Friday, June 8, 2012

The proof that I am a neglectful mummy blogger.




Image from HERE.

I endured possibly the most dramatic, exasperating and drawn out tantrums I had ever encountered last Friday, from Ms three.
(And in case you were wondering where she gets these tendencies to dramatize, you will clearly see from my last sentence, that its her father.)

The conditions were perfect for a mammoth tantrum... She was showing signs of her brothers cold, a late night was had, followed by an early morning, and a day of trampolining, right through the day sleep window of opportunity.
It was 5:10pm.

I am talking inconsolable wailing, followed by frustrated lounge cushion biting, legs and arms flailing, stomping, pummeling kind of tantrum.

The kind of tantrum that would furrow the brow of judgmental people and disappoint the elderly for miles around.

The wailing turned to high pitched moaning that could have quite possibly have been detected by EVP equipment of The Most Haunted team in Britain. The moaning turned to dramatic exclamations of..
"you. don't. love. me" "I. Want. My. Dad.dy" and my all time favorite "buh.uh.uht. Mu.um."

Each syllable was accompanied by strange head and knee jerking motion... You know for emphasis, like tantrum exclamation marks.

I can quite honestly say that if it were so irritating I may have been impressed...
I mean...whinging, moaning and spitting out monosyllabic words between snot and saliva bubbles, and combining it with the jerking dance of emphasis, requires a certain level of skill.
Just when I thought she had peaked... It came. The tantrum gagging and dry retching.

If that were not brilliant enough, the performance continued for a whole seventy three minutes. With no interval
That's dedication right there.

I did what all mothers do in this situation, I offered a voice of reason, a soothing cuddle... When that was rudely thrown back in my face along with a little bit of snot,.... I threatened exile in the form of bedroom detention.
When my negotiations failed, I persevered through seven different attempts to re detain her..Each return trip up the hall I perilously dodged flailing limbs that threatened to collide with my sensitive areas....(some did)....and all attempts were futile.
A little part of me left, ...probably to the pub.....and I thought to myself, fine..... do whatever you want, don't stay in your room, look how much I couldn't. give. a shaz.

I gritted my teeth and I carried on as though nothing was happening... I would not give in.
I ran baths and defrosted dinner, ... To add to feelings of malaise, I cooked that dinner in an appliance gifted to me.
I felt dirty.
All the time, Ms three and her orchestra of misery followed behind me, the tantrum woefully clung at the door frames of the rooms I was in, it collapsed in a heap outside the toilet door I was using, it wafted around the laundry in between loads and was under my every footstep in the kitchen.

Eventually I took advantage of the tantrum being temporarily muffled by the lounge cushion she was now biting and I rang my husband.

He was running late.. Like, don't make any dinner for me late.

It was all I could do, not. To Lose. My Shit.

I walked to the other end of the house and I closed my bedroom door, I took out my iPad and I wrote this fucking blog post, knowing that someone...somewhere was doing this right beside me,.. and I felt immediately better... Then I came over all warm with a sense of accomplishment at being able to articulate a post about tantrums in such a witty manner. I felt Calmer at the thought someone out there may enjoy my witty banter and recall it, should they find themselves in a similar state of bother.
And just as I had finished..... Silence.


I returned to the lounge room, to find a very exhausted child, sleeping peacefully, half on, half off the lounge and My relief was so great that I didn't wake her... Even though I knew I would hate myself for it come bedtime.

So I guess it's proven........ I am just just another mummy blogger who is online while her children lay neglected in another room... Crying for their mummy while mummy, gets her social media fix...and dinner.. Thoughtlessly writing blog posts about my children... Exploiting them for blog hits and free appliances and face creams.

Case closed.




This post was brought to you in my excitement over my awesome Soup maker that I was given , when I further neglected my children to spend three hours out of the house in the company of other bloggers, great food and adult conversation.

I wasn't even paid for this post....they don't even know I am writing it.
I'm probably never ever getting anything from Tefal again, because I may have punctuated my post with a few too many eff's.

And now I feel like I can't write a post telling you ALL how much I recommended it because some idiot from a newspaper with preconceived ideas will write an article that makes me feel like a wh... (Sorry Tefal) a hussy.


Buh.hut, *head/knee jerk* I REALLY LIKED The Appliance, I think it's an awesome time saver, it cooks pumpkin soup among many other things in 25 MINUTES. It purees it! And then it CLEANS ITSELF!! ...
I spent 3hours cooking and I filled my freezer....Those meals will come in handy the next time I need to feed my meal tickets. Children a nutritious meal ..and lets be honest....I'm too busy neglecting them, or possibly hungover to cook.

Stuff it, if it sounds like your thing you can buy it HERE...in this conveniently placed, yet brazenly blog cheapening link.

Love Emma.

11 comments:

Kim-Marie said...

Now that's what the art of mummy blogging is all about! Love your work!

Becci said...

I do not miss those days. Particularly that moment when the Dad suddenly has a late meeting and does not want to hear your "problems". Then to read that article today and those comments on how we're cashing in our kids - christ almighty! You enjoy your soup, girl, just like I'm enjoying my slow cooker!

Sharon@FunkenWagnel said...

Tantrumming kid: 1
Mummyblog detractors: 0
Emmasbrain: 2

Bloody brilliant!

lisasdream said...

Oh Yeah! I am not alone :)

Cameron Mann said...

Yes. Good work. Hurts my brain how conflicted I am.
First rate writing, and that's the most. The normalising power of telling that experience that each of us has had and none of us could have. The fury against the pointless ignorant classifications and critiques.
All marvelous, but I still regret having read the crap about the product. This post would not be the success it is without that, and I think preserving a worthwhile diversity in voices relies on welcoming in everything from pure ad to pure art. At the same time I just feel like my day is a little less good because I unintentionally know a little more about the Tefal Soupathonulator.
But that's totally my problem as a reader and I feel amply qualified to deal with it like I do the 40 billion other commercial incursions into my life every day.
Bravo!

whatsinemmasbrain said...

Thank you, I love love love that you kept reading anyway. I hope you can forgive the product information in exchange for my story.
You have made my day and proven a point to myself with this comment.
Thank you

Debyl said...

Love how you write it real.Product placement,eff's and all.It is Your Space...you go for it girl.Luv ya xx

Good Golly Miss Holly! said...

Best. Sponsored. Post. Everrrr.

But I refuse to believe that gorgeous wee girl could be anything less than a sweet little Chipmunk on helium ;)

x

River said...

That's a heck of a tantrum!
Is there any way you could have headed it off at the beginning?
Perhaps dumping her in a warm soothing bubble bath or something?

That Granny said...

Great post Emma, as far as the tantrum is concerned I have only one word 'karma' wait till she's 15 ha hehe.... luv... Your Mum xxxx

:perennial: said...

Best thing we ever did was put a lock on the outside of my son's room. He is seven now and it is never used but there was a period of 5 months when he was 4 when he was locked in there at least three times a week. I would sit on the couch and stare into middle distance while dinner burnt itself dry in a saucepan on the stove top.

Trust me - get the lock. You have the soupmaker. You will be unstoppable.
Carol