I really should begin with how much I love my children, that I hold nothing dearer in my heart.
BUT they can be right arseholes sometimes. It turns out that I have two girls with *cough cough* leadership skills, which means that I have the special job of playing referee when it is the hair pulling championships.
I knew that it would be a challenge having two girls. I can’t imagine if we were to actually have any more children and they happened to be girls what fresh hell that would be like, but sweet fudge cake it is testing my patience to its limits with these two.
Our day started out something like this…..
Flo entered our bedroom, where she joined a very beautiful, bright-eyed Edie who has been attached to moi, the milk machine also known as mummy/mama/muuuum from the moment the moon came out. Flo decided that in fact, I did not require my left ear drum and screams COCKADOODLE DOOOOOOO full pelt, directly down my ear canal. She has lungs like Mariah Carey that kid, I seriously need to enrol her in theatre school. Edie, with the ferocity of a werewolf who has just been told the moon was in fact going down, clawed at Florence’s face with speed unrecognisable to the naked eye.
Flo screaming. Edie screaming. Me in a stupendous mum-sleep-coma state trying to figure what’s going on (and quite literally shouting WHAT’S GOING ON?) screaming.
I turn to Mike who, quite conveniently, was asleep with his back towards the animalistic chaos going on and give him the swift poke in the ribs that would wake a sleeping hippo if employed correctly. But nothing. Not even a slight move. So the wife wobble was employed. You all know the one, the hand on the shoulder and push in a firm and precise manner to encourage wake up.
And so, the notorious Daddy Freckle was awake.
Downstairs, with coffee in hand and my hair looking like it belongs to a scarecrow, the kids eating cheerio’s and raspberries had a moment of completeness. Both of them eating happily, watching the virtual babysitter (TV) and not giving each other looks of hatred. Until, apparently Justin and his ridiculous robot friend wasn’t enough to keep the peace and Edie launched at Florence’s lush long curly hair with the passion of a school girls fight.
And so it went on.
This isn’t the first series of fights, shouts or conflicts. It wont be the last. But it’s not that bad. They are only children. I just wish that more of the face stroking, sweet cuddles and the nice play would be present. It feels like its been a long few months of scalping and gritted teeth, which I am so fed up of.
The 3 year age gap is lovely in so many ways, but in others they are so different and Flo is so much stronger that sometimes I fear she might actually squeeze her till she pops!
So here’s to the teenage years, where they can well and truly hate each other, steal each others clothes/make up and argue about who’s used who’s towel.