Friday, August 1, 2014

FFS!? Friday : Potatoes

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Seriously, what kid does not like potato?

We're talking french fries, chips, crisps.

Mstr5 is going all Master Chef on me on a daily basis.  FFS!?

He loathes roast potato.  Will gag on it with a hurt, pleading look in his eyes while I stare him down. FFS!?

He loses his shit over mashed potato.  We wage a Mexican Standoff over the dinner table while he places mashed potato the size of a pea in his mouth and blows his cheeks up as if his mouth is full, in an effort to fool me.  FFS!?

And then sits there like that for TWENTY MINUTES, with one pea sized bite of mashed potato in his mouth.  FFS!?

Meanwhile I am clock-watching and gradually losing my shit as this regular performance drags on and on. FFS!?

Give the kid french fries, chips, crisps - and he'll out-eat even his father. FFS!?

Because, according to Mstr5, they are not made from potato...they are made from potato.  FFS!?

I've tried mixing his beloved peas and corn in the potato, and then watched him painstakingly remove each one and clean the mashed potato off, before eating them.  FFS!?

I served up potato cakes and he didn't know what to do.  His face was a mix of panic, confusion and terror as his love/hate potato relationship was taken to this new, unknown and unexpected level. FFS!?

It is a fucking potato.

How can you enjoy the exact same flavour fresh from the oven in chip form - but not roasted?  FFS!?

It is simply a larger, slightly different shaped, version of the exact same bloody thing!  FFS!?

It's not a texture issue, as he'll eat mashed pumpkin or carrot.  FFS!?

It's not a flavour issue, as I've even tried drowning it in his beloved tomato sauce, mixing in his favourite cheese, everything.  FFS!?

I had pretty much given up on him, and decided to fill his plate with more of the other vegetables and only a tiny bit of mashed or roasted potato (lest I let him think he's won and completely remove the offending carbohydrate).  FFS!?

Last week Mstr5 decided he would eat mashed potato again.  No FFS!?

But only if I made it special.

No problem, I'm desperate.

So I asked him how it was special that magical night when he deemed it delicious.

But he refuses to tell me.  FFS!?

He looked at me over the top of his glasses, with his beautiful blue eyes, and said "you know Mum".  FFS!?

He's totally screwing with me.  FFS!?

He laughs like a sadistic little maniac when I serve it up and declare it special.

I then sweat on whether or not it is actually special.

Some nights it's cheese.  Some nights it's tomato sauce.  Most nights it's BLOODY NOTHING SPECIAL.  FFS!?

It's like the kid is bored, or hasn't been particularly excited by anything on any given day, and so he creates his own entertainment via our ongoing potato feud.  FFS!?

The delight on his angelic little face as he watches me slowly lose my shit when he deems that night's potato not special.  Mini mofo.  FFS!?

This goes on for up to 40 minutes before he finally gives in and says "Okay Mum (sigh)...alright Mum...(sigh)...I'll eat it, but only because you asked nicely....(mega sigh)".

And suddenly I'm thanking him.


He is turning my parenting methods around and using them against me.  FFS!?

I did not pick him to be the cunning one.  Least of all over the humble potato.  FFS!?

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Forget Doctor Google, TV is where it's at

Where is Dr Ross when I need him?

Miss8 is apparently exceptionally unwell with a whole range of ailments.

She tells me so frequently.

Where I defer to Dr Google for my lounge room diagnosis, she chooses, instead, to flick through TV channels and declare her ailments based on whatever 15 second ad is spruiking a miracle cure at any given time.

We're talking everything from migraines to joint pain, muscle cramps to a need for patches to quit smoking.

Requests for posture support garments, to writing 'Osteo pills' on my shopping list.

We're talking dramatic claims of morning sickness and erectile dysfunction.

On the same day.

It's really hard to muster up a degree of motherly concern and sympathy when your 8 year old comes to you with a distraught look on her face, gravely advising you that she has morning sickness and 'rectine disco-function'.

I mean, ignoring the whole clearly she is watching far too much TV side of things, it is quite entertaining.

On any given day my darling little angel may be channeling her inner arthritic 80 year old who simply must have a walking frame and extra supplements for her poorly joints...

Or her inner professional body builder in desperate need of the latest and greatest protein muscle building powder to maximise her performance and muscle growth.

Miss5, desperate to be her older sister, has also jumped on the bandwagon.

She emerged from the toy room, all woe is me, clutching her stomach and claiming very very bad migraine - while pointing at her belly button.

Anything Miss8 claims to have, Miss5 claims to have but much much badderer.

Because everything is a competition with sisters....even faux medical conditions.

The only ads that hasn't caught Miss8's medical attention, are the bladder weakness ads for Depends.

When quizzed on this, Miss8 was all outrage and disgust while declaring only babies wear nappies...

I've tried to educate her on the whole 'boy who cried wolf' story.  How will I know when she is really truly ill?  When will I know to take her seriously?

At which point she asked for one of those panic alarm buzzers - the ones marketed at frail, elderly people who live alone and may not be able to get up if they take a fall and pop a hip.

Because she doesn't trust me to responsibly care for her various conditions.

Truth be told, all of this is simply further proof that she is my kid.

It is exactly like my own childhood ailment that #1Nana and #1Pop never ever took seriously -

Critically life threatening but completely false asthma attacks, triggered by weekly sports class and the annual grade school cross country race.  Complete with town ambulance.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

A tribute to YouTube parenting

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Dear YouTube,

Thank you, from the bottom of my wine soaked mummy tummy, for all the things you've schooled me in.

So far this week alone, there have been two massive saves thanks to YouTube:

1.  OMG the world as we know it is about to end because my Samsung Galaxy tablet won't charge or turn on.

With the assistance of YouTube and Austin Scott's guide to DIY Samsung Galaxy repairs - Austin apologised at the start of his clip for his recent absence, on account of taking his Mum's car and being grounded...before producing a knife and jimmying open his tablet....

I get that his mother was pissed about her car, but dude has skillz and I would be nurturing that electronic genius.  It saved me around $200 in repair fees, all for the low low price of one steak knife and 5 minutes of frantic effort while the kids kept watch for #1Hubby (who would've completely lost his shit if he saw me attacking one of our e-babies with a sharp implement).

Pop the back off, disconnect and reconnect the battery terminals, and huzzah!  I have lavished attention on my e-baby ever since I gave it the kiss of life.

Thank you Austin Scott and YouTube.  You completely saved me from losing my shit.

And it totally counts as YouTube parenting because it's an e-baby and it doubles as an e-babysitter with the IRL offspring.

2.  All things loom band

About three months ago, I caved to the pressure of this phenomenon and bought the girls the cheapest kits I could find.

Yesterday I finally deferred to the YouTube gods on how to loom.

We had previously attempted it my usual style - winging it.

It was a roaring disaster and, for a short time, I had the girls convinced that the entire process was placing the bands on the plastic grid and then taking them off and starting over again.

Sadly, they grew wise to my severe lack of know-how when they kept seeing TV ads of fancy bracelets and purses and beanies (seriously...a loom band beanie?  WTF?).

Three months of half-arsed parenting and feeling only slightly guilty about it, and it took the perky mastermind from Mastermind Toys all of 3 minutes and ten seconds to explain it in an idiots step by step visual for my good self.

Which I had to watch three times to get it right.

Have now reclaimed Mother of the Year status, and my girls' world once again revolves around my awesomeness.

I mean, we're only on the basic band.  But I figure there's the next school holidays and the next ones and the ones after that through to at least 2018 to master the fishtail, double band, and coveted beanie and purse.

Total parenting win on account of the blissful hours of silence I am enjoying now that the girls are not all I'm borreeeed and this is wrongggggg and they don't hold together like the bracelet on the boxxxxxxx and she flicked hers at me and it got me in the eye and now I can't seeeeee.

Excellent school holidays entertainment that I probably should've sorted in the first few days, not the last....

So, yeah.  Some people choose to read books or instructions or ask those in the know.

I choose to defer to YouTube when in parental doubt.

It's so much better than Wikipedia because it has pictures and videos for easily distracted people like....ooh squirrel!

Much love til the next parenting crisis,

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