Sick Conflicted Parents Day

Today, is the second in a month, where parents will be waking up feeling slightly sick, helpless and conflicted.

"Results day? Nah, I'm not worried. It's up to him/her. I'm not one of those parents," you announce, wondering why sleep wandered around your bedroom like a pushed ball of mercury and your Coco Pops strangely taste like you captured that ball in your dreams and shoved it in your mouth. 

People will be full of advice. Older, wiser parents, people who got good results, people who got bad results, people who are too old or young to have ever taken any exams will all say that it doesn't matter. Jeremy Clarkson will appear on Twitter telling you that he failed everything but still managed to drive fast cars. 

I have no advice. 

It's going to be a roller coaster of a day. You will feel sick. You will feel helpless. You will feel conflicted. You will feel excited or sad or even both.  You will feel proud, ashamed or both.

Parents, they are not your results but you feel like they are. You were there through the pen-throwing tantrums and the tearful meltdowns. You nagged. Oh, boy, did you nag. You made sure that they did the best they could. 

I know that you are scared that if they don't do as well as they should it will have somehow been your fault. I'm not going to tell you it wasn't. Of course it was. They have your genetic make up, after all. Somewhere down the line you must ultimately take responsibility, so just suck it up. Guilt is in the parent's contract and nothing I say about a child leading their own life is going to make any difference. 

I also know that you are scared they might do much better than expected. You won't tell anyone this because it is a childish and selfish thought but what if they really are much cleverer than you? What if they do really well and all your friend's children bomb? 

I just want to say 'good luck' to all parents who are waiting today and leave you with Maureen Lipman who, even though she's just a grandma seems to capture the conflict perfectly.

Clear the Clutter.

There is nothing more therapeutic than doing a great big tip run.  Getting rid of all the stuff you don't need any more, making room for new things.

The TV shows where people have so much stuff they can't get into bed fascinate me.  A lot of my hoarding comes from laziness.  I genuinely can't be bothered to throw stuff away.  The Long Suffering Husband keeps bits of wood and rusty screws because, "you never know when they might come in useful."  He would only reluctantly throw away something that was broken because, "I could fix that!"  He also keeps the cardboard boxes from when we've bought large expensive items, "just in case they need to go back."  We can't be the only couple in the world to have a box for a Commodore 64 computer in the loft.

When throwing stuff away there is always a frisson of fear, a  thought that nags away, "What if I need it?" I think this is worse for people from poorer backgrounds.  Could it be an inherited genetic survival instinct?  If you don't know where your next jam sandwich is coming from you don't throw away the crusts just in case you are hungry tomorrow.

To cure myself of my hoarding habit I bought a simple little book by Karen Kingston called Clear Your Clutter (although some would argue that as I hoard books more than anything else it's not really a great purchase in the attempt to clear the rubbish) .  Her advice really helps me to clear my wardrobe out regularly.  She says that if you haven't worn it in a year you are not likely to and that you should give it a 3 month warning.  If you still haven't worn it then it needs to go.  I don't suppose this would work if you collect clothes, or shoes or handbags because then you are keeping them because you love them and not because you are too lazy to throw them away.

A Level Notes

When my daughter finished her A levels I suggested that she throw her notes away and make a bit more space in her room.  "But what if I fail?" she said.  "Then your notes were rubbish and you need to make more."  My Dad said, "Oh no, don't get rid of them, you never know when you might need them.  I've still got all my notes on how to work a telephone exchange in the loft.  If I ever need them I know where to find them."  As he hasn't used them in 40 years she agreed that maybe there was no point in keeping them but would wait until after she had her results.

"Why don't you have a burning party?" I stupidly suggested.  "You can BBQ and all burn your notes.  It will be therapeutic!"

That is what is happening right now, outside my patio doors.  As I sit and type this, the Long Suffering Husband is enjoying what he says is like Big Brother on a huge screen.  It looks fun.  The whole garden and house is filled with smoke, the box of notes is slowly emptying, food is being eaten and Prosecco being drunk.

There are people bouncing on the trampoline, swigging from bottles of WKD and toasting flumps over the incinerator. It makes me wish I was young again.

There is only one thing that worries me.

Who would store a toddler in a plastic box?

Living with a strop-monster

Any parent will tell you that balancing your child's moods with your own can be extremely stressful at times.  You can guarantee your toddler will throw himself on the floor of the supermarket and kick and scream on the day when you have been up all night or your cat has just died.  The day when you are feeling on top of the world, dressed beautifully, with hair done and make up on is the day your toddler also behaves beautifully.  And that just isn't fair.  You could cope with anything on that day.


I'm sad to say, though, that it just doesn't get any better.  You always hope they will grow out of the 'phase' they are in and they do.  Unfortunately, it's just as you've worked out how to deal with that 'phase' and they move into something new, that you have absolutely no idea about.

Teenagers can be particularly tricky.  They start to have their own opinions and voice them.  If you argue with them they are always right (even when they're not) and even worse sometimes they are right and you end up looking stupid.  They have more stress in their lives (living out their teachers stressful targets) than anyone should have to cope with and they have hormones doing really weird things to their bodies.

A colleague told me today that her daughter once said to her, "I DO have hormones, you know!", to which my colleague snapped, "So do I!"  And although, it is possible to be sympathetic about a teenage girls hormones it can be quite difficult when you are rapidly approaching 50 and your hormones seem to be having a private party of their own.

This week I have 2 teenagers in the school play, one who is doing A levels and dealing with University offers or rejections.  That might be quite stressful but it's Christmas and I am a music teacher with no voice and a very sore throat.

With both children out my long suffering husband wondered what we might do with our evening.  It's quite sad but we settled on cleaning out a cupboard and tidying the bookshelf.  We know how to live!