It's a Jungle Out There!

Her destination loomed up ahead. Large and frightening....a blot on the otherwise pristine landscape.

The Mother shuddered with a mixture of fear and loathing. Her heart pumped manically through her veins, her palms sweating, her brow furrowed with concentration.

She had a plan...to get in and get out as fast as she could...with minimum loss of life and limb.

This was her job, her responsibility, her role. The Mother, The Gatherer....so gather she must.

On her arrival, she saw that many had arrived before her. It was a chaotic scene of tempers and frustration. She joined them; clutching her youngest child protectively to her chest.

She fought for position, for dominance. To procure the best for her offspring. To ensure that they would survive. I am Mother....hear me roar.

Her child wiggled and flailed about. She struggled to restrain her as she tried to
collect the necessities she needed. The Mother hastily fed the child the last of her  dwindling supplies. She, herself, ate nothing. Operating on pure adrenalin alone.

Then, she saw one. Another of her kind. The same panicked expression, the same frenzied grabbing of provisions. Holding her child securely, attempting to ward of any unwanted intruders or worse, bestowals of advice.

They looked at each other, the Mothers, and between them crossed a look of understanding, a common goal, the same instinct of survival.

The Mother approached the end of her journey with relief. Still not letting her guard down, but with a sense of impending freedom approaching.

And then she was out, finished, complete. Child safe. Supplies gathered. Her job was done.

As she drove away the sun shined, the birds sang, the child slept. She sighed with relief as she looked in the rear view mirror - at the quickly fading reflection of the giant 'Woolworths' sign.

'Thank god that's over' she muttered....until next week anyway.

Most Embarrassing Moments......

I think that some people have a real knack for embarrassing themselves. A real talent for doing things that can only be described as stupid. For creating a scene or planting their foot firmly in their mouth.

I am one of these people.

It sometimes seems that my life can be summed up as one mortifying moment after another.

The time I wet my pants in front of the entire class in Grade 3.....my teacher had refused to let me go to the toilet before my speech so I weed in front of everyone. From that time onward the kids in that class called me "Wee Willie Wee Wee".This moment is seared across my brain forever, Thank you Mrs Ogilvy.

When I had to perform in a high school drama class and kept wondering why everyone in the audience was sniggering at me.... I didn't find out until I had finished that I had a split in my pants and my floral, frilly undies were on display to 45 high school students.....nice.

I've had massive fails falling off podiums in night clubs (many, many years ago) I've called people by the wrong name, I've let loose with insignificant rubbish in the middle of important conversations. I've told jokes that simply aren't funny.

As I got older my ability to make a spectacle of myself lessened. But only because I had learnt to keep my head down, to fly beneath the radar, to never put myself 'out there'.

Recently though, I've become a bit more confident and a little less inclined to worry about what other people think......which means I am once again 'out there' to make a fool of myself.

I was shopping with my sister recently and she had chosen an outfit to try on. She ducked into one of three change rooms and I poked my head into the room she was in to see how she was going...."Oh, that looks really nice on you' I cooed, looking down at the gorgeous outfit on my sister....only to look up and realise it wasn't my sister at all....I was 'checking out' the body of a complete stranger!

Unfortunately there were no holes nearby for me to curl up and die in.

Luckily I don't have to run into that lady on a daily basis...unlike another recent incident where the person I embarrassed myself in front of is someone I see quite often.......

Once again we were at a children's birthday party....we attend these on a frighteningly regular basis. I had noticed that one of the toddlers in the group had wandered into the public toilet on his own, his Mum was some distance away so, being nearby, I poked my head into the loo to call the little guy back outside. Unfortunately one of the Dads from the party was in there at the time........Although I apologised profusely afterward I still hang my head in shame every time I see the poor man. I swear he must think I'm a pervert.

I'm sure there are more moments I could share, but I'd be carrying on well into next week to name them all, so we'll stop at that shall we?

So, come on spill it. If you have ever had a totally mortifying moment I want to hear about it. Just so you can help me feel a little better!

Incentive for Toddlers.......

Ahhhh....bribery....Oops, I mean incentive.
image credit

Today, as I trooped through the supermarket with Miss Tornado Two in tow. I found myself (when not stressed out of my brain trying to stop the little darling from casing the joint) contemplating the difference between shopping with baby #4 to shopping when the first two babies were small.

Now, I'm not saying the first two were perfectly behaved. They weren't. But maybe I handled them better. Maybe I still viewed the weekly shop with optimism rather than stone, cold dread. I just seemed to get through with my sanity intact and a much calmer demeanour. Nowadays I leave the place sweating and silently cursing the sweet faced child before me.

With child #1, I would pack a little lunchbox filled with organic snacks for my cherub to munch on. My distraction methods seemed to work, she seemed genuinely interested in where eggs come from and how milk is made. Miss TT however, couldn't give two hoots. She wonders what the milk would look like all over the floor. What happens when you throw a carton of eggs in the trolley? 'I helping Mumma' she says as she pulls a glass container of coffee off the shelf.

When strapped into the trolley where all  good toddlers  in supermarkets should be, she kicks and screams 'I get out! she hollers 'I get out!'

So I do it....I reach into my handbag and I pull out the old standby, the fail-proof, the reliable.....my good friend the lollipop.

With my older children I wouldn't have dreamt of it. They would munch away on their sugar-free, organic rice crackers with gusto. Miss TT takes one look at 'rabbit food' and lets her distaste be made abundantly clear to anyone in the vicinity.

Some may call it bribery....I prefer incentive....incentive to sit down, be quiet, and let your poor Mother do the shopping in peace.

Miss Terrific Two

Something unusual is happening with my busy, funny and mayhem-causing Miss Tornado Two. Usually I spend my days running after the little monster as she terrorizes all and sundry with her enthusiasm, verve and sheer determination.

She's famous for her tantrums, renowned for her stubbornness and notorious for striking fear into the hearts of supermarket employees in every suburb in the vicinity.

But, all of a sudden she's doing something I never thought I would see - well not until she was well into her twenties anyway...... She's actually behaving in a manner that makes it tolerable to take the little angel out in public without me dying of embarrassment at her shenanigans.Without me even having to resort to bribery involving chocolate and about a zillion hours of torture watching Dora The Explorer.

For example; Today we went to the supermarket - I know, scary isn't it? And get this....we escaped unscathed. You heard me right.....unscathed. I was calm and relaxed and so was Miss Tornado Two. We chatted amicably as I pushed her around in the trolley (which, yes, she did stay seated in for most of the trip) There was no screaming to get out, no demanding of packaged goods, no alarming of other shoppers. It was a trip completely free of disapproving stares and unwanted advice regarding my child and a swift kick up the backside.

People stopped only to comment on the general cuteness of my offspring and how well-behaved she was........... It was a revelation.
Yes, I nodded happily, she is a good little girl. And she is very cute. I know, I know, those cheeks are adorable, and yes, I am a very lucky Mummy.

I couldn't believe it. It was amazing, mind-blowing...... and really, really weird.

Miss Tornado Two started her 'terrible two's' early. In fact, she pretty much started them not long after her first birthday. One minute she was an adorable little baby and next she was a screaming, yelling little monster that even the dog was terrified of.

I had pretty much resigned myself to years and years of this torture. Of all four children Little Miss seemed destined to be my main mischief....my trouble maker.

But lately she has become a sweet, little girl - still tending to have the occasional meltdown, she is two after all - but generally she's been all goodness, light & fluffiness.

So, now I'll have to change her moniker. Miss Tornado Two doesn't seem apt at the moment. Maybe Miss Terrific Two or Miss Tremendous Two? Either way my little girl seems to be growing up.....and in the nicest possible way.

Chivalry is Dead

This morning I was at the supermarket.
'Oh no!' I hear you mutter "Not again!'......
Thank you for your concern but yes, I am okay.
Unfortunately all the other people who reside in my suburb are not quite as fortunate.
Apologies to all the people in aisles 2, 5 and 11 at 10am this morning....the child in question is not mine, I promise, I only "borrowed" her. Honestly.
       Anyways, I'm off the beaten track. As this title clearly states "Chivalry is Dead".
Now, I'm not a die-hard feminist and nor am I a submissive door-mat-type-person (in other words I'm a fence-sitter) But I am a woman and I expect to be treated like one, in other words like I'm the Queen of England people! Bowing, curtsying, calling me "Ma'am" and all that.....just kidding.
       I do like manners though and I expect them. A simple please, thank you or excuse me will sometimes suffice. Therefore, if you see me (30-something, tired, stressed, motherly) struggling with my daughter that "borrowed" child in the freezer section of the supermarket, running up my backside with your loaded trolley will not help.....in fact it will quite likely make me apocalyptic with rage. Not apologising afterward makes it more than likely you will experience the female equivalent of an erupting volcano.
    When the aforementioned "borrowed" child throws a punnet of strawberries on the ground, skirting around them with a "tsk, tsk" is not acceptable, it is much more chivalrous to offer the struggling Mother a hand.
    Vile language will certainly not be tolerated. Yes, I take a long time to load my items onto the checkout, that is because I have a two year old tornado helping me. She is helping me so she's distracted from screaming like a banshee because she wants the strategically placed sweets. If you like I can take even longer and I will, simply because you swore at me. Now, I'll turn and wish you a nice day and that's because I'm a nice, well mannered young woman.

Tee hee.....Rant over, I promise to be all sunshine and rose petals again tomorrow. xx

Toddler Terror

As the end of the week approaches it begins, I start to feel sick and worried and a feeling of dread settles into the pit of my stomach. On Thursday night it's worsened to the point that I have trouble sleeping and then I awake on Friday morning exhausted and dispirited.
I know it has to be done, just as it had to be done last week....and the week before...and the week before that.

It's the bane of Mother's of small children everywhere - the weekly trip to the supermarket.

Until recently I have quite enjoyed my trip down the hallowed aisles of Woolworths. I love food and I love cooking, so a trip to the supermarket has always been a bit of an adventure (sad, I know) the possibilities, the opportunities, oh, what fabulous items can I coerce into memorable meals for my family?
But lately my weekly sojourn into the wonderful world of food has been interrupted.....disturbed....destroyed...and all by a person about 2 and a half feet tall who has the personality of a whirlwind.

Unfortunately my terrible, oops sorry, terrific toddler hasn't inherited her Mother's love of buying foodstuffs.

It begins almost the instant we drive into the car park and continues until we drive out again 45 minutes later; screaming, yelling, kicking, pulling things off shelves, biting, hitting, crying.
Little old ladies "Tut, tut, tut", other Mother's hurry away and avert their eyes and silently hope that their little angel isn't silently taking notes. Mother's with like-minded toddlers nod and sigh.....they too know the pain.
The treats I pack get spat out, the toys I bring get thrown, my gentle banter to try and divert her attention - ignored.

A fake and painful smile is fixed on my face as I throw obscure items that I don't need into my trolley and try to make my escape as fast as humanely possible. The lady at the checkout sees me coming; a look of fear flits across her face before she too fixes a fake and painful smile on her face. I apologise profusely as I hold onto my struggling child and quickly load up my items.
A man behind me mutters about "giving that child a good slap" and my heart sinks down around my knees.

Suddenly the answer occurs to me, the solution, the light at the end of the tunnel, healer of hurts and up-lifter of moods. I cuddle my precious child, kiss her and then hand her a piece of chocolate.....ahhh, silence, what bliss.