The Strange Front

I think kids are a test – if you can make it through without being completely insane, then you’re an incredible human being. Because to be honest, there’s something very bi-polar about the whole process. To do it properly you need to be excited and loving one minute, and flying off the handle the next.
Let’s take just things I’ve said to Little Mango 1 at dinner time.
‘That’s awesome! I love the way your setting the table like I asked!’
‘What the hell are you doing?!! Since when do we….
‘Lovely manners, really happy.’
‘Get your feet off the table, it’s disgusting!!!’
‘Good work using your knife and fork, that’s great!’
‘Stop pointing that at your sister!!’ turning to Little Miss Mango, ‘And you stop shouting!!!!’
I always find it funny when I shout, “STOP SHOUTING!” As soon as I’ve said it, I know how ridiculous that would sound from outside. But then a lot of the things we say to kids would sound ridiculous when taken out of context.
‘Will you stop licking that chair?!’
‘Don’t whack your sister with your tail!’
‘What type of sandwich do you want for lunch? Are you going to have a poo sandwich?” (This is said as a joke, not as a serving suggestion).

And while we’re talking about ridiculous – I offer you a couple of scenarios.

The first one happened when coming home from my weekly trip to the markets with Little Miss Mango. I stopped in at a shop on the way. I don’t usually do it and I know, it sounds like an amazing story already, but obviously this mattered a great deal to my daughter. We got out of the car, shopped for a few extra fruit and veggies that I didn’t have, paid and went back to the car. What followed was twenty minutes of humiliating futility. I lifted her up, opened the car door and went to put her in the car seat.
But something stopped me. It was my daughter, arching her back away from the booster, her feet placed firmly upon the back seat pushing any way but into that seat. I thought this was strange – usually the putting-in-the-car process was pretty standard, and I wasn’t aware until that moment of exactly how strong my daughter was. So I stopped and re-evaluated the situation, demanding she stop being silly and get in her car seat. Needless to say that didn’t work, and the fact we have a small car only added to the problem. See, you really don’t have a lot of leverage when you have to fold yourself in half to reach in the car, so already she has the upper hand. Plus, she can fight as much as she likes but there is a point where I will not push past for fear of hurting her .. and I think she knew that.
So ten exhaustive minutes later, I’m going back over everything I’ve read about stupid parents being on the side of a road with a screaming kid and the best advice is: pick them up and put them in their seat. Simple. Okay – let’s do that: “oh, wait hang on, just get in the, no stop hitting me, get in the, will you get in the, just get in the.. oh my god just get in the…. ahhhh!!!
And now I have people that parked next to me when I first started this argument coming back to their cars, having finished their shopping, and giving me looks that reflect the bewilderment in my eyes at the ridiculousness of the situation. The lady that served me in the shop is now looking out at the car because she thinks I’ve finally snapped. So I toughen up – grab the little miss and try again. This time (with someone else’s advice in my head) I smack her lightly on the leg to get her attention, and immediately regret it. For one I resorted to smacking when just being flustered and looking incompetent would have sufficed, and two I think she gained some sort of power off of it and was then able to fight back harder than ever. So I give up, defeated, out of breath and energy and just stand in the carpark for another ten minutes not letting her out of the car. Somehow, and for some reason, the only way to get her into that car seat was to promise to go and see Grandma as soon as we leave.
‘Do you want to see Grandma?!’
She nodded, squeezing a tear out of her eye for effect.
‘Well get in your car seat then!’
And in she went.
WHAT?!!!!
But I didn’t push it – I just got in the car, started driving toward home and forgot all about going to see grandma (because grandma lives over two hours away), but it didn’t matter anyway because so had she. I just had to put it off to an exercise in patience (of which I’d obviously lost) guided by something that I could neither understand nor control.

What I could control, or thought I could, what something that happened a week later with Little Mango 1. It was bed time and right now, I don’t actually remember what caused the fight, but that’s usually the way. The course of the fight becomes much more important than the cause. Until the point where you bring out that line, ‘Well why did you….. in the first place.’ Only you stop when you get to the ‘why did you….’ because you can’t actually remember what it was they did.
Anyway, the cause doesn’t matter – needless to say Little Mango 1 was sent to bed without a story (this was a big deal!). The only problem being that now he and Little Mango 3 share a bedroom, and Little Mango 3 was asleep at the time. So Little Mango 1 started yelling through the closed bedroom door. Next I heard things hitting it, small things at first, then larger things (again, thank god we live in a rental – I’m sorry again to all those property owners). I walked into the room calmly and told him to knock it off and go to bed. He continued to be rude and shouting so I gave him the warning. Go to bed now, and if you wake up Little Mango 3 with your rubbish, there’ll be no TV for a week. With that I closed the door, feeling quite strong and sure – happy for whatever happened next to go either way. There was silence for a little while, and then the banging started again. I ignored it because I had already made the threat and now just had to wait.
Next came the sound that was both good and bad – Little Mango 3 was awake and crying. Straight away I stormed into the room, looking very angry and yet sure of what I was doing. Little Mango 1 knew the score because he had suddenly become very quiet. I said ,’Well you know what happens now don’t you?”, picked up Little Mango 3 soothingly and stormed out again. Easy. Solid parenting. Except it didn’t happen like that.
Because half way through the word “happens”, was when it did. One of the items Little Mango 1 had been throwing at the door was a toy pram (don’t hold it against me property owners) and it was now lying on the floor, directly in my path to the cot. And having my head in the air quite arrogantly, I didn’t see it. So when I said the word “happens”, my foot struck the discarded toy. As I said “now” having lifted my leg up with pram now attached, I stumbled and put my weight on the other other leg. Only on “don’t” I realised the other leg I put my weight on had actually only moved half a step forward so now both legs were caught up in the pram. So finally on “you” I attempted to free both my legs at the same time. Needless to say I ended up very close to the floor, still entangled in the pram, kicking at it furiously to release me from it’s vial clutches, and still trying to keep up the façade of being terribly disappointed in my son, hurrying to rescue my poor crying baby, whilst obviously having the greatest difficulty with the relatively simple process of walking in a straight line. I finally freed myself, got up and grabbed Little Mango 3, gave Mango 1 a stern look as if absolutely nothing had just happened and stormed out, leaving him with my dignity, sitting in his bed not with a look of sadness or guilt like I wanted but bewilderment at what had just occurred before him.

I composed myself just outside his room and and went to the lounge to spend time with my now smiling Little Mango 3, who in his lightness of mood always seems to make you feel better. I realised then that it didn’t really matter if I looked foolish in any of the strange situations we find ourselves in as parents. You will always be thrown these curve balls from children’s moods or even simple physics and you have to try and still come out in control, even if you absolutely know you are not. The point is that if you seem like you are in control, the kids will most likely believe it. It’s all just part of the façade we put on as parents, and adults in general, so we feel like what we are doing has merit and effect in a greater sense.
So I guess the point is that the more solid that façade is, the greater effect it will have. Strange.