My oldest is turning 12 tomorrow; I’m not quite sure how that happened at all. Meanwhile, my smallest is ten – and in less than one month, this blog will turn ten too. A whole decade of Whinge Whinge Wine! What a ride.
Back in 2015 when I started writing this blog, it was all about the kids, but it’s been quite a while since I wrote anything about parenting.
Once children get out of that baby/toddler/starting school phase they stop doing ridiculous things all the time and start becoming real people, and it feels a little bit unfair to moan about them all over the internet. Even if they’ve been a proper dick. Which mine obviously aren’t, because they’re perfect angels. But once their problems morph from being ‘I don’t like this spoon’ to real things about friendships and growing up, I think we can all agree it’s not solid, funny, blog-fodder (and I don’t want to have to pay for therapy)
Sometimes I look back at photos of my kids when they were small and feel a little pang of nostalgia.
The chubby cheeks! The giggles! The nonsense words, the constant learning, the daytime naps.
Then I remember the sleepless nights, the not-so hilarious public tantrums, and the following you to the toilet and demanding you pee with them sat on your lap. It’s funny how your brain blocks out trauma like that.
Now they’re older, louder, and somehow still don’t know how to flush the toilet, but occasionally I do miss those early years; just not all of them.
So here it is: a balanced (ish) look at the joys and horrors of having little kids.
9 Things I Miss
1. Cuddles on demand.
They used to climb into my lap like it was home and come into my bed every morning without fail. Now I’m lucky if I get a half-hearted side hug when they want something. Eye rolls are more the love language of tween kids.
2. Being their entire world.
Back then, I was their hero; their world began and ended with me. Now I’m the woman who doesn’t understand why ‘6,7’ is funny and isn’t allowed to sing along to KPop because it’s, like, so embarrassing even though no one can hear. I’m not even allowed to walk with my oldest to school in case someone sees her and realises she has parents.
3. Early bedtimes.
7pm and silence. What a concept.
OK it wasn’t all plain sailing, but once they were down, it was MY time. Now they’re up until I go to bed, loudly watching morons screaming on YouTube or pissing about at 10:45pm.
4. Soft play (sometimes).
Yes, it smelled faintly of feet and despair, and they usually came out with a new tropical disease or other, but there was coffee – sometimes cake – and they were contained and entertained. For hours!
5. The magic.
Everything was an adventure! A walk to the post box could be an exploration; every stick and rock inspected. Now everything is boring unless it involves laying down a hefty sum and even then, it’s touch and go.
Christmas was the most exciting time of year, and the real fear that Father Christmas was watching and they might not get presents could stop bad behaviour in its tracks for weeks.
6. Little voices.
Learning to talk is super cute. Like when they make up their own words; pasketti, aminal, ‘letigooo‘. And when they mispronounce things and it sounds a bit like they’re swearing. Bloody hilarious.
7. Being able to dress them.
Matching outfits! Cute hats! These days, suggesting a coat is met with outright rebellion because god forbid they admit to their friends that they sometimes get cold.
8. CBeebies.
I used to moan about it, but honestly, I’d rather watch an hour of Hey Duggee than listen to someone shouting at Minecraft for entertainment.
9. The illusion of control.
They actually used to listen. Sometimes. Or at least pretend to. Now every request is a negotiation that would break the UN and they won’t be bribed with haribo.
9 Things I Definitely Don’t Mis
There’s tired, and then there’s hallucinating-in-Costa-because-you-haven’t-slept-since-2013 tired. I mean, now I have perimenopause-related 3am wide-awake-staring-at-the-ceiling sleep deprivation but it hits differently, as they say. At least now my kids are old enough to go to the loo by themselves – and maybe even make me a cup of tea – in the morning rather than demanding porridge from the blue bowl at 5.56am.
2. Soft play (the reality).
See earlier note about smell, noise, and tropical diseases.
3. Tantrums.
About the fact that toast is too toasted, or not toasted enough. Or because you used the wrong bowl. Or because their sock is funny. Especially when played out in the middle of the supermarket.
4. Never finishing a cup of tea.
Every hot drink went cold and most snacks stolen by the sneaky dog while I was busy dealing with some crisis or other.
5. Leaving the house.
Getting two small children into coats, shoes, and a car seat was a full-contact sport that took 45 minutes and ended in tears (usually mine).
6. Tedious kids’ TV on loop.
7. The mess.
Toys and crumbs, literally everywhere. So much snot. And WHY was everything ALWAYS sticky? Urgh.
8. The pressure to enjoy it all.
You couldn’t just survive it; you were supposed to cherish every moment. No, Susan, I don’t cherish being puked on at 4.36am or having to apologise because my child’s nappy has exploded all over the floor at Rhyme Time.
9. The total lack of personal space.
Couldn’t shower, wee, or sneeze (or do all three at the same time) without an audience. Now at least the only one following me into the bathroom is the dog.
Do I miss those days? Sometimes.
Would I go back? Absolutely not – Not without a guaranteed full night’s sleep and/or a live-in nanny.
These days, I’ll take the lie-ins (ish), the semi-independent children, and the joy of knowing that everyone can wipe their own bum. Nostalgia is lovely, but sleep is better.