So it’s May and another half term approaches. It’s a mixture of euphoria and dread. Either you won’t be able to have time off work whilst the kids are off (so have the added expense of extra childcare) or you will spend a small fortune on the endless activities your kids guilt trip you into because:
- a) you think you don’t spend enough time with them when you are at work or
- b) you are at home with them but feel you need to do something special so they think you are super cool or
- c) because little Oliver from class 2B’s parents will be taking him all over the place so you have to compete.
Well this time I’ve made a pact with myself – no more trying to be Wonder Woman, as I only end up with my blue and white star knickers in a twist and the gold tiara lopsided. This May I promise there will be more talking and less iPad use (honest), although I’m a bit worried about what home truths I might discover from my 6-year old. Whilst my husband might be tempted to say ‘no’ when I ask ‘does my bum look big in this?’ or ‘yes’ to ‘do you fancy me more than Cameron Diaz?’– children on the other have no problem telling you the harsh truth.
Like the time we were sat at the dinner table and I’m asking my little girl about her school friends…
Me: So who did you play with today then?
Daughter: Lisa with the orange hair.
Me: We don’t say orange, we say ginger.
She looks confused.
Me: Well, what colour is Mummy’s hair?
She looks at me intensely.
I breathe a smug sigh of relief – my daughter thinks I have Princess hair!
Daughter:…with black bits underneath.
What?? I almost spat my peas out as I realised that to her I was more Cindy Beale than Cinderella.
Out of the mouths of babes eh! I hasten to add I made a swift phone call to a salon directly after to make sure those black bits were well and truly covered. Just don’t get me started on the time she called me an Oompa Loompa after a DIY fake-tanning session…
Actually, come to think of it, I might break my half-term resolutions as quick as I break the New Years’ ones. Good luck to parents one and all, remember there’s always gin o’clock to ease the pain!
The Big Bad Mumma xx