{Nee Asks} Save my Sanity!

Ok peeps, I am in desperate need of some parenting advice. My child’s life is in danger.

See this sweet innocent face?


I could throttle it most days.

It is well documented on this blog that the Wilful One and I both possess the procrastination gene. But since turning 5, the boy’s has gone into overdrive.

He is such a bright, enthusiastic child who loves to have purpose and responsibility. Generally.

However, recently the most simple tasks have become drawn out beyond belief. Tidying up. Getting dressed. Getting a drink. Going to the toilet. Putting. On. Bloody. Shoes. ARGH!

If faffing around was an olympic sport I’d been signing him up pronto. He’d bring home the gold every time.

Having a tendency to dawdle myself, I am more tolerant than most and I have tried a number of things to try to help him get moving.

I step out tasks in order of events (he likes a plan), make it a game/race, pre-prepare as much as possible, offer rewards and of course, lots of good old threats. This morning I heard myself tell him he would be taken to school in his underwear if he wasn’t dressed by the time I got to the door!

So, I beseech you, for the sake of my son and that of my sanity, tell me your tips for keeping procrastination-prone youngsters on task and focused.




It’s all fun and games: a letter to my boys

To my dearest boys,

When will you learn that it is all fun and games until someone…

  • gets punched in the stomach
  • headbutts the brick fireplace
  • gets hit in the face with a metal train
  • face plants the tiles
  • gets whacked in the boy bits

Yes, all of these things sound familiar because they have already happened and more.

I understand you are boys. I know you like playing rough.  I will even go so far as to say I vaguely understand how it is beneficial to your manchild development by building resilience and other important… stuff.

However, I am here to tell you that I am not a referee. Nor am I one of those trainer types who runs onto the field to staple someone’s eyebrow back together. (Although for a while there I did fancy being a team physio so I could massage torn hamstrings for the likes of Dan Carter. Your father’s torn calf muscle earlier this year cured me of all such delusions).

The long and short of it is, at the moment you are both small and the tussles you have are mostly play. They resemble WWE Wrestling – big and showy but no one takes them seriously.  

However, I know there will come a time when these little skirmishes will become more testosterone-infused and we will have an all out brouhaha on our hands.  Things will get broken and there will be serious injuries. This is not an appealing prospect for me.

So my darling boys, please remember: 

It’s all fun and games until your mother has to turn the hose on you.

Linking up with  Jess @ Diary of a Stay at Home Mum for IBOT.