It’s Mother’s Day Every Day

Dear Parents,

When did you turn around and realise that, somewhere, somehow, you’d turned into your own parents?

Remember that thing that your Mum used to do when you were a kid that drove you absolutely batty? When did you notice yourself doing the same thing?

Remember the way your Dad told really, really, really, really, really-to-the-power-of-a-million bad jokes? When was the last good joke you told?

Remember how your parents were always so out of touch, and insisted on you doing things that no one else ever had to do? When did you start making your own kids do the same things?

ooOOoo

When I was a child/teenager, my Mum would wake my siblings and I up every morning by coming into our rooms, turning on the light, and singing a “happy” little song that she’d cobbled together out of leftover words and almost-rhymes. I detested it with the power of a thousand suns. It went like this:

Wakey wakey,
Rise and shine,
Time to get up,
It’s morning time.

I would never be so annoying as a parent. Never. Instead, I greet my sons in the morning by opening the curtains and singing a pretty little song I wrote a while ago:

Good morning! Good morning!
It’s nice to say good morning!
With a hee-hee-hee, and a hey-hey-hey,
It’s time to start the day!

 It’s completely different.

ooOOoo

How many elephants can you fit in a mini?
Four. Two in the front, two in the back.

How many hippos can you fit in a mini?
None. It’s already full of elephants.

How can you tell there’s been an elephant in your fridge?
Footprints in the butter.

How can you tell there’s been two elephants in your fridge?
Two sets of footprints in the butter.

How can you tell there’s been three elephants in your fridge?
Three sets of footprints in the butter.

How can you tell there’s been four elephants in your fridge?
Their mini’s parked out front.

 ooOOoo

When I was a kid, we ate dinner at the dining table every night. Without exception. All my friends ate in front of the TV, or at least with the TV on in the background. But not us. We sat at the table, TV off, music off, with only each other for company. We talked, told jokes (see above), used real cutlery, real crockery, serviettes, and had a fresh pot of tea on the table every night (complete with tea strainer — tea-bags are for sissies).

That was fine. But the thing that really got up my nose was that we weren’t allowed to leave the table until we’d asked permission. My friends would finish dinner, get up, and go. But I had to sit at the table and politely say, “May I be excused?” or face the consequences. (I don’t actually know what the consequences were. None of us ever broke the rules.) I hated it. And yet…

I’ve taught 4-year-old Big Brother that it’s polite to ask to leave the table when he’s finished eating. So, every night, he gives me a big smile and asks, “Is it okay if I leave the table?” And then, because he’s a very particular child, he adds, “Daddy doesn’t have to ask, because he’s a grown up. I have to ask because I’m a youngster.”

(Note: ‘Youngster’ is his current favourite word. It’s apparently the best word that he’s ever heard in his whole life.)

Because I’m even more annoying than my parents big on politeness, I’ve also taught Big Brother that he should say thank you to the person who cooked his meal. (That is: Me) The first night, I coached him to say, “Thank you for cooking me a lovely meal.” But while he slept, this polite little phrase morphed into a somewhat different one. I haven’t corrected him. His version is way better.

Every night, he gets up from the table, gives me a hug and says, “Thank you for inviting me to this feast. Happy Mother’s Day!”

ooOOoo

And he’s also cute. (With a new lightning-bolt shaped scar next to his eye, thanks to a recent adventure.)

 

Advertisements

11 Comments

Filed under Life With Kids

11 responses to “It’s Mother’s Day Every Day

  1. Now there’s a kid who’s going to own the world. you can just see it in his eyes. Great picture, Jo.

  2. 5kidswdisabilities

    That is so cute…thanks for sharing…it gave me chuckle.

  3. This was hilarious. Just the other day I was thinking about the times my mother would prance into my room, open the blinds, and say “Rise and shine!” There was no song, but it was still incredibly annoying. And it made me detest mornings. While mulling over this unpleasant memory, I decided I will never say “Rise and shine” to my son and I will also never open his blinds for him unless he wants me to. It is his room, after all, and I remember how precious my own room used to be to me. But he’s only 5 months old right now, so I’ll just wait and see; all these promises I’m making now might be harder to keep than they seem.

    • Back when Big Brother was a baby, I had the same thoughts. Then, one day, I realised the words coming out of my mouth were my mother’s, obviously imprinted on my subconcious mind. There are definitely some things that my parents did that I won’t do, but a lot of the little things that annoyed me as a child actually make sense now that I’m an adult with my own child. Or at least, it’s less annoying to be on the other side. 🙂

      I look forward to hear how you go with your own “I’ll never do that” promises.

  4. This is so cute! Makes you realize even if you do become like your parents, it’s worth it when your kid says something like this every day. How adorable.

  5. Love this post, Jo! I have been thinking about how much I sound like my mom these days, especially when it comes to mealtimes. Ahem.

    Oh, and you might already know this about scars, but my kiddo took all the skin off her nose in June, and the doctor told us to keep the whole area covered in sunscreen, because the sun affects scars differently, and that’s what shows up later. So I’ve been slathering my daughter and making her wear hats. Her favorite part is getting to use the tube sunscreen herself because it looks like lipstick. (And her nose is definitely better between that and some kids’ Mederma scar cream that smells like grape.)

    • Thanks for the advice about scars, I didn’t actually know that. I always cover him in sunscreen anyway (you’d be mad not to have sunscreen & a hat in th Aussie sun!) but I’ll be super-careful to cover his scars now. 🙂

      Glad you enjoyed the post!

      • Good point about where you are versus where I am! In Portland we have many (many) gray rainy days, and the doc reminded me to do sunscreen even when the sun isn’t out. Her nose has been a bit pink this week due to our first long stretch of good weather, but I’ve slathered it with sunscreen and forced a hat much of the time, so that’s that. Hopefully it’ll continue to fade–and your son’s too!

Speak to me.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s