Wednesday, April 25, 2007


Having several children means that they all have their own favourite ways of doing things. Now this is good in the sense that I want all my children to be decisive in their likes and dislikes, their opinions, but when they actually put it into practice at 8.00am every weekday morning before school I find myself wishing that they were spineless wimps willing to put my every command into practice,eh,I mean more compliant with me.

At breakfast time Audrey 5 years old, likes her toast buttered and the rounded crusts at the top cut off. Sarah 6, likes hers 'burnt twice' with no butter. Lara, 11, likes extra butter and Rachel, 15, likes hers buttered with marmalade. Cereals have to come in several varieties and poured into favourite bowls, eaten with big spoons on some mornings and little spoons on others. God forbid I get it wrong. Apple juice or orange juice. Big glasses or little glasses. Major decisions like these can take time and attempts at hurrying them up can result in any one of them breaking into floods of tears. I 'm surprised that my new hardwood floors haven't warped by now.

Then there's their hair styles. Rachel likes hers trimmed regularly and straightened daily. Lara likes me to put her long hair put into a pony tail at least seven times each morning until the required all over smoothness has been achieved. This is checked with a mirror in front and a mirror behind and many cried of 'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME'

Sarah likes to change between plaits and pony tails and Audrey, well Audrey likes to cry while her hair is being brushed and wont make up her mind on a hairstyle until all the others have finished breakfast and are seated in the car checking to see if the horn works without the engine being turned on. Try explaining that one to the angry neighbours with no kids.

Any attempts to sneak a pony tail or plait into Audreys hair are foiled when she pulls the bobbins out over and over again and finally runs quickly into the bathroom locking the door behind her. Through the keyhole I can spy her singing with her fingers in her ears while I try to coax her out by talking to the door. I have been known to read to her from the School Rules book including Paragraph 7 where it stipulates all hair must be tied back in order to bore her out of the room. If this doesn't work I have a nice story I tell her about how headlice return to the same encrusted feeding spot on the scalp to feed time and time again and secrete a substance from their bodies to stop the bitten feeding area from healing over completely. Giving them names seems to help get her out.

Coats have to be excavated from deep deep down the back of the Cloakroom under the stairs where they were flung and buried under four school bags and mountains of pairs of trainers shoes and boots . The next time I see gardening spades on sale at Liddel I'll be first in line as I'm thinking it will come in handy especially after a long weekend.

My husband is blissfully unaware of all this as he leaves the house by 7.00am and I wont be telling him any time soon because in September I am heading off to the USA with four girlfriends leaving him in charge of getting them to school on time. AND it's their first week back after the summer break. But I'll be thinking of him.

1 comment:

mcewen said...

I escaped one [nipped back home for a wedding in a weekend] When I returned back here [USA] having been missing for a mere 72 hours and not involving school, their father worshiped the ground I walked on, I was the woman on the pedestal let me see now......the following couple of days!