I have many grievances with those so called “Parenting Books”, in my naivety of first time parenthood I purchased many, read even more and had the misguided notion that I had this parenting malarkey down to a T!
I’m still laughing at my own stupidity.
Despite the books being written by different authors and published by different companies they all seem to lacking the same information on a bunch of topics, some are serious omissions, which I’ll bitch about another time.
But today, today my issue is with nakedness, willies and poo.
I don’t know why I even bother to buy my kids clothes, they don’t like them, at all. They now insist their clothes are actually invisible, which is just great when your trying to get out the house and your kids scream blue murder at the sight of clothes, let alone the hysteria of having any item of clothing put on their body.
Not one book, friend or so called “parenting expert” mentioned the whole nakedness thing. Maybe if someone had thought to mention it, I could have saved a few quid and come up with a plan as to how to get clothes on the pesky kids before they developed techniques which rival ninjas and their avoidance skills.
The boys start school in September, I’m taking bets as to how long it will be before I get a phone call asking me to attend a meeting to “discuss the nakedness issues”, got a feeling that “But they are SO CUTE, don’t you want to just bite their little butt cheeks?” and “Naked? Really? Well that’s never happened before!” won’t do me any favours.
Nakedness leads to willies, and on my gosh am I fed up of seeing willies.
My days seem to consist of the following conversations
“Mummy where are you hiding your willy?”
“I don’t have a willy, only boys have willies”
“I like my willy (pulls down pants) it’s bent, see (points to willy). I like bent willies”
“Yes dear, now pull your pants back up please”
“BUT I WANT TO BE NAKED!” He then does some weird willy walk where it slaps each thigh.
I entered the living room to find my child sat on the sofa, willy in hand.
“Leave your willy alone and put your pants on please”
“But I like holding my willy, I can make it go bigger (yanks on willy hard enough my eyes water) SEE, BIG WILLY”
“Yes dear, big willy, but I’m not sure it should look that red”
“I like it” (holds willy in death grip)
I sigh and walk away to bang my head against a wall.
But my “favourite”
“Mummy my willy has a booboo, kiss it”
“No! I’m not kissing your booboo, it’s fine, put it away”
“But my booboo needs a kiss, SEE” Shoves willy towards me
“KISS MY WILLY BOOBOO”
“No, put your pants back on please”
“KISS IT, KISS MY WILLY! KISS MY WILLY BOOBOO! KISS IT, KISS IT, KISS IT”
“NO! YOU DON’T ASK PEOPLE TO KISS YOUR WILLY”
“KISS MY BOOBOO”
“I’M NOT KISSING YOUR DAMN WILLY”
At which point I realised the French doors are open and the neighbours have heard every single word, just as well I have no shame left!
I never knew how obsessed boys are with their own willies!
God help us all when they are teenagers!
And lastly, but by no means least in my grumble with parenting books is the lack of information on just how much their poo will become a normal part of your everyday.
I expected poo to be an issue when the boys were babies, babies poo a lot and as parents you get the “awesome” pleasure of cleaning up that poo.
But I had
hoped, prayed thought by the time the boys are able to go to the loo by themselves poo wouldn’t be such an issue.
Despite knowing when, where and how to go to the loo I still seem to be the resident arse wiper.
The other day one of my darlings came to me asking for his bum to be wiped, fine, except his bum was clean, he had SLID down the stairs on his bum!
My stairs had poo streaks! Who does that?
Then the whole “Ohhh mummy is in the bath, lets go do a poo” and lucky me, they talk me through the entire thing.
“Mummy I need to do a poo” Jumps on to loo seat with a gleam in his eye.
“That’s nice dear”
“But it’s not coming out!” Makes some weird face
“Sweetie, if it’s not coming out, stop trying to force it”
“Ohhh it’s coming, oh oh oh ohhhhhhh, SEE I DID IT”
He runs out of the bathroom with me yelling “Wipe your bum, wash your hands and PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON!”
“But I need to slide down the stairs, weeeeeeeeee”
And I climb out the bath to chase down my naked child, get him cleaned up and dressed and clean yet more poo streaks off the stairs, wondering if after 4 years I can get a refund on those damn parenting books!