Last week I read a fantastic article in Grazia by the writer Kitty Dimbleby. It was entitled ‘My Five Year Old Daughter Doesn’t Think I’m Beautiful… And That’s Fine By Me.’ In it she describes being all ready for a night out on the razzle with her girlfriends and her husband compliments her saying she looks beautiful; to which her daughter replies ‘Don’t be silly, Mummy’s not beautiful!’. The writer details her husbands mortified reaction trying to smooth it over and make her feel better… I imagined my lovely supportive husband Rob; who in the same situation would undoubtedly be crying laughing whilst simultaneously setting up a whatsapp group entitled ‘My wife’s a minger.’
Kitty handled her daughters comment with much more grace and maturity than I’d be able to muster. She valued the fact that her daughter instead described her as funny, caring, clever…all attributes which are surely required to make a top class Mummy. I wish I had that attitude; I’m 99% certain I’d have screamed back; ‘It’s not my fault I’m a munter these days! I used to be quite fit until you stopped depriving me of the basic human right that is SLEEP you little TWAT!!!’
Anyway, it got me thinking about how as parents we have to be very resilient to the daily barrage of insults from our children…be they unwitting toddlers or callous teenagers.
There is no module in the NCT course entitled ‘How you may feel when your 3 year old shouts, “I hate you AND your big fat foof!” at the Sainsbury’s checkout.’ Been there, done that. You’ve just got to pick yourself up, smile and not hold it against the little darlings forever more.
I have traced back through Facebook (and the recesses of my shattered sleep deprived brain) and here without further ado are the top ten best insults and accusations I’ve had from my tiny treasures:
10) Dylan: I’ve written you a song.
Me: Ahhh that’s lovely!
Dylan: it’s called: ‘I wish I had another mother cos mine won’t give me Nutella’
9) Dylan: Mam me and Jonah are playing a game and you’re the fat taxi driver right?
Me: Erm… right.
8) Dylan: do you know Jonah, next week Mam and Dad have been married for 10 years! Shall we use our pocket money and get her some flowers?
Jonah: Nah… I already know what I’m getting her.
Dylan: Ooh what!?
Jonah: A nice long wig to cover that horrible haircut she’s got.
7) Me: Night night Jonah. Love you.
Jonah: I don’t like your face.
6) Jonah: You are still a bit fat aren’t you Mam? I mean not really fat; not like as fat as the coach off ‘Cool Runnings’ who died in real life because he was so fat.
Me: John Candy? No. No I’m not quite as fat as him. Thanks for that.
5) Me: Ah boys I can’t believe it but we missed the last day of drop offs for the shoeboxes to send to Africa. We’ll have to just do them next year.
Dylan: you’re a racist!
Me: don’t be silly.
Dylan: you haven’t done the shoeboxes so you’re DEFINITELY a racist.
4) Jonah: why do you keep putting sand in our food?
Me: are you for real?
Jonah: I saw you. I know you’re doing it.
3) Dylan: isn’t it weird how Nan is your Mam, so she must be way older than you. But you look like the same age! Do you think Nan looks quite young or you look very very old?
2) Jonah: when you going to start going back to the gym Mam?
Me: erm I don’t know I hadn’t thought about it. Why?
Jonah: I just think it’d be a good idea.
And in at number 1) The ultimate insult…a portrait of me by Dylan. I can’t decide who I look like most; Bob Geldof, Justin Lee Collins or ‘Yoko-era-Lennon’