The new i- Can Grandparent is something,that no discerning Working Parent should be without.
A relatively new concept in Familial back-up technology, the i-Can has wide market appeal. Latest figures suggest they may be the run away hit in 2010.
Technical Specifications
Size and weight: averaging between 5' 5 and 6'1 and available in both standard or slim line models. The i- Can fits snugly into any available family car and can pack a surprising amount into a very small case. Designed with travel in mind and not susceptible to fluctuations in temperature, due to an inbuilt climate weather predication ...(it looked like a Tsunami ,so I packed a mac?!) the i Can ,will please and impress with its versatility. Equally suited to Public Transport or private conveyance to its destination, it will rarely be out of range and can respond in an emergency at the mere press of a button (the HELP!!!! one)
The i Can is finger print resistant due to its oleo phobic coating. It can display support for multiple situations (inc harassed Mother, irate toddler and incontinent Labrador) and can interpret several conversations simultaneously.
Location
The i-can has assisted GPS and in built digital compass, ideal for fiendishly complicated after- school care arrangements. The i Can can locate and retrieve the impossible, from the foot-well of the car, the cupboard under the stairs and the horror under the bed, where previous models have failed. The Wi fi connection from a remote host called X perience is infallible.
Power and Battery
The i-Can has a built in rechargeable Twinings battery and can also be charged via a USB (Unbelievably Swift Beverage) connection in the nearest Costa or Starbucks outlet.
Talk time is unlimited and the i-Can has a alert standby mode between 00:00 and 06.30 am
Standby time : up to 95 years for the average model.
Video playback and memory recall is superior on this model, notably of events that most Working Parents would choose to forget especially, when the incident is being replayed, by the New Generation. This feature is called PAY BACK!
Audio Playback: a sophisticated format allows freeze frame and continuous replay on all Ladybird Books and Dick King Smith novels for
evening applications (Babysitting)
System requirements
Now compatible with all forms of PC, Mac, and well versed in email, Facebook and Flickr with vast archive access for all homework topics. Having been in the production phase during the past six decades, the i Can has assimilated considerable understanding and answers on all areas of the Web. Simply type Life into the i Can's Google search engine, for instantaneous drop- down of all appropriate resources and solutions.
Sensors
The i Can has state of the art sensitivity with accelerometer for when the occasion arises.
It has a Proximity sensor for the approach of impending financial or emotional disaster and an Ambient light sensor to shine light on particularly challenging problems. Uncanny strategic volume control, differentiates the i-Can from lesser models that have gained negative publicity on the Jeremy Kyle Show.
Environmental requirements
The i-Can functions best when kept in the loop.
Optimum temperature for the Pink gloss model is 32'C to avoid overheating. (see The Change in Operating Manuel) . Non operating temperature; below average room temperature in normal centrally-heated storage facilities.
The i-Can, embodies the Parent Company's continuing commitment to the Next Generation and has rendered itself indispensable to the Modern Working Woman. The i-Can has won awards across the board and as one parent stated, "I don't what I d do without mine!".
Another 1 in a million product brought to you by Adventures in Free-fall Parenting.
Monday, 1 February 2010
Sunday, 31 January 2010
The Bosom of my Family
I think it would be fair to say that the Child Family do enjoy a nice Get-Together!
To an Outsider or a Newcomer, I should imagine the experience of initiation into the Clan, might come as somewhat of a shock; which is to say, that this is not for the fainthearted!
Mine is a Matriarchal family, and yet it revolves around my Father who, like a vivid Sun presides over an oestrogen-heavy Universe. More than sixty five years of enthusiastic breeding and colourful marriages have allowed to the generations to overlap, so that my youngest brother, is a mere four years older than my eldest son. This entirely eliminates any opportunity for a melodramatic teenager, to wail plaintively that, "It's not fair .... NO one understands me?" as invariably, this is impossible if your Uncle is a mere Teen himself? Plus, one is most likely to be told firmly, just to "Get on!" if even contemplating wallowing in self pity within a Family, so awash with theatricals! And of course you could follow my Father's directive that ;If you don't like it here, you can always "Go to the Pub!"
Arriving at a Family party, must be a little like stumbling upon a colony of mating Elephant Seals, in terms of sheer size and volume! You will invariably be crushed to the Family bosom and kissed firmly on each cheek and thereupon asked what you would like to drink? A wall of sound hits you like a juggernaut because my Family LOVES to talk. Loudly. And where possible Shout! In fact there are very few things that my Family doesn't love doing, with the exception of anything to do with Maths or V.A.T.
We eat to too much, smoke to much, drink much too enthusiastically and are demonstrably over affectionate. In short we generally have a hell of a good time. God forbid, if you are about to enter the fold, that you might be Vegan or Shy?
There s no particular criteria for inclusion ,although you might find yourself in a sticky situation if you are Dull, Flat Chested or have Bad Manners? Lest anyone feel inadequate let me explain..
The Child family is noisy, opinionated and prone to getting overexcited. Therefore if you are monosyllabic and say Toilet, Lounge, Settee or PARDON, you're on a fast train to nowhere!
Quirky is good. Eccentric a dead cert, particularly if it makes a good story to tell!
As a Teenager, I tried resolutely to kick back against the Family and was disconcerted to find even militant Evangelical Christianity and Near-Infant Marriage failed to even rock the Family's unswerving devotion to me. Even throwing in a baby or three straight out of University was met with utter acceptance and reassurance that they had utter conviction in my decision making? What the Hell?
So now that I've been cut loose from my marriage, the draw to the Family is irresistible. I don't feel as though I need re branding with the family stamp, rather it is as though, the ties that bind you, become all the stronger when the current threatens to overwhelm you. I never really left.
Arriving at my sister's 21st Birthday Party was so wonderfully reassuring. Even if you have gained enough weight to make you an easy contender for the Bulgarian Olympic female Wrestling Squad, you can be assured that someone will say "Darling you look marvellous and you've lost weight?" before handing you a plate heaped with enough cholesterol laden comfort food to clog the Channel Tunnel. And this is love. The total and complete assurance, that you are unequivocally wanted and that it has never even crossed the collective family consciousness, that you might have failed.. Spectacularly!
I mused as to what particular image embodied the Family and realised that it was something I had possessed all along? The family Bosom. We are a family of statuesque women; both Blond and Brunette, but one of our many defining feature is the hereditary plateau-like bust! Between my Father and his two magnificent sisters collectively known as "The Aunts", twelve nephews and nieces, never mind three grandchildren; have been rocked, bobbed, winded and balanced on the Child Bosom. Even my petite middle sister has ,what could be politely called "ample plenty"! This family does nothing by b cups!
Whilst it was the bane of my adolescence ( I longed to look like Kate Moss)and I was known as "Himalayas" at school; as I wobbled into the uncertainty of Motherhood, I suddenly realised that I drew comfort from the fact that I, just like the strong, brave and determined women in my family; had a bust to be reckoned with! As I looked at my beautiful youngest Sister beside her Mother and our Aunt, I realised that it take balls to carry off a bust like ours?
It our utter conviction ,that us Child Women are indefatigable, that binds my family together, where other families may value brains, success and wealth above all else.
Thus, heady with self-belief and bursting at the seams with enough food to feed a small battalion I headed back around the M25 to that God-Forsaken Outpost in the East (It's Essex, not Siberia Dad!) ready to fight another day.
To an Outsider or a Newcomer, I should imagine the experience of initiation into the Clan, might come as somewhat of a shock; which is to say, that this is not for the fainthearted!
Mine is a Matriarchal family, and yet it revolves around my Father who, like a vivid Sun presides over an oestrogen-heavy Universe. More than sixty five years of enthusiastic breeding and colourful marriages have allowed to the generations to overlap, so that my youngest brother, is a mere four years older than my eldest son. This entirely eliminates any opportunity for a melodramatic teenager, to wail plaintively that, "It's not fair .... NO one understands me?" as invariably, this is impossible if your Uncle is a mere Teen himself? Plus, one is most likely to be told firmly, just to "Get on!" if even contemplating wallowing in self pity within a Family, so awash with theatricals! And of course you could follow my Father's directive that ;If you don't like it here, you can always "Go to the Pub!"
Arriving at a Family party, must be a little like stumbling upon a colony of mating Elephant Seals, in terms of sheer size and volume! You will invariably be crushed to the Family bosom and kissed firmly on each cheek and thereupon asked what you would like to drink? A wall of sound hits you like a juggernaut because my Family LOVES to talk. Loudly. And where possible Shout! In fact there are very few things that my Family doesn't love doing, with the exception of anything to do with Maths or V.A.T.
We eat to too much, smoke to much, drink much too enthusiastically and are demonstrably over affectionate. In short we generally have a hell of a good time. God forbid, if you are about to enter the fold, that you might be Vegan or Shy?
There s no particular criteria for inclusion ,although you might find yourself in a sticky situation if you are Dull, Flat Chested or have Bad Manners? Lest anyone feel inadequate let me explain..
The Child family is noisy, opinionated and prone to getting overexcited. Therefore if you are monosyllabic and say Toilet, Lounge, Settee or PARDON, you're on a fast train to nowhere!
Quirky is good. Eccentric a dead cert, particularly if it makes a good story to tell!
As a Teenager, I tried resolutely to kick back against the Family and was disconcerted to find even militant Evangelical Christianity and Near-Infant Marriage failed to even rock the Family's unswerving devotion to me. Even throwing in a baby or three straight out of University was met with utter acceptance and reassurance that they had utter conviction in my decision making? What the Hell?
So now that I've been cut loose from my marriage, the draw to the Family is irresistible. I don't feel as though I need re branding with the family stamp, rather it is as though, the ties that bind you, become all the stronger when the current threatens to overwhelm you. I never really left.
Arriving at my sister's 21st Birthday Party was so wonderfully reassuring. Even if you have gained enough weight to make you an easy contender for the Bulgarian Olympic female Wrestling Squad, you can be assured that someone will say "Darling you look marvellous and you've lost weight?" before handing you a plate heaped with enough cholesterol laden comfort food to clog the Channel Tunnel. And this is love. The total and complete assurance, that you are unequivocally wanted and that it has never even crossed the collective family consciousness, that you might have failed.. Spectacularly!
I mused as to what particular image embodied the Family and realised that it was something I had possessed all along? The family Bosom. We are a family of statuesque women; both Blond and Brunette, but one of our many defining feature is the hereditary plateau-like bust! Between my Father and his two magnificent sisters collectively known as "The Aunts", twelve nephews and nieces, never mind three grandchildren; have been rocked, bobbed, winded and balanced on the Child Bosom. Even my petite middle sister has ,what could be politely called "ample plenty"! This family does nothing by b cups!
Whilst it was the bane of my adolescence ( I longed to look like Kate Moss)and I was known as "Himalayas" at school; as I wobbled into the uncertainty of Motherhood, I suddenly realised that I drew comfort from the fact that I, just like the strong, brave and determined women in my family; had a bust to be reckoned with! As I looked at my beautiful youngest Sister beside her Mother and our Aunt, I realised that it take balls to carry off a bust like ours?
It our utter conviction ,that us Child Women are indefatigable, that binds my family together, where other families may value brains, success and wealth above all else.
Thus, heady with self-belief and bursting at the seams with enough food to feed a small battalion I headed back around the M25 to that God-Forsaken Outpost in the East (It's Essex, not Siberia Dad!) ready to fight another day.
Saturday, 30 January 2010
"Dear Diary" Homage to Youth
My eldest son stood in the Kitchen this afternoon, his eyes full of rage and hissed "This is CRAP Parenting!!! You obviously were NEVER 13!!!!!!!" then he stormed out, slamming things and people on the way to his bedroom! Later, when he'd stopped swearing and was hungry, he came downstairs and we agreed to haul the Christmas Decorations into the Loft. This is a two person project, as it has to be achieved by dragging things through a ridiculously small hatch and then by crawling on all fours, for a couple of metres, into the loft cavity. Mid manoeuvre, one of us tripped over a cardboard box labelled "Valuables," written in felt tip on the side, in an indisputably teenage scrawl. When it spilled its guts onto the dusty floor, Eldest son and I discovered a Time Capsule of my Adolescence from twelve years old to my early twenties. There were around twelve packs of photos with all the negatives intact and a jumbly collection of "treasures" tangled up in the string from a deflated, helium balloon from my 18th birthday. This box had obviously travelled from London to Colchester in 1999 and had been stowed in the loft and never looked at again.
"God, who is THAT?" asked Eldest Son, aghast, handing me a photo which turned out to be me, aged twelve, smiling sheepishly next to some long forgotten Olympic Hockey Player, who had visited our school. "Er that's me?" I replied. He considered it for a minute "Minging hair Mum... no offence or anything!" So we rummaged further through Carol concert sheets, faded snaps of myself and his Godmother at various ages until suddenly in the corner of the box I spied the curling corners of a Jackie Diary, 1987. Tossing it Eldest Son ,I nonchalantly said " ...here this might amuse you". And so sitting amongst his baby toys and bags of babygroes, Eldest Son settled down to come face to face with his Mother's 14 year old self. And he stayed there for two hours until his feet turned to ice and his bum was numb.
So in tribute to Noo, Joey, Beaka and Melly some genuine excerpts from " Dear Diary" (cliched I know, but I d just read Ann Frank!)
Wednesday 11th Feb 1987
Dear Diary.
Terrible French test. Made Fish Pie in Cookery. YUK. Came home and read some of the "Meat Book" cried and went to bed. Will become a vegetarian in the morning.
Tuesday 25th March 1987
Dear Diary
Went to the Science Museum. Boring. 1 hour lecture on Chemistry. 1 hour lecture on Physics. YAWN. Caught R Matthews and R Ellery having a fag in the toilet with A. Sturgess. Disgusting!
Saturday 18th April 1987
Dear Diary
M spilled Coke on my clothes so I had to get a new outfit for the Roller disco tonight. Went to the Roller disco and I got asked to go out with this boy? J was sexually harassed by someone pulling her sleeve and at the end some bitchy girls wouldn't let me get my bag and a boy kept touching the back of my legs? YUK! Wore my Snazzy earrings.
Saturday 16th May 1987
Dear Diary
Did Prep all afternoon. Went to Roller Disco and met Marcus and Bob from the last time. Marcus is going to tell Bob to tell MARK that I want to go out with him. N wants to to go out with Marcus but now I think I love him? Shaved my legs when I got home to take my mind off it. OWWWWWW!
Thursday 11th June 1987
Thatcher won the General Election. Now We ve got the BITCH for another 5 years. Watched Dynasty and felt better. Watched a film called K'tang Yang Kipper bang which had sex in it nearly!
Tuesday 13th october 1987
Did Prep til 10 PM after school. Julia saw DANIEL at the Roller disco on Saturday and he kissed her TWICE!!!!!! one normal kiss and 1 Frenchy....Lucky Girl.....
Saturday 19th December 1987
Had to go to the Labour Party Christmas bazaar. Why are they so hairy? Then came home and G made us watch "When the wind blows" about Nuclear war. Depressed. Watched "The Slipper and the Rose " secretly in the Study with the light off to cheer me up!
So eldest son finished his riveting read and chucking the diary onto the Coffee table he sloped off to the fridge again. "So?" I enquired "You see I was a teenger once!". He stared at me incredulously and said " You had it really easy, I have to deal with REALLY serious and stressful stuff!" He wandered out of the kitchen, but not before he threw back over his shoulder... "Oh and Mum? Y' know you are still quite SAD!"Thursday, 28 January 2010
The A- Z of Single Parenting; O to Z
O- Organisation.This skill sums up the grass roots of successful Single Parenting. Sadly it is the thing I am least talented at. A beloved friend of mine, had it sussed within weeks of her abandonment by a AWOL husband and armed with a million lists complete with timescales; attacked the barren Northern Face of flying solo, with gusto. Nothing could be done without a very Strong cup of tea, a notepad and her diary. Organisation is key if you are to hold down a job, that is ;if you want a snowball's chance in Hell of anyone taking you seriously and also, to avoid your offspring suffering from neglect. An organised Single Parent deftly handling clashing School Performances, Business calls, dental appointments and Tesco deliveries is poetry in motion.
P - Pants. This can be used as an adjective to describe the sort of day you've had but actually is a living nightmare of the cotton variety. If you accidentally miss a whites wash, after a day of work and exhausting dramas, then the next morning the full horror of the dawning realisation that there are no clean pants, hits you like an express train. Older boys can be bribed to wear their swimming trunks (oh yes!) but nothing will coax a seven year old girl, in need of her big cotton M&S best, into a bikini bottom. Hence mid school run, a certain parent has been known to screech to a halt outside a well -known supermarket and hurl herself towards the Children's Clothing section, grabbing the nearest 5 -pack of High School Musical briefs and pelting hell for cotton to the self serve. Of course the moral of this sorry tale is, that on reaching the car she will discover she has inadvertently picked up age 12-13years.......
Q - Quality time... for whom? When??
R- Rest and relaxation; is either acquired in bed, between midnight and six am, or on a "Night Out" with the Girls. Both require strenuous planning and determination to achieve the desired outcome. The former, because you might well have permanent residents who share your bed (and have done since your Ex left!) and the latter because every conspiracy known to womankind, will psyche itself up to stop you teetering out of that front door, clutching a ridiculously small handbag and your lip gloss! But Rest and Relaxation should be taken in moderation ,for fear that some kindly soul will comment on how easy your lot is and they don't know why you make such a fuss about this single parenting lark! You've been warned!
S - Sex. Not for the faint hearted. Any newly single Parent will tell you they would rather have hot bath and a cup of tea. But as time passes and the winking lights of Internet Dating Sites begin to pop up on your home page (How do they know?? Do you have a "Dumped" label on your back??) you are drawn by the lure of Match.com and E-Harmonie. Hours are wasted fruitlessly trolling through pages of "too short", "too tall", "too stupid" and "pig ugly" and the search engine despondently tells you it has zero hits, when you type in "Kind". Anyone making a foray into this emotional bargain basement should remind themselves that there s always a reason why these men are single.... Rebound sex is apparently like running a Marathon in Clogs. Go figure.....
T- Tidy. This is the compromise that Single Parenthood forces on your house pride. It supersedes clean!
U - Unwelcome Revelations. The bug bear of many a a single parent. Some score right up there with being poked in the eye with a blunt stick. For example the Dental Nurse who asks ,as she sucks your saliva out of your mouth with the noisy plastic tube, whether you are related to the man who has the same surname as you? And without waiting for your reply, commenting that she went out with him in 2001.... approximately half-way through your marriage....
V - Violence. To be restricted to daydreams about how your Ex could get their comeuppance and occasionally against inanimate objects such as bollards (reversing to fast) saucepans (falling out of disorganised cupboards)shopping trolleys (they deserve it) and Hi Fi systems (which bounce when thrown!)
W - Willies. Nothing can prepare you as a Mother, for having to handle your adolescent son's questions and anxiety about his Willy. Your mind screams, "This is not my bloody job, where s his Father when you need him!?" So I did what any good Single Mum would do...... bought a book on how to care for your willy (yes there really is one), several copies of Nuts magazine, four boxes of Kleenex and put a lock on his bedroom door. Job done and for the first time in his Life my Son is an avid reader. Big Parental Brownie points!
X - is for Kisses XXX. The only ones you ll get are on homemade cards which suddenly become more precious than diamonds. These paper offering s will clog your underwear drawer long after your little darlings have flown the roost!
Y- Yes. I have developed a full blown case of Yes syndrome. I suspected it was a genetic flaw but it has taken on a life of it's own, leaving me completely incapacitated above and beyond anything my own Mother suffers from. I say "Yes" I will take seven children and two crazy dogs sledging in the Dark; "Yes" of course I ll take on totally unnecessary emotional responsibility for Friends, Friends' s disturbed adolescents, lost and abandoned psychopaths, drunks, drug addicts, pathological idiots etc etc. Why ? Why simply because there, but for the grace of God go I; and I know that if it was me that I would be swamped with offers of help and support from those who are themselves in the least suitable position to help, but they still offer.
Z - My addiction, widespread amongst Single Parents; Sleep (Zzzzzzzzzzz). I crave it , fantasize about it, plan for illicit liaisons with it, in snatched moments between work and the school run! Its allure is irresistible and beckons me from the furry blanket softness of the sofa when I should writing University essays or loading the dishwasher. I am helpless with desire and succumb almost every time... Just 5 mins.........
Did you know that Life could be this exciting!!!
P - Pants. This can be used as an adjective to describe the sort of day you've had but actually is a living nightmare of the cotton variety. If you accidentally miss a whites wash, after a day of work and exhausting dramas, then the next morning the full horror of the dawning realisation that there are no clean pants, hits you like an express train. Older boys can be bribed to wear their swimming trunks (oh yes!) but nothing will coax a seven year old girl, in need of her big cotton M&S best, into a bikini bottom. Hence mid school run, a certain parent has been known to screech to a halt outside a well -known supermarket and hurl herself towards the Children's Clothing section, grabbing the nearest 5 -pack of High School Musical briefs and pelting hell for cotton to the self serve. Of course the moral of this sorry tale is, that on reaching the car she will discover she has inadvertently picked up age 12-13years.......
Q - Quality time... for whom? When??
R- Rest and relaxation; is either acquired in bed, between midnight and six am, or on a "Night Out" with the Girls. Both require strenuous planning and determination to achieve the desired outcome. The former, because you might well have permanent residents who share your bed (and have done since your Ex left!) and the latter because every conspiracy known to womankind, will psyche itself up to stop you teetering out of that front door, clutching a ridiculously small handbag and your lip gloss! But Rest and Relaxation should be taken in moderation ,for fear that some kindly soul will comment on how easy your lot is and they don't know why you make such a fuss about this single parenting lark! You've been warned!
S - Sex. Not for the faint hearted. Any newly single Parent will tell you they would rather have hot bath and a cup of tea. But as time passes and the winking lights of Internet Dating Sites begin to pop up on your home page (How do they know?? Do you have a "Dumped" label on your back??) you are drawn by the lure of Match.com and E-Harmonie. Hours are wasted fruitlessly trolling through pages of "too short", "too tall", "too stupid" and "pig ugly" and the search engine despondently tells you it has zero hits, when you type in "Kind". Anyone making a foray into this emotional bargain basement should remind themselves that there s always a reason why these men are single.... Rebound sex is apparently like running a Marathon in Clogs. Go figure.....
T- Tidy. This is the compromise that Single Parenthood forces on your house pride. It supersedes clean!
U - Unwelcome Revelations. The bug bear of many a a single parent. Some score right up there with being poked in the eye with a blunt stick. For example the Dental Nurse who asks ,as she sucks your saliva out of your mouth with the noisy plastic tube, whether you are related to the man who has the same surname as you? And without waiting for your reply, commenting that she went out with him in 2001.... approximately half-way through your marriage....
V - Violence. To be restricted to daydreams about how your Ex could get their comeuppance and occasionally against inanimate objects such as bollards (reversing to fast) saucepans (falling out of disorganised cupboards)shopping trolleys (they deserve it) and Hi Fi systems (which bounce when thrown!)
W - Willies. Nothing can prepare you as a Mother, for having to handle your adolescent son's questions and anxiety about his Willy. Your mind screams, "This is not my bloody job, where s his Father when you need him!?" So I did what any good Single Mum would do...... bought a book on how to care for your willy (yes there really is one), several copies of Nuts magazine, four boxes of Kleenex and put a lock on his bedroom door. Job done and for the first time in his Life my Son is an avid reader. Big Parental Brownie points!
X - is for Kisses XXX. The only ones you ll get are on homemade cards which suddenly become more precious than diamonds. These paper offering s will clog your underwear drawer long after your little darlings have flown the roost!
Y- Yes. I have developed a full blown case of Yes syndrome. I suspected it was a genetic flaw but it has taken on a life of it's own, leaving me completely incapacitated above and beyond anything my own Mother suffers from. I say "Yes" I will take seven children and two crazy dogs sledging in the Dark; "Yes" of course I ll take on totally unnecessary emotional responsibility for Friends, Friends' s disturbed adolescents, lost and abandoned psychopaths, drunks, drug addicts, pathological idiots etc etc. Why ? Why simply because there, but for the grace of God go I; and I know that if it was me that I would be swamped with offers of help and support from those who are themselves in the least suitable position to help, but they still offer.
Z - My addiction, widespread amongst Single Parents; Sleep (Zzzzzzzzzzz). I crave it , fantasize about it, plan for illicit liaisons with it, in snatched moments between work and the school run! Its allure is irresistible and beckons me from the furry blanket softness of the sofa when I should writing University essays or loading the dishwasher. I am helpless with desire and succumb almost every time... Just 5 mins.........
Did you know that Life could be this exciting!!!
The A to Z of Single Parenting; A -N
A* - Adultery; usual cause of one Spouse ending up with sole care the Children. Alternative A is A*sehole; descriptive term, which should be muttered through gritted teeth when Estranged Spouse complains how exhausting their life is (ON THEIR OWN!!!!)
B - Baggage; how the Single Parent might describe their Ex's new partner, or alternatively the term used to describe the main cause of the Single Parent being unable to form a new, lasting relationship. Usually refers to extensive emotional scarring, as a result of A* (Please refer)
C - Children, the sole Priority of the Single Parent, scoring way above Work, Social Life, Financial Security and Sleep. Tend to come in sets of two or three and are high maintenance and eat a lot. The Single Parent , becomes known to aforementioned Children as, "the Bad Guy", on the grounds of having to enforce teeth brushing, hair washing, homework-beasting,TV restricting etc
D - Divorce: an expensive, soul- destroying experience, involving a lot of paperwork, trips to heinously expensive Lawyers and new (unwanted) understanding of areas of Law such as Custody and Alimony. Common theme of Jacqueline Wilson novels aimed at disturbed Pre teens.
E- Experience, What you are supposed to put the previous category down to! However realistically Divorce will be filed under B. E could also refer to Emotional Scarring which is largely invisible except under moments of extreme duress at which point the Single Parent may use explosive language and rant along a theme of "It's not Bl**dy fair, why me?????"
F - Father. This refers to the Parent who usually; although not always, left the Family Home. Known to the Children as, "the Good Guy" who takes them bowling or swimming and invariably to Pizza Hut, once a week. Usually says "Yes" to most requests of the Children and "No" to all the requests of the Mother. Has no responsibility for discipline, a*se wiping,sickbed nursing, laundry maintenance, meal provision, homework supervision, dental/medical/optician visits, Parents Evenings, cake sale baking, after- school- club taxi service or anything in relation to Childcare. ( see C)
G - Grandparents.;the bedrock of the Single Parent. A Lifeline, who provide emergency Childcare, a shoulder to cry on and fill the gap left by the missing Parent. Possessed of abnormal levels of patience, compassion and moral support and should be given Living Sainthood or at least MBE's for services to the Single Parent. Can be called on at the last minute for all kinds of crisis; financial, psychological and when the Single Parent finds themselves floored with illness preventing them being able to do the school run or a provide nutritious supper?
H - Humour; the best weapon against the kind of mishaps that befall the Single Parent. Humour should be applied liberally to all the major parenting disasters such as; Childcare failure, expensive car repairs, sudden unexpected bills, school exclusions,invasions of vermin in the ground floor of houses, ridiculous and unwarranted criticism from ex- spouse, and particularly to deflect playground rumours, as to why you are; single/ fatter/ late to collect/why your child has non- matching socks/a missing school bag/ why your child has turned up in costume a month too early for Romans day? Utilise where applicable.
I- Ignorance. This is a state of mind familiar to the Single Parent of a Teenager, who has suddenly committed some sort of inexplicable act of destruction/emotional deviance/willful neglect/defiance which leaves the Single Parent agog with disbelief and unable to answer the question directed at them of "Why???" Despite vigorous soul searching ,the state of baffled ignorance may persist and advice of friends and wider family should be sought to resolve the situation!
J - Jelly Beans. A useful source of on-the-hoof energy replenishment ,for the Single Parent attempting to defy the laws of gravity/logic/time in order to fulfill their obligations and get to every appointment within a ludicrously small timescale. May be found at the bottom of handbags with a light coating of fluff and have a tendency to ad her to the screen of mobile phones.
K - Karma. The hope of the Single Parent, that the absent Parent will "get theirs!" Sadly a mythical expectation up there with Emotional Fulfillment and Enough Sleep.
L - Loo. The terror of the Single Mum ,who has to send her sons unaccompanied to the Men's Toilets. As they disappear into the ceramic abyss, the Single Mother has been known to hover nervously with the main Loo door ajar, calling plaintively to her sons until they return purple with embarrassment that their foolish parent should think, they would meet their doom in ASDA!
M - Mother. The female Single Parent; often referred to as the bane of Modern Society by the Tabloids for crimes against humanity such as: holding the family together, trying to raise morally upright, kind, sensitive sons who won't turn out like their father; sole bread winner etc. Widely considered to be sponging, fag- smoking, curler wearing harridans, up there with Evil Stepmothers.
N- Noise. A persistent problem in households where offspring outnumber the sole parent. Single Parents often evolve the ability to turn all sound disturbance, in White Noise, which occurs outside their realm of consciousness thus allowing them to continue writing essays for University, make incredibly important phone calls and watch their favourite programme on TV. This phenomenon makes these individuals particularly suited to loud and confrontational situations. Which is just as well really!
B - Baggage; how the Single Parent might describe their Ex's new partner, or alternatively the term used to describe the main cause of the Single Parent being unable to form a new, lasting relationship. Usually refers to extensive emotional scarring, as a result of A* (Please refer)
C - Children, the sole Priority of the Single Parent, scoring way above Work, Social Life, Financial Security and Sleep. Tend to come in sets of two or three and are high maintenance and eat a lot. The Single Parent , becomes known to aforementioned Children as, "the Bad Guy", on the grounds of having to enforce teeth brushing, hair washing, homework-beasting,TV restricting etc
D - Divorce: an expensive, soul- destroying experience, involving a lot of paperwork, trips to heinously expensive Lawyers and new (unwanted) understanding of areas of Law such as Custody and Alimony. Common theme of Jacqueline Wilson novels aimed at disturbed Pre teens.
E- Experience, What you are supposed to put the previous category down to! However realistically Divorce will be filed under B. E could also refer to Emotional Scarring which is largely invisible except under moments of extreme duress at which point the Single Parent may use explosive language and rant along a theme of "It's not Bl**dy fair, why me?????"
F - Father. This refers to the Parent who usually; although not always, left the Family Home. Known to the Children as, "the Good Guy" who takes them bowling or swimming and invariably to Pizza Hut, once a week. Usually says "Yes" to most requests of the Children and "No" to all the requests of the Mother. Has no responsibility for discipline, a*se wiping,sickbed nursing, laundry maintenance, meal provision, homework supervision, dental/medical/optician visits, Parents Evenings, cake sale baking, after- school- club taxi service or anything in relation to Childcare. ( see C)
G - Grandparents.;the bedrock of the Single Parent. A Lifeline, who provide emergency Childcare, a shoulder to cry on and fill the gap left by the missing Parent. Possessed of abnormal levels of patience, compassion and moral support and should be given Living Sainthood or at least MBE's for services to the Single Parent. Can be called on at the last minute for all kinds of crisis; financial, psychological and when the Single Parent finds themselves floored with illness preventing them being able to do the school run or a provide nutritious supper?
H - Humour; the best weapon against the kind of mishaps that befall the Single Parent. Humour should be applied liberally to all the major parenting disasters such as; Childcare failure, expensive car repairs, sudden unexpected bills, school exclusions,invasions of vermin in the ground floor of houses, ridiculous and unwarranted criticism from ex- spouse, and particularly to deflect playground rumours, as to why you are; single/ fatter/ late to collect/why your child has non- matching socks/a missing school bag/ why your child has turned up in costume a month too early for Romans day? Utilise where applicable.
I- Ignorance. This is a state of mind familiar to the Single Parent of a Teenager, who has suddenly committed some sort of inexplicable act of destruction/emotional deviance/willful neglect/defiance which leaves the Single Parent agog with disbelief and unable to answer the question directed at them of "Why???" Despite vigorous soul searching ,the state of baffled ignorance may persist and advice of friends and wider family should be sought to resolve the situation!
J - Jelly Beans. A useful source of on-the-hoof energy replenishment ,for the Single Parent attempting to defy the laws of gravity/logic/time in order to fulfill their obligations and get to every appointment within a ludicrously small timescale. May be found at the bottom of handbags with a light coating of fluff and have a tendency to ad her to the screen of mobile phones.
K - Karma. The hope of the Single Parent, that the absent Parent will "get theirs!" Sadly a mythical expectation up there with Emotional Fulfillment and Enough Sleep.
L - Loo. The terror of the Single Mum ,who has to send her sons unaccompanied to the Men's Toilets. As they disappear into the ceramic abyss, the Single Mother has been known to hover nervously with the main Loo door ajar, calling plaintively to her sons until they return purple with embarrassment that their foolish parent should think, they would meet their doom in ASDA!
M - Mother. The female Single Parent; often referred to as the bane of Modern Society by the Tabloids for crimes against humanity such as: holding the family together, trying to raise morally upright, kind, sensitive sons who won't turn out like their father; sole bread winner etc. Widely considered to be sponging, fag- smoking, curler wearing harridans, up there with Evil Stepmothers.
N- Noise. A persistent problem in households where offspring outnumber the sole parent. Single Parents often evolve the ability to turn all sound disturbance, in White Noise, which occurs outside their realm of consciousness thus allowing them to continue writing essays for University, make incredibly important phone calls and watch their favourite programme on TV. This phenomenon makes these individuals particularly suited to loud and confrontational situations. Which is just as well really!
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
If - with apologies to Rudyard Kipling
If
If you can find the missing sock and make at once a pair
and remove from the letterbox the Remote ,that's firmly wedged in there
If you can sort out chewing gum that's stuck in Someone's hair
and never once complain that you re knackered and it's not FAIR!
If you can wait for hours and hours and not be tired of waiting
at checkouts, garages, dry cleaners and school run queues
or read about endless celebrities' moans and not give in to hating?
If you can hold down a job somehow juggle childcare too
and bite back violent urge to swear, when a sock dyes everything blue,
If you can even summon humour ,when your house looks like a zoo
and find inner tranquility listening to Steve Wright on Radio 2.
If you can avoid a ticket when dropping kids to school
and bake cakes or write
lists while taking a conference call
and keep your professional cool?
If you know all the Pokemon rules and "get" Twitter? Blogs and Facebook?
Or you turn a blind eye in the kitchen, when The Yoof decide to cook
or understand she's got "Nothing to Wear" to comply with the latest look
or you stay up typing Year 9 projects, to get your offspring off the hook!
Do you serve your turn long after they are gone
when all wiser folk have left
and you are running completely on caffeine and by your toenails clinging on?
If you would travel to Mars for a friend, just to make them smile
or manage to hold back a grimace when you face the laundry pile?
if you can think of Higher Things while cleaning up something vile?
And never expect a word of thanks when you have gone the extra mile!
if you can fill the unforgiving minute
with sixty seconds' worth of distance run
and on your shoulders carry a world debt of worries
You must be a Woman, dear friend and - A Mum.
Thursday, 21 January 2010
Road Rage
In a week that has seen some fairly monumentual emotional highs and lows, it should not be unexpected to discover that my patience might be a little thin on the ground.
I honestly baffle myself sometimes ,with my own stoicism in moments of extreme stress, by holding it together when all the dung in the neighbourhood seems to have hit my proverbial fan. Yet one, tiny thing can then trip a detonation of a size that is so completely out of proportion, with the crime, that when the storm dies down I 'm awash with remorse.
I dealt with the Rentokil on Monday with serenity, even when the man informed me that the four-legged fiends had probably died inside the walls because there was "no where to escape to". Tuesday's meeting with the Local Education Authority, where I had to beg them to find DS2 a Special Needs School was accomplished without tears or shouting.
I was dignified during the meeting with the Divorce Lawyer; not willing to concede that my financial settlement should in some way compensate me for having two children with special needs.
I even remained composed when SH phoned to exchange details of Lawyers but ended up with a free counselling session because I m too damn nice to put the phone down.
But then, after a long day at work on Thursday, someone stole my parking space.
You know the scenario; you have sat patiently flashing your indicator whilst a geriatric in a Skoda painfully completes his reverse out of the only parking space, outside the local Co Op.
It's five a clock and you've popped out to buy a loaf of bread and a pint of milk and the whole mission can surely be accomplished in five minutes flat with the wind in the right direction?
Then just as the space becomes clear, a Boy Racer in a sup ed up Ford Escort with a double exhaust, pumping fumes out the back, appears from no where screeches into my space?
The red mist descended. Instead of rolling my eyes to the ceiling and patiently waiting for the next space, I slam on the accelerator and grind to a halt inches from his bumper. Leaping out like Miss Piggy with Tourettes; I enquired VERY loudly, as Da Yoof climbs out of the driver's seat hitching up his jeans; if he was suddenly bereft of 20:20 vision? Was he also mentally deficient and of illegitimate parentage? He stared at me, bemused at the spectacle of a middle age woman in Ugg boots, waving her arms hysterically like the Essex relative of a Tasmanian Devil. His inarticulate response was that he didn't know I was waiting for the space. For some reason his total lack of concern or remorse added fuel to the fire and perhaps the fact that he laughed and asked "what are you going to do about it ...lift the car outta the way" was not the best decision he had made thus far in 2010.
So I parked. Behind his car. Blocking him in. For 15 minutes.
Cranking Radio 4 to full volume and turning off the headlights, I settled down to read the Daily Mail. He bought his fags and came out and banged on the window asking what in the name of fornication was I doing. I didn't wind the window down, but replied that I was parked?
"But I wanna go!" came the response to which I replied that I "didn't know that when I parked and what was he going to do about it? Lift my car out of the way?"
So we sat in my juvenile stand off.,for about 15 minutes with him crashing around the outside of my car like a Rhino on heat.
After a while, when the red mist had subsided ,I switched on the engine and drove off leaving a small open- mouthed crowd in my wake.
I hadn't won and the loss of self control wasn't pretty but I felt SO much better. So to summarise:
Monday's Mum has big rats to chase
Tuesday's Mum tries to find a school place
Wednesday's Mum gives the Lawyer "Green to go"
Thursday's Mum has a gasket 'bout to blow
Friday's Mum thinks her patience is giving
Saturday's Mum seeks the Meaning of living
but a long lie-in bed on the Sabbath Day, means this Mum will bounce back to fight another Day!
I honestly baffle myself sometimes ,with my own stoicism in moments of extreme stress, by holding it together when all the dung in the neighbourhood seems to have hit my proverbial fan. Yet one, tiny thing can then trip a detonation of a size that is so completely out of proportion, with the crime, that when the storm dies down I 'm awash with remorse.
I dealt with the Rentokil on Monday with serenity, even when the man informed me that the four-legged fiends had probably died inside the walls because there was "no where to escape to". Tuesday's meeting with the Local Education Authority, where I had to beg them to find DS2 a Special Needs School was accomplished without tears or shouting.
I was dignified during the meeting with the Divorce Lawyer; not willing to concede that my financial settlement should in some way compensate me for having two children with special needs.
I even remained composed when SH phoned to exchange details of Lawyers but ended up with a free counselling session because I m too damn nice to put the phone down.
But then, after a long day at work on Thursday, someone stole my parking space.
You know the scenario; you have sat patiently flashing your indicator whilst a geriatric in a Skoda painfully completes his reverse out of the only parking space, outside the local Co Op.
It's five a clock and you've popped out to buy a loaf of bread and a pint of milk and the whole mission can surely be accomplished in five minutes flat with the wind in the right direction?
Then just as the space becomes clear, a Boy Racer in a sup ed up Ford Escort with a double exhaust, pumping fumes out the back, appears from no where screeches into my space?
The red mist descended. Instead of rolling my eyes to the ceiling and patiently waiting for the next space, I slam on the accelerator and grind to a halt inches from his bumper. Leaping out like Miss Piggy with Tourettes; I enquired VERY loudly, as Da Yoof climbs out of the driver's seat hitching up his jeans; if he was suddenly bereft of 20:20 vision? Was he also mentally deficient and of illegitimate parentage? He stared at me, bemused at the spectacle of a middle age woman in Ugg boots, waving her arms hysterically like the Essex relative of a Tasmanian Devil. His inarticulate response was that he didn't know I was waiting for the space. For some reason his total lack of concern or remorse added fuel to the fire and perhaps the fact that he laughed and asked "what are you going to do about it ...lift the car outta the way" was not the best decision he had made thus far in 2010.
So I parked. Behind his car. Blocking him in. For 15 minutes.
Cranking Radio 4 to full volume and turning off the headlights, I settled down to read the Daily Mail. He bought his fags and came out and banged on the window asking what in the name of fornication was I doing. I didn't wind the window down, but replied that I was parked?
"But I wanna go!" came the response to which I replied that I "didn't know that when I parked and what was he going to do about it? Lift my car out of the way?"
So we sat in my juvenile stand off.,for about 15 minutes with him crashing around the outside of my car like a Rhino on heat.
After a while, when the red mist had subsided ,I switched on the engine and drove off leaving a small open- mouthed crowd in my wake.
I hadn't won and the loss of self control wasn't pretty but I felt SO much better. So to summarise:
Monday's Mum has big rats to chase
Tuesday's Mum tries to find a school place
Wednesday's Mum gives the Lawyer "Green to go"
Thursday's Mum has a gasket 'bout to blow
Friday's Mum thinks her patience is giving
Saturday's Mum seeks the Meaning of living
but a long lie-in bed on the Sabbath Day, means this Mum will bounce back to fight another Day!
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