It’s fair to say I lost my shit.
It wasn’t that I screamed the house down and stamped my feet, it was scarier than that. Something just snapped, maybe it was the hot water running out, the rain falling on the washing I’d hung on the line (again) or the perpetual poo stain in the downstairs toilet – I can’t be sure. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and called out the names of the travellers one by one, and when I didn’t hear an immediate sound of movement I ended with a “NOW!” As they sat lined up on the couch, I heard a strangely calm and measured tone in my voice which I combined with a long, extended glare from child to child. I could see it in their eyes as I moved from one child to another with my list of aggrievances. Fear.
After a week of indulgence at Granny’s house; a week of breakfast in front of the telly, a week where the third little traveller explained to me at midday that the reason he was yet to get dressed was because his clothes were taking awhile to return from the laundry.
“Should we phone down to housekeeping, or maybe check with the concierge?” I suggested.
He looked at me blankly.
“Perhaps you’d like to get off your bottom and go and have a look for them?”
“Oh no,” he said looking a little confused by my lapse of intelligence “Granny will bring them.”
The fourth little traveler was delighted with Hotel le Granny, his favourite thing being her “full buffet breakfast” with everything you could ever want. Granny had served each traveller their meal of choice, supplied treats on trips to the supermarket, and not only provided free wifi but there was television and a choice of movies as well. It was no surprise when it came time to leave the little travellers weren’t in a hurry to get out of their onesies.
When we returned to the beach house life appeared to go on unchanged. As I cooked my third lot of bacon and eggs for the morning, taking side orders and pouring hot chocolate, it occurred to me that these were the same children who managed to pour their own cereal in a bowl each morning before school. The same children who could make their own beds. Children who were capable of scrambling their own eggs, baking cakes and peeling vegetables. These children now seemed unable to make it to the cutlery drawer to find a knife and fork.
I lost my shit.
After explaining that this was also my holiday and that university was to begin in a week, and that at some stage I would be expected to write words disguised as work. I explained (with my scary calm voice and slightly unhinged facial expression) that I had spent my entire week preparing food, cooking food, sweeping up food and then beginning the process again. That I’d found clean clothes in the washing basket, run through the rain to the supermarket only to be told I’d bought the wrong crackers, and spent a fortune on unnecessary whined for treats. And that yesterday as the hail fell and one of them looked out the window and said “you’ll need to take an umbrella when you go to get us a donut” that they were lucky to still be alive. I was done. DONE!
“This is a share house, we all live together, and you guys are really awful housemates. I’m going to the supermarket and if something doesn’t change around here soon I’m going to set up a roster. You’ve become lazy, selfish and none of you are pulling your weight.”
As I drove away from the house the guilt washed over me. It wasn’t a share house, it was a family, and I was their mother. It was up to me to handle it better, it shouldn’t have come to this. As I wandered through the vegetable section of Foodland I thought of their little faces, and realised I’d let it get this bad. I stopped at the Post Office and picked up a parcel from G, it was a present for the second little travellers birthday this weekend – another wave of guilt. I made my way to the Butchers and then ran back to the car in the rain feeling like a failure, this was our holiday it was meant to be fun and I’d been mean and miserable. I reached into the shopping bags to grab my phone – no phone.
I scrambled through the bags again, emptied the contents onto the floor of the car. Still no phone. I’d lost my phone. It was then that I thought of crawling into a fetal position and sobbing. I walked back inside the shopping centre.
It wasn’t at the Post Office. It wasn’t at the Butchers. I went into customer service at the supermarket.
“Did I leave my phone here?”
“What colour is the screen?” the assistant asked with an arched eye brow.
“Umm, I’m not sure but the case is blue.”
“Yeah, you kind of have to tell me what colour the screen is.”
I could see it on the bench.
“I’m kind of in my 4th week of school holidays with four children and no husband – I can’t remember the colour of screen, it’s covered in apps and icons. Can I please just have my phone? It has a blue case.”
She looked at me blankly.
“If I put the password in and unlock the phone will you believe me that its mine?”
She turned to her co-worker and they conferred.
Two minutes later and I was running back through the rain to the car with the phone in my pocket.
The first sign that something was up when I returned to the house was Mr 10 at the front gate. “Can you not sit on the couch when you come in, I’ve just cleaned them with the leather cleaner.” Someone had had a go at cleaning the glass door, it was smudged from top to toe but I didn’t care. They’d tried to clean the door! The dishwasher was packed. There was a faint smell of cleaning product throughout the house, and the washing machine was running.
“Guys, this is amazing, thank you!”
Everyone immediately jumped in to take ownership on every job they’d done. I had a sous chef at dinner, vegetables were peeled, garbage taken out and washing folded – and when I made my way to the downstairs toilet at the end of the night ready to face the inevitable poo stain I was greeted by white frothy bubbles in the bowl. For a moment I was confused, and then I realised they were bubbles of cleaning product (I hate to think of how much they tipped down the loo) BUT THERE WERE BUBBLES!
I’m under no illusion that this is going to last. I know that we’ll return to the asking, which develops into nagging and eventual yelling slash pleading. I will once again threaten, roster, demand and screech – but we live in hope. Today there is no poo stain, just white frothy bubbles of potential.
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i think you’ve done well to last 4 weeks – I seem to lose my shit every night!….now to stop reading the internet and cuddle them into bed with stories 🙂
Bed time, still, 14 years and I’m yet to master bedtime.
This is too funny. You’re post hit home, I can’t tell you how much. Yesterday, I lost it for the first time in a long time… totally lost it! I have come to the conclusion that when we move back to our base for the summer, we all expect to be on holidays and are looking forward to enjoying being “back home”. Turns out, the work is the same, you are still running your household but the kids are around all day, so you are chauffeuring them around, running errands with them and for them. There is no more “me” time, not even for a cappuccino mid-morning. Declare a time-out and have a coffee or even better some bubbly, no matter what time of the day! Cheers!
School holidays are when you just resume normal activity possibly just in a different destination. There is no ‘holiday’ in school holidays.
We lead such parallel lives my lovely. Calm angry mummy is much scarier than frantic yelling mummy. Xx
I was so calm I scared myself. Okay, next week we need to try and organise a catch up. Will PM you and Ms Pearce. xx
I only just saw this! Call me! How long do you have left in town? xx
Brilliant 😉 – from a granny!
Oh, bless their cotton socks. Only two weeks of hols here and I keep reminding my two that they know where the glasses are when they demand a drink, and Miss 7 now knows how to turn on the dishwasher. I take my hat off to you at 4 weeks without G – he must be coming soon.
It’s important that they use every single glass in the house in one day, or that’s the way it appears to be at our house!
Wow, you must have really lost it to get that reaction. Never mind the guilt – can you post a video so I can copy?
Parenting 101 – how to lose your shit 🙂
Exactly!
oh My, if it makes you feel better, whenever P is out for more than a week I also have my “overtired headflatmate” blasts and my flatmates who are simply nearly 2 and nearly 4 😀 !!! kirsty, we might move to Houston, please link me if you ever wrote a post about how it was for you to live there and suggestions of where to live, how to integrate, etc. im scared as im european, i m used to go everywhere by public transports, im used to buy non organic food because all food around me (i was living in italy, france and now poland) is not gmo, im used to a coffee that goes in 3 sips and to go for waks on sidewalks under the sky not in commercial malls…
btw, everytime granpas come to us, or we go to them, it takes later the same amount of time spent with them to reset my kids to be not asking for a new toy everyday, chocolate, go back to brush their teeth as they are used to and understand that NO means NO, not “if u really break my balls crying and shouting for the next 10 minutes i will change my mind”. Im super happy that they love to be with granpas but its really no picnic for me once they are gone…
Having lived in Houston for almost 10 years, I can say I loved it there. You say you lived in France. There is a big French Association called Houstonn Accueil. If you contact them, tell them I gave you their name, they’ll probably know who I am! The Awty community is great too, but that’s if you choose the International system for your children’s schooling. I can strongly recommend a Montessori school In West Houston. Innovative Montessori. Same thing: Ask for Mrs Kathryn and tell her I sent you, she’ll know me 🙂 If you sing, there is a wonderful international Choir UNAIC. Again, they will know me 😉
If by any chance you’re going with Schlumberger, I can point you to the former president of the SSA who will know how to make you feel welcome (she took time out because of an impending move that didn’t happen and a baby sho did).
Now, about the Grandparents… I agree, it always takes some time to readjust to expectations after they’ve spent time with the Grandkids. But, but… I noticed early on that the kids had incredible growth spurts when at their Grans. And not only physically. Because they don’t live the same way, because there are things done differently, things you believe more easily when Grandpa says them than when it’s Mom… And in the end, the effort to get them back into my system was worth the time spent with the Grandparents. In my case, the progress in their mother tongue was always impressive too. So I decided to just let t slide and worry about the ‘coming back to Earth’ when it happened rather than try to anticipate it when with the Grandparents and risk spoiling their quality time. Because really, that would have been the other option: Try to keep the same habits when there as at home. But with cousins and so on, who have different expectations and values sometimes, it’s just not worth the fight. 🙂
Thank you Corinne! I will send you an email next week about Houston.
Regarding the granparents effect, i share your attitude: off course they dont see them much and its time for love when they are together, but still sometimes when im facing the reset week i cant avoid to finish the evening with a gin tonic and complaining with myself 😀
I’ll wait for it 🙂
We loved Houston. Let me go back and have a look for you. Did I send you the details of my girlfriend who has the Wednesday morning group?
nope, but i would love to have it 🙂
Oh how I can relate! Thank you for writing this. And no, you didn’t lose your shit. The loo bowl did, and it was about time too 😉
Don’t you just love the double meaning, gave myself a good giggle over that yesterday – so nice to see someone noticed 🙂
Well, having a few little travelers myself, you can always count on m e to notice these things 🙂
I actually think you’re 100% correct about our children being “housemates”. And if parents don’t teach them to help how they can, then when do we expect them to learn it? If you’ve ever spent time in an undergrad dorm or apartment full of 19-year-olds, it shows who was allowed to just “enjoy their childhood” and who had to do a few chores around the house.
I love my children ferociously, and think they are amazing people; I also resent being treated like a live-in-maid. So, I think of them like housemates who don’t chip in rent–you’d still have expectations of a rent-free roommate, right? Even one you love more than all the stars in the sky can pick up their own underwear and manage to get dishes into the dishwasher, and occasionally shake some cleanser into a receptacle.
*This all coming from a mother who lost her shit A LOT before figuring out how to manage this issue with her own kids (8 & 9)–many afternoons of shame-faced kids trying to make good, and me trying to apologize without undermining myself.
Brilliant comment Barbara. xx
Oh Kristy, you do so make me laugh. LYW.
Love the reality in this blog. We all parent the best we can with the tools and information we have at the time. The point is that when your children have certain issues drawn to their attention they react rather than huddle and complain. You’re doing a good job. And yes, things will go back to the way they were. Kids are so human like that 🙂
“Kids are human like that” – I need to put that somewhere where I can refer to it on a daily basis.
Inspirational! It’s so nice to know you’re not alone in the parenting journey. My husband and I recently enjoyed the nachos alone that we were meant to eat as a family, rebellion against our grumpy children!
Love it! I hope you made lots of “these nachos are FABULOUS!” remarks while you ate them 🙂
We’ve just done 3 weeks in Cyprus with our 4 little travellers and I could have written this post about half way through. Good to know we’re not alone.
granma always has a lot to answer for! 😉
It always takes a loss of shit to get an amazing reaction! But it’s rarity is its effectiveness 🙂
the loss of shit every now and then is a helpful technique for children to learn their Mother’s limits don’t you think??