, and they soon found it out. I’d love to be the calm gentle sort of mother who can get her children to behave with a few quietly spoken words. But I’m not. While I didn’t quite shout, I certainly spoke loudly and expressively of my displeasure and disappointment at their behaviour. It certainly sunk in with them as, while I was left feeling really miserable and down, they were quiet, well behaved, humble and polite for the rest of the day, accepting meekly the allotted punishment of early bedtime, no stories and no Harry Potter book.

I think I need to work on this. The Bad was obviously the children misbehaving and not paying attention. The Good – Handsome and Cheeky after the event; the Ugly – me, how depressed I made myself feel because I had to tell them off. It was a proportionate telling off, I just hate having to do it. I have a fabulous relationship with my kids most of the time, so when I have to really get cross with them it does upset me. I let myself get far too stressed about how they behave when they are at other people’s houses, but I feel that I have a responsibility to turn them into decent and respectful members of society. Sometimes I think the responsibility worries me. And sometimes, the slightest little thing will come along and make me feel really miserable.

I don’t think I want any comments on this post please. I’ve forced myself to write it even though I’m in no mood to talk to anyone today. I’d really like to sleep all weekend and wake up feeling all bright and lovely on Monday.

Isn’t it silly. I’ve just read this through and it’s all about a whole lot of nothing. What a silly lot of nothing to get upset over. But sometimes that’s how it goes. Especially when I’m feeling tired. Days like that, the smallest thing seems to assume epic proportions. And I’d like nothing better than to hide in bed until I feel happier again.


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