Dirty Protests!

Dirty Protests!

This is me throwing my hands in the air and asking for help from anyone who can offer advice re dealing with dirty protests, ie mucking up (and I mean really ‘mucking up’ bedrooms and beds.

It started with Sausage having an accident in his bed, so I moved him out for the night into the spare bed in Darlek’s room.  Then I washed the duvet in the bath, sorted the mattress out, turned it over and put him back in it.  This happened again (not really his fault, I forgot to put a nappy on) so again he was put back in Darlek’s room for a couple of nights.  Again I washed the duvet etc.  Waterproof sheets can only cope with so much mess and it was necessary.

Then he had an accident in the spare bed, so I had to wash the sleeping bag and the thin mattress and he slept top to toe in his sister’s bed while I sorted that.  The other duvet wasn’t dry at that point.

After this we had a bust up one bedtime and he ended up crying and screaming and being obnoxious.  I left him in Darlek’s room to calm down as that was where he was sleeping, whilst sat on the stairs I peeped in through the door and spotted him purposefully taking his nappy off and weeing on his bed.  He was banned from the iPad for a week and wasn’t allowed to choose what he wanted to watch on the TV.

Then I found a puddle of wet stuff on my ‘puter chair (twice) and he eventually admitted it was him.  And there were further incidents where I found wet patches on his bedroom floor where he claimed to have spilt a drink (which he definitely hadn’t done).  On top of this, as if it wasn’t enough, I have also found a waterproof wash basket with wee washing around at the bottom of it.  There’s been far too many incidents to mention them all, and I am at the absolute end of my tether with it all.

To top it all off, last night the little monster had an argument with his dad at bedtime – he always gets really mardy when he’s tired.  He demanded 5 bedtime songs, but as it was late Horace said he could have 3 instead (plus his usual bed time stories) so he went mad and shouted and screamed and yelled.  Horace did not give into this and said he would only read his stories and let him have his songs if he calmed down.  Sausage refused and I heard him shout over and over again ‘I hate you Daddy!’  We ignored him and eventually he calmed down, whereupon Horace let him have his songs and his bed time story and he went to sleep.

This morning he woke up and I think he had revenge on the brain.  His duvet is covered in wee and poo, he has smeared it on his cabin bed, he has weed on the floor.  It stinks in there.  I had to shower him before he went to school and simply told him that we would discuss the consequences of this horrendous behaviour this evening as I think it needs some careful consideration.  Twice we have removed iPad privileges for a week, he’s had toys taken off him because of it, TV viewing has been restricted.  I don’t know what to do next.

What I do know is that the duvet is beyond repair.  I shall bin that today, I suspect the mattress will have to go the same way too very soon.   The carpet pongs, I will have to scrub everything somehow.  I’m tempted to take all of his toys out of his bedroom until his behaviour improves. I don’t want to offer rewards for not behaving like this because he’ll start thinking that if he misbehaves he’ll be offered nice things.

Help!  He’s 4 years old and has just started school.  I’m not sure if this is what has unsettled him, then again some elements of this behaviour were going on before he started school, it’s just got worse.  I’m disgusted, upset and very angry although I try not to show this to him.  I’ve told him he makes me sad, that I’m disappointed, and he just smiles at me with a very evil smirk.  I asked him why he did this sort of thing the other day, and he just sidled up to me and whispered ‘Cos I wanted to…’  I’m considering putting him in a tent outside in the back yard to sleep.

HELP!!!!!!

Ducks and Waaaaahs!

Ducks love it around here, there’s always tons of them quacking happily away in the river at the bottom of the hill.  Whenever we walk down the road Darlek peers over the bridge and I pick Sausage up so he can peer over too.  We play counting ducks, and I’ve even expanded into counting them in French to encourage Sausage to use his new found language skills. (We’ve enrolled him in French lessons at nursery)  The conversation goes something like this:

Sausage: ‘Ducks!’  (Points at pigeons flapping further upstream)

Me: ‘No love, they’re pigeons.’

Darlek: ‘Can we feed them?’

Me: ‘I’ve forgotten the bread sorry’ (I ALWAYS forget to bring bread, one day I’ll remember)

Sausage: ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, eight, twelve…fifteen’

Darlek: ‘I can count them!’ ‘One, two, three, four…….’  (correctly of course)

Me: ‘Shall we count them in french?’

Darlek ‘I can do that!  Listen mum!’  (counts correctly again except with a huge grin this time)

Sausage: ‘Oon, doo, twa, catrat…..(big pause)’

Anyway, we count ducks, it helps to break up the journey and I don’t think the ducks mind being counted at.  The point is, I swear there’s more and more of them every day – and do you know why?  It’s because it’s so damn wet around here!  They love it and can’t get enough of the soggy weather.  We seem to have spent hours trogging around in the pouring rain recently. We’ll be turning into ducks soon.  I cannot wait until summer when we have sunshine and the heat bounces back off the walls as we pass.

I digress, as I always do.  This morning we were late on the school run, mainly because Sausage has become really, really obstinate.  Almost anything I ask him to do is ignored or argued with.  The mornings have become rather stressful because of the ‘Waaaahs!’ when I ask him to put his hat on, and the ‘Waaaahs!’ when I try and wrestle him into his coat.  In fact, I think it’s fair to say I’m a bit sick of the ‘Waaaaahs!’

Darlek is still being very co-operative and gets herself dressed and is no trouble at all.  I can’t wait until Sausage is at the same stage.  The contrast is unbelievable.

Today, whilst walking home from nursery we had a battle of the ‘Waaaahs!’  I think everyone has seen that advert where the mum gets fed up of the stropping child and throws herself down on the floor in a shop and tantrums so badly, that her child stops being obnoxious and simply stares in amazement.  I didn’t quite do that, but sort of.  I ‘Waaaahed!’ back at him.  Luckily (or unluckily depending on how you look at it) it was chucking it down so the streets were fairly empty.  Sausage was ‘Waaahing’ because I’d refused to buy cookies and he was putting the full force of his lungs and his willpower into yelling and dragging on my arm.  So, every time he Waahed (I’m bored of apostrophes), I copied him.

He went on for a while, looking puzzled at me every now and then. I started changing the Waaaah slightly so it kind of harmonised with him, and joked at him that we were having a ‘a right good sing song’ and so it went on, all the way down the hill.  I did high Waaaahs, I did low Waaaaahs, I warbled my Waaaahs; it’s fair to say I turned Waaaaahing into an art form.  Eventually he gave up and laughed at me which was such a relief.  I could not have kept it up whilst walking into the school yard, although I claim not to be bothered about what other mums think of me, I do a little.

My little monster then simply kicked up his heels in his Lightening McQueen Cars wellies and jogged off in front of me looking for his spaceship, which is the building around the corner from school that has a lot of railings around it.  Don’t ask me why it’s a spaceship, it just is.  There are three spaceships on the school run, all of which are buildings or little enclaves for plants that are surrounded with railings.  Odd, but he loves clambering around them and jabbering on about take offs, aliens and space food.

I arrived on time to pick Darlek up from school, despite the Waaaahing and we walked home with one of her school friends and her mum.  Darlek has got herself a best friend and it’s so cute to see her chattering on at her about homework and the party that she went to with her the other week.  I love seeing her happy, and she so obviously is because she has a partner in crime and someone to share her little school dramas with.

Because our kids get on so well, I’ve begun talking to her mum a little too, and in the same way, I’ve also found it nice to chat about stuff and nonsense.  Just passing the time of day with another adult, even if it is just for 10 minutes of the day, is refreshing.   It’s so hard to keep up with people when you have kids, well I find it is anyway. I’m always rushing here there and everywhere and with Waaahing and Duck-counting it’s almost impossible to spend time building links with other parents.  Besides, the mums in the playground scare me, which is ridiculous, but I can’t help it.  The number of times I’ve looked at other mums and thought ‘I bet they don’t wear odd socks every day of the week like me’ and stared at my shoes.

At least Darlek seems to be doing well socially.  Nothing makes me happier than seeing her playing with her friends and laughing with them on the playground or on the school run.  It reassures me that I’ve not broken her, at least not yet, I must be doing something right.  She’s a chatty, giggly, upbeat little madam and I’d not have her any other way.  Sausage will turn out OK too I’m sure.  I think he might have broken me though.  It’s just not dignified or normal to wander along a street having a Waaaaahing battle is it?

Jelly Snakes and Rainstorms

It has been virtually hurricane weather today, as far as English hurricanes go that is.  The river at the bottom of the hill looks twice its size and about six times as fast.  I’ve heard the wind howling around the roof whilst in the attic and seriously wondered if I it might blow off and should I move things downstairs and all in all it’s been a crappy, crappy January day.

But still, some things must always be done!  Darlek has to be walked to school and back with Sausage in tow, no matter what the weather brings.  It’s only just after Xmas so I’ve just been getting back into the swing of the school run, and it’s not pleasant!

This morning I gave Sausage marmite on toast for breakfast, he wasn’t happy and demanded honey on toast instead and threw it on the floor.  I resolutely picked up the carpet encrusted toast and told him he’d have no such thing because there wasn’t time and that sort of behaviour wasn’t going to earn him any favours.  So he screamed  and yowled ‘Tooooaast!’ at the top of his lungs over and over and over again whilst fighting me off him as I tried to get him ready to go out.  He refused to put his hat on, his gloves on, his coat on, or his wellies and simply flailed around yelling.  Darlek tried to save the day by doing welly puppets with her hand, but even talking welly boots wouldn’t cheer him up.

No way was he  moving!  In the end  I physically picked him up, coatless, wellyless, hatless, scarfless and joyless, and plonked him in the pouring rain on the wall outside the house.  I had no alternative, Darlek was going to be late and he just couldn’t be allowed to get away with behaviour like this.  I locked the door so he couldn’t get back in, although he tried whilst padding around in the puddles in his socks.

Sausage pounded on our front door, shouting ‘Tooooaast!’, alternating between an aggressive ‘Help me I’m being attacked’ tone and an ‘I’m very, very badly hurt!’ tone. I swear I saw curtains twitching. Maybe they thought I was a terrible mum, having him out in such awful monsoon weather so underprepared.  Who gives a flying feck.  He was not going to win this battle.

Eventually he put his wellies and his coat on, although he was still screaming blue murder and refused his hat and gloves.  We began the trek down the  hill – Darlek and I had to cajole him every step of the way, as he stood still, raised his hands in the air in desperation and howled ‘Tooooooaaast!’ every few yards.  It was a nightmare and we were terribly late.

My neibour came out of his house at this point and I felt so embarrassed.  I thought he’ll have heard all the screaming and yelling and will be wondering if I’ve been beating my kids or something.  As it was, he offered us a lift down the hill and once we’d got Sausage in the car (again a difficult feat, he decided he didn’t want a lift) – my neibour simply said he knew what it was like to have a family and chuckled at me going on about honey on toast tantrums, wet socks and Daisy making welly puppets.  Consequently we were on time, and I was very grateful for the help this morning.

And we had to do it all over again this afternoon!  This time Sausage simply flung his wellies off all the time, saying his socks were ‘itchy!’ ie, he was wearing ravenous sock-eating welly boots.  Again his feet were soaking.  It pelted it down with rain, and we had to keep having ‘itchy – foot’ stops.  Again we were on time though!  But this was not the end of the traumas.

I bobbed into the shop to buy some milk and let both kids have huge jelly snakes as a treat.  This meant that Sausage slowed down considerably on the route home, in the rain, and the wind, and the cold – because he was having an indepth conversation with his jelly snake about which team the snake was on or something.  I think Jelly Snake was on the Bad Team personally because he made all of us walk very slowly and risk pneumonia.

We got home, soaked to the skin.  Horace arrived home late because our car stalled after navigating a ford, the kids were bickering, it’s been awful. Sausage began spitting because of the hairs Jelly Snake had picked up because he’d got sticky from the rain and from being carried around so much.  I know Sausage hates hairs in his mouth with a passion – but I still can’t excuse spitting!  Some of the doors handles are ‘orrid and stickly too now because of Jelly Snake’s antics.

The one thing that has made today bearable is my daughter.  This morning she got herself up and dressed, shoes on, teeth brushed…everything.  Brilliant!  When her brother was acting like a badly behaved banshee and I’d completely lost my temper, I saw her sat in the middle of the living room with her arms wrapped around him as he sobbed hysterically.  Darlek was comforting him as best she could because she knew I just couldn’t cope with his irrational, aggressive behaviour anymore.  He wouldn’t take the comfort from me anyway, if I’d have tried it would simply have prompted louder shouting and more of his new fad, which is door slamming.  Darlek is such a love and I’m so grateful for her support.  She is only just reaching 7 years old, but she has the calmness and compassion of a child much older than her years.  This morning, she put me to shame.

And you know what…we have to do this all over again tomorrow morning and this evening the wind and rain howling down the road outside our window, sounds like a train.  I hope it’s sunny tomorrow! If it’s not, I think I may just refuse to get up or hide under the bed.  Anything to avoid the school run. Anything! *whimpers*