Did I mention the tuneless, relentless singing in the middle of the dining room by a daughter with a beautiful voice when she wants to and 21 years of experience living with me. I think she reached 100 elephants, starting from 1.
“100 Elefumps balancing, step by step on a piece of string…”
No I can’t get started on this I’ll start back on the dark path of the preceding paragraph. But in my defence it was her father that snapped, asked her to stop singing, breaking the string and then obstinately refusing repeated commands to apologise to the ‘elefumps’. I apologised but her father was the one that broke their string, in her head, where wise men fear to tread.
It’s time to leave. The gorgeous couple with two well behaved children escape easily. But for us it’s time for the leaving arguments; not wanting to leave, begging for food because there is none at home, unfairly being made to carry things to the car. Plus the pre-emptive car and music arguments, remember parents are stupid so if you get in first they may forget everything else that has ever happened.
I walk outside not realising my two eldest are already out there.
“Mum, she tried to stand in the middle of the road,” no that’s not the bad part, “With Your Box!”
“Well, she was closer to the middle”
I am about to give them both instructions to stand in the middle of the road, without my box of course, and count to infinity, when their grandparents emerge from the house to see us off. They are probably already aghast at my mood so… Look I can see that fascinating blade of grass again or maybe another one.
We cross the road, no one wants to walk with me, yay, there is a grandma to fight over, as I’ve said earlier Grandmas are the Motheriest. The kids are locked into place while I walk to the driver’s side to kiss my mother in law. This wonderful woman turned kids into princes, she deserves a billion kisses.
“Now this is what I really want for Mother’s Day” I say, I’m very good, if I do say so myself, at feigning jocularity.
“What?” she replies.
“To watch my children drive off to their own homes!”
She laughs, she repeats it to her husband and mine. I’m in my seat by then so I lean across the car.
“Admit it! You remember.”
We all laugh! Gallows humour for the adults, I think my girls may just be suffering a relapse of intense daft.
We return home, I only get the beginnings of the fight necessary to get belongings removed from the car & moved to the general vicinity of the house. Small borrowed items have no chance, you have to remember the party finished the moment they got in the car, they no longer need those things they must be immediately discarded and then hidden so that unreasonable parents don’t spot them and demand that the heavy necklace or ring be dragged into the house. . Besides having jewellery etc. in the car can be useful for the child that has been slow in getting ready for the next occasion, when we give up and drag them off they can finish decorating themselves with the things they magically find in the car. I found the perfect earrings for my outfit on the way to a school meeting; my anniversary present still in their box, in the door of Grandma’s car. And that would be a fantastic example; if I hadn’t been the one to leave them there, well the kids didn’t find and retrieve them, bad kids. I think I will just try to be grateful they no longer remove clothes on the trip home.
Now I finally get to the entire point of my story; there needs to be 2 Mother’s days. I love seeing my extended family. I want to see them more often, especially my gorgeous sister in law who I hardly ever see. I’d love to babysit my nephews every week, but I understand; I’ve met my kids. I’d even love to go back to the huge, hundreds of people extended extended family parties that we used to attend before my two eldest developed their father’s ability to faint almost constantly and the adult to unconscious person ratio of our family made these occasions too difficult. But I want a Mother’s Day!
There needs to be a Grandmother’s Day. A day when gangs of horrid, noisy, needy children swarm making noise and destruction with their cousins, to the oblivious beams of delight of the Day’s VIP; Grandma. I am not saying senility has blinded them to the realities of their grandchildren. It is entirely possible that in small doses their antics are hilarious. I also have some theories of darker motives; pride perhaps viewing the evidence of how much better they did the job; look at their kids compared to their kids’ kids, or even basking in their revenge, all the perceived faults & slights they’ve never really forgiven. They are not nice, they too are Mums.
Most importantly we need a separate day for we mothers who are daughters & daughters in law and still live with our mistakes. At this point I will stop to relate a joke I share regularly with my girls.
“It was an accident,” she says.
“I wish I could say that about you!” I reply.
I only do this when I am sure there was negligence involved. And as I say to them when they complain they can have humour or rage, their choice.
Autism does effect the attention span doesn’t it… bright light…
Anyway back to business, we Mothers need a quiet day, with gifts, cake and adulation, and not leaving the house.
Oh I can imagine it now. I could sleep late, after all we have all day and it’s all about me. I could kiss the children and thank them for the lovely presents. Then I’d send them to their own rooms, or any room I’m not in.
“Off you go. I love you! Destroy your own things! Kill each other quietly! No, leave the pets with me; remember I still need my Mother’s Day pet kisses. After you’ve left I think an audience is what upset them earlier. Yes I’ll call you if there is any sign of cake. If you go now you can take lollies and yes, whatever drink you want. Bye-bye, love you, love my presents! No I won’t listen right now. We have all day. I will listen to you at precisely 2:00 and not before.”
If you are planning to use this speech make sure you give each child a different time, if they meet at telling you something time they will combust instantly. If they each have a different time they may forget and you win.
Even in my dreams I must be realistic, one will need some more work. I must be gentle with this delicate soul.
“I’m sure your invisible friend wants to listen to your lovely elefump song!”
“Silly mummy!” after all she is 21, it might not be appropriate for him to continue living with her.
“Then why not sing it to your Daleks or the guys from Assassin’s Creed.”
“Yes, I’ll go right now, they’ll love this song!”
Ah peace at last, time to actually speak to that man I married 5 million years ago before we were parents. With a chair behind the door and some back up threats by my protector I might get 5 minutes. Especially if there is something they want to watch and not immediately tell me about it. But the most important thing is when I scream, yell, insult (hilariously), laugh at, ignore the ‘needs’ of my children & hide, I am in the privacy of my own home. With only my saintly husband to judge me, and he usually judges me quietly, and runs interference too.
We NEED 2 separate Mother’s Days!
Back to my real Mother’s Day; we’re home. But with barely any time to get to my Mum’s so; as the shampoo bottles used to advise; it’s time to Rinse, Repeat.