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Friday 13 July 2012

FABULOUS TWO


I’m not sure why there are not more 2 year olds running companies. Hear me out on this, as I think I'm onto something. They are demonstrative – okay, the vocabulary may be a bit limited, but let me tell you they get their point across; they instill fear (oh do they instill fear) in whomever crosses their path; they know what they want and more importantly what they don't want; and their world consists of myopic goals which are always achieved (like it or not). That’s the making of a good despot that gets sh*t DONE, as far as I’m concerned. Okay fine, they still need their nappy changed and dribble on themselves, but I’m sure they could hire a team of people to clean up after them. Wait, that’s my job…never mind.

Yes, the King is fast approaching two and suddenly over night (and I mean overnight), our world has shifted into a whole new dominion of ‘this is what I want and if I don’t get it, there will be hell to pay.’ Clearly his rule on the kingdom was not expansive enough before this fabulous stage. At the moment, the King turning two means a tantrum every five feet and heavy negotiation on our parental part, which if not done right, leads to yet another tantrum (it’s a super fun cycle). It’s a fine balancing act to avoid the landmines I can assure you, and at the moment, we find ourselves trying to avoid them at all costs - "oh just give him the knife if he wants to play with it, if it means he'll be agreeable for four minutes!!" (I kid, I kid; we don't give in that easily)

....for those of you thinking I’m a completely jaded cow, peppered in with these tantrums are of course adorable moments and lots of new words and skills. But that’s par for the course and why we don’t sell our children.

In the case of the King these super fun tantrums start very early…far too early. At the moment he is waking up in the morning with a forty-five minute screamathon. It’s hard to describe really outside of the fact that it crawls into your nervous system and grabs a hold with both hands and doesn’t let go until you’re contemplating pouring whisky into your morning coffee. We’re not sure what inspires this, but it’s something to do with the fact that he’s neither completely asleep nor awake and this limbo situation pisses him off. So for the moment, instead of an alarm clock, the entire building gets to sit back and listen to the dulcet tones of the King trying to kick his cot in from the inside out. He’s definitely my father’s grandson, that kid has one set of hefty lungs.

Once we peel him off the ceiling and convince him that maybe breakfast is a wiser choice to start off the day, it is then like a game of ‘find the landmine’ depending on what task you set out to do. ‘Would you like toast?’ Response: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Okay then. ‘Will you please sit in your chair?’ R: Noooooooooooo, aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!....Do you want to wear the blue shoes or the red shoes (apparently it's all about choices; yeah, whatever)? R: ‘Sttttttoooooooooooooppppppp, nooooooooo shoooooeeeeeeees!’ All righty then. 'Anyone want a triple vodka and a chocolate bath?' He even gives me a no to that question, just to be contrary.

The problem is, until you realize that every 2 year old is bi-polar, you’re not going to get very far. The King can go from laughing and kissing me in one step, to hurling his truck at me in a rage-fueled rebellion - apparently this is frustration with his inability to fully communicate. Either that, or our sh*tty summer weather is getting to him too. Of course no one believes me except my husband - as the King is usually such a happy child, because two year olds are very clever. They wait until it’s just you and THEM and they unleash the really good stuff. Then again, the King is also realizing that to unleash his power in public places is highly amusing (for him, not me).. I of course have taken to wearing my iPod – judge me, I can take it – around the house and when we’re outside as I find Coldplay a lot more soothing to listen to than the King screaming his lungs out because I refuse to give him more raisins.

So at the moment, within our, ahem, his Kingdom, a battle of wills is playing out. He digs his feet in in his corner and wields his best autonomous two year old stare that says, challenge me, I dare you; and I try my best to pick my battles and not turn into a total alcoholic. Parenthood: it’s such a fluffy bunny.

Happy Friday all. 


Sunday 8 July 2012

WOMEN ROCK


Well I discussed all the reasons I would like to come back in my next life as a man. Now, as promised, it is time to discuss all the reasons why I love being a woman. Every woman out there I’m sure is thinking, ‘please, we get it, you certainly don’t need to explain it.’ But for those that like to see things in writing, let’s run through it, shall we?

For starters, we’re the most intelligent of the sexes [I'm sure a lot of men spit up their coffee after reading that one]. Let’s be honest, in terms of ticking all the boxes, we as a sex simply have it. We’re intuitive (which goes a long long way); we’re emotionally intelligent, we’re clever in the traditional (book smart) and non-traditional sense (improvisation is our strong suit, have you ever seen a woman travel with more than one child? There is a lot of improv going on, I assure you), and we multi-task. Need I say more? I shall not because currently I’m reading the biography of Nietzsche, while solving an algorithm, making the King’s lunch and intuiting that a friend of mine needs a phone call cause she’s had a rough week. You see, tick, tick, tick.

Secondly, we smell nice, have less body hair (which is great because I could never handle shaving my face every day)have soft skin (that smells of roses and rainbows, cause we’re perfect), innately have a better dress sense - and more choice in clothes, thank god - and possess the ability to accessorize. According to Olympia Dukakis in Steel Magnolias, it’s what separates us from animals.

Thirdly, we have a range of emotions and are not only able to identify an emotion (for some of the male species out there this is incredibly challenging) but we are not ashamed of them. This is a huge benefit in avoiding colon cancer or any type of illness, as I think expression and communication keeps the body and mind healthy. But then again, I would. In fact, I’m raising the King not only to embrace crying when the situation deems it (this does not include air travel), but the King is already fully in acceptance of joy, fear, sadness and flat out unadulterated belligerence. This one, I’m trying to temper as it’s exhausting for those of us living in his kingdom.

And lastly, we create life. Seriously, I shouldn’t have to go any further, but I’ve never been one for few words (the blog would be seriously dull if I was). We not only create life, we grow it, nurture it, feed it, and birth it. And then to go one further, once we birth it, we do all of it again (grow, nurture, and feed it; not to mention a whole host of other things), whilst making sure this little creature abides by societal rules, turns into a caring person, picks up its underwear off the floor and doesn’t turn into a bank robber. Not an easy task, I assure you. 

So you see, it may on the surface be a man's world, but I promise you, behind that man is a woman running the show, doing her nails, reading a book, whilst raising a child and running a company. We're good like that. 


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