”Stop yelling at your brother”, I yell to my daughter – and as I do so I wince at what I’ve just done.
Talk about being a big, fat hypocrite. Man it’s hard being a role model, especially when you’re aren’t exactly Mrs Squeaky Clean.
I suppose I’ve got a few years to smarten up my game or do I just be myself and hope they don’t pick up on my bad habits, of which there are too many too mention.
For example I religiously preach the health values of milk and water to my children while I secretly skull back a nice, cold glass of caffeine-packed fizzy (okay – sometimes it’s wine).
I could put it in a coffee mug so they can’t see what it is, but that would be sneaky, and I already have a ‘sneaky-in-training’ to deal with.
So when they ask for some ‘koko chrolla’ (fizzy) I tell them no way jose, and that it’s just for grown ups and that there’s something in there that’s not good for kids. Talk about being a hypocrite.
And I know some of you reading this will feel holier than now because you don’t touch the stuff (fizzy or booze), but good for you and here’s a cloth to keep polishing your halo.
I admit it, I don’t always drink, eat or say the right things but I’m trying.
No.1 often tells me off when I accidentally say ‘stupid’ – she’s like ”um mum, we don’t say that word in this house” – in a very matter-of-factly and grown up tone.
She is also vigilant in reminding me that we don’t throw things. And I should clarify I throw clothes and toys, not chairs and plates.
Kids are such little sponges and it’s so scary to think they are watching my every move, listening to every syllable and copying my often-terrible behaviour.
In saying that, my children usually (usually) have top-notch manners, I’m like a drill sergeant in this respect. My theory is that if your children are little shits, they can make up for it by being polite little shits.
For example – ”Who did that fartypop?” I ask. (yes it’s a cutesy take on the word fart – which I hate)
”Well you’d better say excuse me”.
Since they could speak I’ve always said ‘please’ and ‘thank-you’ to them so they know they have to reciprocate and if there isn’t a please in a request, it simply doesn’t happen.
”MUUUMMMMM, can you wipe my bum” yells out No.1.
”Umm sorry, but what did you ask me?” I reply, often a few times.
”Oh yeah, sorry, MUUUUUMMM can you PLEASE wipe my mum,” says No.1, momentarily forgetting my strict rule regarding the magic word.
And yep I’m that strict, every request has to have a please included or it doesn’t happen, and that goes for my husband to.
Since I’m a slave anyway, I don’t think it hurts for my masters to be polite when they’re ordering me about and asking for water, pick up their pens, turn up the TV or to go away.
I think I should star a chart to reward good behaviour.
For me that is, not the kids.