You know how it works. You have children.They develop their own personalities from day 1 and unlike robots, they very much work off their own volition. Constantly.
As a consequence, every now and again you find yourself delivering a string of words that you never thought would ever fall out of your mouth. And in all honestly, I say three of the sentences below at least two or three times per week.
Can you please pick your nose?
Emmie is not a nose picker. And she screams when I try to pull the detritus from her nose. It’s so disgusting seeing them just hanging there. Peeking out. Like a crusty snot fountain waiting to escape. I really wish she’d just realise how gross it is and facilitate my request.
God I wish you liked chocolate
Again Emmie. This sounds like one of those smug wishes. Ones that you actually want everyone to know about, but of which you’re not so secretly proud. Do you know how difficult it is having a child that does not like chocolate? The fact that I have to explain it, pick it off things or more often than not, deal with the fall out, when we’re at a party or friend’s house, of a disappointed child who wants something delicious but not chocolate. And there’s only chocolate.
We have to come back to Marbella again this year
In some Brit circles, there’s a real stigma attached to holidaying on the Costa del Sol. That said, I’ve probably been about 10 times previously.
But this holiday that we just took was just amazing for a hybrid Anglo-American family that lives in Germany. Everyone speaks English. And I say that as someone who can still speak pretty good, post A-Level Spanish. It’s just such a relief after living my pigeon German-speaking life to go somewhere close, hot and British.
The food. It’s not necessarily British but it’s not the limited German offering either. Believe you me; the choice we have here of German, Italian or döner gets old. Fast. And the sun. 26 degrees in April whilst the rest of Northern Europe is having a year-long winter. That suits me down to the ground.
I need more time in the day. To exercise
For the last 5 or so weeks, we’ve made it a habit to get up at 5.30am to fit in a daily dose of exercise. But sometimes I’m tired and I want to stay in bed. But I can say with 100% certainty that if I don’t get up and do it, then I’m so busy throughout the day that I don’t manage to fit it in later. I just wish that there was a magical hour, possibly just before dinner when I’m still slightly with it, that I could slope down to our basement and work out.
Please don’t go to sleep`
Both of my children are nappers. I’m sure Emmie will be going to school and still need to rest her weary head at lunchtime. But recently, they’ve taken to falling asleep at 4pm. Just as I’m starting to cook, and the dinner, bath, bed routine is about to commence. It’s bloody frustrating and then naturally means that the 7pm bedtime goes right out of the window. Most nights at the moment one of them is up until at least 9pm which makes my evening non-existent and getting them up the next day so very painful.