Thursday 4 April 2013

Nothing and Everything

It was just one of those days. Where nothing and everything happened.

A day when a soothing pot of tea restored the equilibrium after the afternoon's fraught tears.

But the morning began at a snail's pace, frustratingly lazy, the gloomy smog of a head cold setting the dial of my day to red - to not do very much at all. Just chill.

"Little A, mummy is feeling very tired, let's snuggle on the sofa, I'll turn the TV on."

"Mummy, can you get me some dried cheerios in a bowl and a beaker of warm milk?"

"What's the magic word?"

"Please."

This is often the way, when Little A has woken in the middle of the night, not returning to her sleepy dream world until at least an hour later. And curled under the warmth of a duvet, Little A's hand resting on my crown, the theme tunes of Tilly and Friends and the Postman Pat wash over me, lulling me into a half slumber like the delicate sound of lapping water at high tide - the crunch crunch of my daughter's teeth on her breakfast cereal, the only prevention of my being pulled fully under.

We break fast at 10 am. I have my bowl of 'proper raspberry porridge', Little A - the hungry caterpillar - digests two bowls of cheerios, this time with whole milk, and a bowl of mummy-made nutella pear porridge. Then to feed my cold - unbelievably, Little A still isn't satiated - I toast some thickly cut slices of sourdough bread, generously spread with unsalted butter and mirabelle plum jam. Thoroughly delicious. After time spent colouring in, browsing social media, that extra cup of tea, our morning feast has finally reached it's conclusion.

It's 11.00 am.

In the shower I chide myself with guilty thoughts, I'm such a lazy mum, useless at getting on, other mothers are out and about by 8.00 am. 

After such a slow start, the only remedy I can think of is to make the most of the rest of the day. Little A and I dress together in the main bedroom. I watch as she pulls on her red doggy top, flattening the blond hair against her head. She falls over on the bed mattress as her feet catch in her trousers. I rub my tummy with stretch mark cream before clothing myself in what feels like one fell swoop. Little A reads a book bundled in a duvet on the sofa while I methodically sort the dirty laundry from the clothes basket into piles - underwear, Little A's clothes, Younger Dad's shirts, my jumpers (Little A's clothes always take precedence in the washing machine).

At 12.00 pm we are ready for the big, wide world. Well the supermarket to be precise. And it's here, in the baby aisle, were the morning's peace somersaults into a pool of pandemonium. Splash.

"Mummy please can I have this skipping rope?"

"Well I guess I promised you a treat," as I inspect the object of my daughter's desires, turning it slowly around in my hand.

"Mummy can I have this toy car too?"

"Sweetheart, you can't have both - you will have to chose one or the other."

"I want both. I want both. I want both. Waaaaaah."

And so it begins. She shakes her head. She stamps her feet in frustration. She screams. She barricades herself in front of the trolley. I am forbidden to move. So I kneel down at her level, "You have to choose. I am sorry but you can't have both, now I have to finish the shopping, you decide which toy you want as we go around the aisles." Of course, the situation escalates, "but I want both, I want both mummy." I plough ahead with the formidable task of calmly continuing the shopping with a mini volcano following behind.

In dairy, she pulls and pushes against the trolley, tears flying from her angry blue eyes. In wholefoods she is violet with rage, screeching, wailing, channelling her fire into physical strikes against my right thigh. We find ourselves obstructed by a brown tower of stacked crates, and in turn we frustrate a lady behind us. As she passes I notice her severe silver bob, her strong jawline, her ankle length black coat, she's tall but stoops over her trolley. Could she be 75? I don't know but there is something rather resilient about her, clearly made of tough stuff. She reminds me of a hawkish buzzard or vulture. Then she stops, turns to me and says with her nose in the air, "look how angry she is, what an angry little girl, totally out of control, no discipline, you need to discipline her."

The stooping buzzard continues her shopping as if she's just handed me a bouquet of flowers. But I am rendered speechless. And I feel terribly mortified, totally judged and inept. Why do some people think it's acceptable to publicly judge a parent? It's like the modern day version of medieval stocks. Maybe they should hand out tomatoes and potatoes and cabbages so shoppers can lob them at will at unsuspecting mothers.

Little A continues her frustrated onslaught. I feel every eye in the supermarket. At both ends of the aisle I can see customers and shop assistants staring - some smiling sympathetically - in our direction. And then, like passing through the eye of a hurricane, the eerily calm centre of a storm, the tantrum simply stops.

"Mummy I want a cuddle," she says between quiet sobs,"can you put me back in the trolley?" With Little A fully cuddled, nestled in the plastic seat, I turn my back to her pretending to choose a bag of wheat free penne slumped on a shelf while hot self conscious tears roll down my face. I just can't let Little A see that I am crying. I try making a phone call to Younger Dad - sorry I can't take your call right now, leave a message and I'll get right back to you. Frustrated, I take few deep breaths, and a few more still, and one final breath to steady myself. I'm ready to take on frozen foods.

"Little A, I have come to a decision," as I place the petits pois on top of the pork, "because you lashed out at me, and the trolley, you won't be getting any treats this afternoon. And when we get home you are going on the thinking cushion."

"But mummy, but mummy, I want the skipping rope. Waaaaaah."

And so it begins again. The storm continuing apace. I calmly wheel Little A to the baby aisle and place the skipping rope back on the shelf. And then I calmly wheel the trolley to a small checkout queue, my face parked in neutral.

"Look at you - I feel just like that when I shop at M&S," A kind voice interjects behind my back, and it has the effect of slowing down Little A's latest tirade - her shyness dampening the blaze.

I turn around to face a warm presence. Her cheeks are ruddy from tiny broken veins. In her hat she wears a miniature fresh daffodil. She's dressed head to foot in green and brown. A mother hen. And then she says something that's so reassuring, so comforting, that administers an antidote, some happy medicine for the earlier poisonous criticism,

"You're doing a brilliant job mummy, keep it up."

And I wanted to hug her. To say thank you, oh thank you, thank you once again.

I don't think she'll ever realise how much she made my day.

How did you handle a public meltdown?
Have you been publicly criticised for your parenting?


If you enjoy reading Older Mum in a Muddle, please spare a thought for me in the Britmums Brilliance in Blogging Awards - The BIBS - there are sixteen great categories to chose from but I think I'm best placed in the writers category. You can click on the badge below to take you through to the nomination form on the Britmums page - there's only one week left to nominate..... Thank you! X.

NOMINATE YOUR FAVORITE BLOGS

64 comments:

  1. Oh no. What a nightmare. And why is there never any phone reception in the local Sainsburys? Are they worried we'll get a phone call and dash out without paying?

    You're a braver Mummy than me for putting that skipping rope back! And you are doing a brilliant job. It's not easy. There is nothing worse than someone making you feel an inadequate parent. I remember taking Pip to Costa Coffee to meet some friends when he was very small. He just screamed and screamed and people kept tutting, I didn't know what was wrong, so I kept trying to offer him the breast ( hoping it might quiet) him, but it didn't (so I just kept flashing myself everywhere including to my friend's husband). It was a nightmare, I was so hot and flustered, and it was made ten times worse by the unsympathetic, unsupportive strangers in that place. Parenting can deliver such highs but some days can be very trying...and at those times a little bit of understanding can go a long way. Thank goodness for Daffodil lady. I love her :0)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I can honestly say that was the worst shopping trip EVER. Yes, the phone reception in Sainsburys is very annoying.

      And that is not a pleasant thing to happen in Costa Coffee - breast feeding in public is delicate enough as it is without others tut tutting away. I am not surprised you felt so flustered - I would have too!

      Daffodil lady was a God send! X.

      Delete
  2. I could weep for you... that vulture.... but then the lady with the daffodil... what a gem... lovely post x

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It wasn't a pleasant experience by any means- talk about being in the right place at the right time with daffodil lady. X.

      Delete
  3. You ARE doing a good job and for the record I am never out by 8am, yes Ive been publicly criticised and no I'm not sure I handle my kids correctly every time or ever - often I'm just too darn tired! They seem to be ok though :) X

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Bless you - thank you. It's amazing how many parents are criticised. So know what you mean - I was tired too that afternoon. X.

      Delete
  4. Oh Sarah, I'll actually sobbing with you and for you. If it's any consolation I've been there loads and I've felt just like you. Anyone who says their child doesn't do this either has one that's too young yet or they're lying. I see it all the time.
    As for the old buzzard, she's just a condescending vulture, who either never had children or hers never went out in public with her!
    For what it's worth, I'd have done the same as you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh please don't cry :o(. When it's just you and your child(ren), you can mistakenly think it's only you this happens to. I hope I never see that woman again - I was so taken aback by her words. X.

      Delete
  5. Oh my goodness you have just made me cry.

    Firstly, who cares about getting up and out by 8am? We have years upon years of getting up and out when they start school. If we don't have to be anywhere we will stay in our pajamas all day sometimes!

    I have nothing to say about the old witch except that she can bloody well f*ck off. I had similar on a flight once when Bibs was crying during take-off (too young for her own seat and furious at having to be on my lap) and a man a couple of row in front shouted "oh will someone put a sock in it?!" I sat there totally alone with tears streaming down my face that I couldn't stop. Mr B wasn't with me that time.

    And thank goodness for the mother hen. How kind of her to say something.

    Karma will do it's work for these two ladies x And as for you, well you are fabulous and I think that you did the right thing by putting the skipping rope back on the shelf. I would like to think that I would do the same.

    xxxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh no don't cry Bibsey Mama - here's a tissue! We've had days in our PJ's too, and actually it's been just lovely and relaxed. Glad to know it's not just me :o). What a horrid thing to happen to you on that flight - the situation was so out of your control too - what are you supposed to do with a toddler that's going for it. I would have so cried to - what is it with some people?

      I secretly hope that lady had an acute bout of incontinence that night. Thank goodness for mother hens eh?

      Thank you X.

      Delete
  6. I hope that in her own strange way the first lady was trying to 'help'.

    You are not alone; public judgements are a given for us - I live with a child who looks like a regular kid, but with FASD (Brain damage) she cannot self regulate so easily. your little girl is on a path to self discovery and social awareness and you are helping her with that. Like all of this 'onion skin life' as we peel back the layers, there are bound to be a few tears along the way.

    Great post! Mx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Well that's a very good point - maybe she was in a very strange way. And her generation had a very different approach to parenting as well. I can only imagine the challenges you have helping your daughter to regulate herself emotionally. Thank you so much. X.

      Delete
  7. Lovely, lovely post that really spoke to my heart. I think we've all been there sometime or other....or more often than not! Ignore the vultures out there (wtf do they know? they're just unhappy people) and take the kind words of daffodil lady to heart - you're doing a brilliant job xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much! Vulture lady really took me by surprise, I just didn't know what to say, guess I was very shocked. But thank goodness for the mother hens in life - they really make all the difference. X.

      Delete
  8. You are doing a good job and how lovely for the Mother Hen to be there to tell you so.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you very much - I was very lucky indeed! :o)

      Delete
  9. gosh what a day for you! well done hun I would have cracked! got all this to look forward too eek :(

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tell me about it! I very nearly did crack - the cup of tea back home tasted very good indeed. :o).

      Delete
    2. Wow! Firstly the old woman, how dare she?! Secondly,I really REALLY admire the strength. The amount of times I give in for a quiet life, knowing full well I am doing nothing but making it worse. You are doing so amazing, really wish I had that strength xxxxxx

      Delete
    3. I know - I was very taken aback too, well shocked actually. Thank you that's very kind. X.

      Delete
  10. You're an absolutely amazing mum!!! Well done for not caving. I would have instantly given z both things to avoid any fuss but that's not really right is it? I hate hate hate those kinds of comments from the parenting police. What a really unkind and uneccessary thing to say!! I hope you're ok now. Thank god for the lovely lady at the end!! :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you you so much! I very nearly did though - it was difficult! 'The parenting police' - couldn't have said it better myself. And that lady at the end was a God send! :o). X.

      Delete
  11. That's just evil. At the very moment when you're trying your best and just want the earth to swallow you up, some judgemental person comes along and makes it even worse. I have no idea what was going through her mind and you did absolutely brilliantly to ignore her. You are the bigger person and a fabulous mum. Never think differently xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No, it wasn't very nice at all, and those sorts of comments are the last thing you need when you are having a hard time with a tantruming pre-schooler. Thank you so much for your support! X.

      Delete
  12. Oh, bless you. And well done. I would have been one of those sympathetic faces that says 'been there, and you're doing great.' I loved how you wrote this....I too have got down to eye level, wept in the supermarket and berated myself for not being 'up and at 'em' before 11am. Those that are are rare.

    As for the vulture...I actually turned to one once and said, 'so, what do you suggest? Please, feel free to show me how it's done.'

    She, of course, stomped off. I felt better for standing up to her and acknowledged the knowing nod from a friendly nearby shopper.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much Sarah, apart from the Daffodil lady at the end, there were very few supportive voices - just a lot of glaring and curiosity. Good to know that other mums aren't up and at 'em' by 11.00 am, feel reassured.

      Good for you for saying what you did to 'your vulture' - not surprised she stomped off :o). Glad it felt good (I lived vicariously through that :o) ). And nice you had a friendly nod too! X.

      Delete
  13. I never crack, got the tshirt! TC loves shopping and lets you know, but it is quite trying at times so I write a list and get on with it but she "helps" choose the food. A few weeks ago we had the full blown throwing myself on the floor legs kicking red faced tantrum in a lovely quiet bookshop. Everyone looked, one lady gasped haha, I told them all to stop staring and she was fine as she was once I got change for the sooty and sweep machine!
    Nothing changes over the years, this all happened with my first too, we are all fine!
    You are a great mother, never let anyone chip away at that! xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh good for you! That's a great idea - I'm going to get Little A more involved in 'choosing' food, that will keep her distracted. Oh Lordy - TC went for it in book shop - good for you telling them all to stop staring! Thank you MLM. X.

      Delete
  14. Waves of empathy! I hope we can all learn more from your mother hen. Xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you very much - Mother hen was so kind! X.

      Delete
  15. I got once told off for wheeling my baby around sock-less (the baby had no socks, not me). Slap on the wrist for me, the worst mother of the year. It was a very hot day...not 20 below zero in Siberia. Laugh at Venom Vultures. Glad you met a Mother Hen after the ordeal! x

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You are kidding me? That's ridiculous! The level of public parent bashing it pretty astounding when you think about it. Mother Hen was fab! X.

      Delete
  16. God I hate those self righteous, sanctimonious people who think it's perfectly OK to say such things. Do they think you're enjoying what's going on? I will never get it. It just makes me want to tell them a few home truths. Clearly the batty old witch had forgotten what it was like, or maybe was unfortunate enough never to have known. Although in her day I think children were too scared to have a tantrum in public because they would have been roundly smacked. Which solved nothing, just humiliated the child. I hope we never go back to those days. So I think just feel sorry for her, clearly she has no insight, for whatever reason, and no empathy and no human kindness. Her loss, not yours. Just a thought about the people who look as I'm starting to have a bit of insight into that now that little man is a bit older. If I hear a child screaming, my natural instinct is to look in it's direction, just because a scream is such an alarming thing, maybe a child is hurt or there is some other emergency. Once I see it's just a tantrum, I turn away again, but maybe the parents have seen me looking in that instant, and misjudged me, thinking I am judging them.

    Wow! I don't get the opportunity to comment for ages, and then when I do it's an essay on child psychology and the witchiness of some people who think they know it all. Sail on, OM, you know you and your child, no one else has that knowledge. Leave them in your dignified wake. xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much for your support Polly! And it is certainly a generational thing - it was the norm to give your child a good smacking publicly back in the day. But I refuse to ever humiliate Little A - there are better ways. Honestly, it's those who comment who have the problem, and I am sailing on :o). And if I hear a child scream, I tend to do them as you - I don't mind people glancing so much - it's the commenting that's out of order. But next time I see a mum having a hard time, I will remember to offer an encouraging word. Thank you X.

      Delete
  17. Reminds me a little of a post @Glasgow_Mummy wrote about a visit to the GP where an older man had a go. It is so tough but you need to hold on to that sense of yourself as a woman and also that you are a mum who is doing her absolute best. Also to recognise that perfection is impossible in any area of life. Send the parenting police to Coventry whenever you have the strength to do so. I am glad an angel masquerading as a human being turned up with a kind word. Sometimes people who treat you badly have their own issues and when times are quieter, you have to forgive them hoping that in quieter times they might realise they stepped out of line.
    Sending you all the best. This parenting lark is tough.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You are so very right Kate - hold onto my sense of self that I'm a good enough mum and woman. (that must have been unpleasant for @Glasgow_Mummy). That lovely lady did very much feel like a fairy God Mother - just came out of nowhere. I feel calmer about the situation now, and I hope the old lady had some insight too. Tis tough indeed!. :o).

      Delete
  18. I would have done exactly the same and put the skipping rope back. Well done you.
    As for your lazy morning, we love those too... although with our new puppy this has changed a bit now!! ;o) xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you very much for your support - that's good to know. And good to know it's not just me that likes a lazy morning. I'll bet that puppy has you up in the morning! X.

      Delete
  19. Oh you did so well. It can be so very difficult. The kindness of strangers (the second lady) amazes me everyday. She sounds like a mother. The first lady doesn't - or perhaps so long ago that she has lost the means to understand. Lovely writing xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you very much Ellie! It certainly does put your faith back in human kind when receiving kindness like that - she felt like a guardian angel. Thank you. X.

      Delete
  20. I would say that I would have tied up the old 'dear' with the skipping rope and bundled her into the deep freeze aisle... but then that would show a level of evilness that I best stay hidden!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Now that made me laugh - why didn't I think of that solution in the first place :o) Ah well.... people eh? Just hope I never bump into her again! :o).

      Delete
  21. What a wonderful lady - a true angel, arriving just when you needed her. I have had many moments like that and even if you don't actually hear disapproving words, the looks are often enough. I try to be the one who nods and smiles in an understanding manner now. Although mine have moved on from this stage, we still have our challenges, just of a different kind. Very wise decision not to allow any treats - the harder option but better for her long-term. Very well written post :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Wasn't she just? She was such a tonic. And I am going to take a leaf out of your book - if I see another mum in the same position, I will offer a reassuring smile and words too! Thank you for your support! :o).

      Delete
  22. Oh, I feel your pain and admire your resilience. There are ALWAYS 75 yo's (or 35 going on 75 yo's) about and they are simply not.worth.the.space.in.your.head.

    With a child on the Autistic spectrum I've had horrendous public meltdowns, when he was younger. Truly horrendous and quite a number of them. And very similar reactions to the one you received.

    The best one involved me, having grown a neck the thickness of a Rhino hide, bringing him into a favoured and familiar cafe only for him to start screaming and crying for no apparent reason (probably anxiety and smells around him.) I calmly sat us at a table, ignored queuing and watchful eyes and carried him to the window where we simply spent time looking out and calming the tears/screams down.

    I saw 2 old ladies, 1 a nun, constantly watching me.

    I eventually sat down with my child and dared her with my eyes to reproach me. Nun or not she'd get a mouthful as I'd had enough of wrongful public perceptions of my child's beahviour. (how is ANY child going to learn to behave in public if we don't let them go through a meltdown and teach them??)

    Eventually the old ladies were leaving. The nun approached. I steeled myself and looked her straight in the eye. 'You are a wonderful mother and he is such a beautiful child' said she...as I felt the tears rising.

    Teaching me that sometimes perceptions can work the other way!

    xx Jazzy

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I cannot believe that parents get so much public flack, and I can't believe that you were also on the receiving end of it too. I find it quite abusive actually - not in the best interests of anyone.

      Well done you for handling the tantrum in the cafe so well, and anyway, they calm down eventually. And what a lovely thing of that Nun to say - bless her - I would have cried too.

      But I don't blame you for thinking you were being judged - after all that is what you'd grown used to!

      Thank you for such a lovely comment Jazzy. X

      Delete
  23. I like Mammasaurus style! Lol!

    Vulture woman sounds like a mean, nasty person...or maybe she is losing her marbles and didn't used to be so mean. Either way, not nice for you. Hope you are ok now. My eldest was always, always, always a nightmare in the supermarket...without fail, he would through a wobbla so I became tough to the tuts, dirty looks and snidey comments and would totally blank anyone who dared tut me...or I would simply say "How rude of you!" and just glare. They would soon hang their bullying heads, lol.

    How lovely was Mother Hen! xxx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I guess I have to give vulture woman some leeway - who knows what her circumstances are, although gut feeling tells me she wanted to use her years of wisdom to tell me what to do. I like your approach, and saying what you think - often people don't expect a response! Mother Hen was fab! X.

      Delete
  24. I had a very similar experience with my 4 year old son last week. We were on a bus though - a full one at that. For almost the entire 25 minute trip home I had angry shouts of 'I hate you mummy, you are not my friend' and lots of tears. There was an awful lot of tutting and whispers of 'uncontrollable brat' and 'he needs a good smacking' from the other passengers but luckily there was a lovely lady sat in front of me. Kind and understanding.
    Most people should keep their opinions to themselves, dealing with tantrums is difficult enough without them making us feel like we're doing something wrong. Good on you for keeping calm and much love to all the mother hens out there!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh no - poor you, that must have been really, really horrid, and what unpleasant criticisms you had to had to put up with - how totally rude. Thank goodness there was kind lady there for you too. Absolutely - respect to all Mother Hens! :o).

      Delete
  25. Oh no!

    What a tough day - tantrums are so stressful at the best of times, but with an added head cold... arrgh!

    It sounds like you approach tantrums in the same way as I do - a neutral face and trying to carry on as normal. It does take alot of energy, the pretence of not being stressed.

    As for the mean woman, it sounds as if she hasn't had any experience of dealing with small children. I'd love to hear how on earth you're supposed to 'discipline' a child out of a tantrum - sounds more like fanning the flames to me!

    I hope equilibrium has been restored, I hope head colds have gone and I hope that the mean lady is thoroughly ashamed of herself!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. So glad to see you back in blog land again! The whole episode was very trying and tiring. And you are probably right, she may have no experience of handling children. I find the only way to deal with a tantrum is to let it blow itself out. And equilibrium has been restored! :o).

      Delete
  26. Wow, what a cow, that horrid lady! I can never believe that people think it's appropriate to make such thoughtless remarks. No-one's ever done it to me (at least not that I've heard - I am quite oblivious to my surroundings most of the time...). In my head I like to think I'd totally give 'em a tongue-lashing right back - in reality, though, I know I'd stand there open-mouthed before bursting into tears.

    Alpine Girl and I stayed in our PJs all day yesterday. Alpine Boy has been known to do it too. My thoughts are that as long as they put different PJs on before they go to bed (or at least wipe the Weetabix and Play-Doh off) then you are ticking all the parenting boxes...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Like your style with the PJ'S!!!! I think me and Little A should have a few more days like that - just really relaxed. And that lady was very unpleasant - I hope it was just a bad day she was having and not usually this cantankerous! Thank you Alpine Mummy! :o).

      Delete
  27. What a total cow. And presumably either childless or forgetful. All children have their meltdowns, and judging from the families I see weekly in the supermarket, many of them like to have them in public. There is no shame, other than that laid on our already heavy shoulders by strangers. You are a wonderful mum. Most of us are! We can only do our best xx

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No, was wasn't very nice - I could really have done without her scathing opinion - I was having a hard enough time as it was trying to manage Little A. Thank you so much for your kind words and support! X.

      Delete
  28. So sorry to have only just seen this - you ARE a wonderful mother and Little A is just a normal threenager doing her thing - good for you for teaching her a lesson YOUR way - not the way of the old bat - which could possibly have been with one! Hope you're feeling better by now and BTW FYI I don't know of ANY mums out of the house by 8am, even for the school run. Make the most of those lie ins - they're gone before you know it! Much love and Respec' XXX

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. No need to apologise :o) Thank you Anya - I didn't feel that great at the time. I gave Little A a strong, firm message in the end - so far we haven't had too much trouble since. Think we are going to have a few more pyjama days! XXX.

      Delete
  29. I once had an elderly couple follow me pretty much the whole way round Tesco telling me how I should deal with a toddler tantrum! "When she gets home, mummy will be writing to Father Christmas and telling him not to bring you any presents, won't you mummy?" and "You may even get a smack if you carry on, won't she mummy?" etcetera. Nightmare.

    Pyjama days rock! Ours were in their pyjamas till three o clock last Saturday and only got changed cos we decided to go to the pictures. x

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. You're kidding me? Where do they get off on all this? How totally, totally rude !?!?! Pyjama days are where it's at - we've had loads recently! X.

      Delete
  30. You are such a wonderful mother and she is a lovely little girl who, like all other 3 year olds, is pushing you as far as she can to test what works for her to get her way. You handled the situation perfectly. I've not had a run-in with a daft old woman in a supermarket yet but think the only way to deal with these situations is to smile sweetly and move along before pushing it firmly to the back of your mind :-)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you so much - that was a really kind thing to say. And exactly - she is a three year old doing what all three year olds do! And I think your reaction if something similar happened to you is very measured and sensible :o).

      Delete
  31. They are enough to drive a girl to chocolate aren't they? brilliant you did everything right!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Tell me about it! Thank you very much! :o).

      Delete

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...