Monday 21 November 2011

Law and Order

Working as I do in the criminal justice system, there are times when I have reason to pause and wonder: just what exactly made this young man (and it usually is a young man) like this? Was it a childhood full of neglect, a mother or father who used bad language at them, shouted at the top of their voice at them, made unreasonable demands or expectations? Was it living in poverty, being from a broken home, a godless life in a selfish country?


Thank the Lord, I think smugly, that I am not like that. No no, I am a paragon of motherliness, loving, serene, ever-patient, attentive and kind. My bairns do not misbehave, they 'challenge the boundaries'. They have no 'evil streaks', they are merely human. All these judgements, failings, complaints and desperate acts are misdemeanours of which others are guilty. They have no place in my parenting repertoire. Ahem. Yeah. That's right...


Axis Towers, approx 7.32pm. There has been much singing, dancing, general merriment and smearing of Nutella on newly laundered sofa covers. I've asked, cajoled, ordered and begged - with nil resultat. Finally I've had enough. I take a deep breath and summon up a motherly roar: 'Will you PLEASE put your SODDING underpants in the SODDING dirty bin and get in your SODDING BED NOAH!' The cavorting Pie stops mid locomotion and says, in mock shock 'Mum! You naughty! You said 'sodding'! You can't say that! It's NAUGHTY!' I'm too cross to come up with a mature response, and I'm (slightly) ashamed to admit I just said this: 'Yeah, Pie? And WHATCHAGONNADOABOUTIT?'

Pie eyeballs me. There is a surprising amount of steel in his gaze. Quick as a flash he responds: 'I'll tell the police.' He waits, a smile forming very slowly, for my reaction. I crack, and burst into hysterical laughter. 'You little...' 'Mum! Don't say it!'


The little toad. He follows this up on the way to school the next day. Having done his darnedest to get out of going to school ('I'm ill/I'm not supposed to go in today/I think perhaps I'll just go two days a week') he resorted to the inevitable 'but Muuuuuuum, WHYYYYYY?' at which I told him that he had to go to school or the police would arrest me. Perhaps this was a little short-sighted of me, but I was very, very exasperated by this point. In fact, I think a little me-time in the cells at Trinity Road nick might have been not unpleasant, all things considered.

However, to reach Pie's school from our house there is a relatively long, single track lane. It isn't wide enough for two, and if you get stuck behind a dawdling five year old and his whingeing lump of a toddler brother, you're nigh on forced to listen to their conversation. Which, this morning, went a little like this:

Pie: Mum, the police aren't going to come and get you, are they?
Me: What! Shush, boy.
Pie: Cos I'm going to school. I'm only going to school for you, Mum. To stop the police from coming to get you. That's how much I love you.
Me: (forced laughter) Eh-he-heh, um, yes. How funny you are. (Aside) OK, you can put a sock in it, now.
Pie: I don't want the police to arrest you and put you in jail, Mum!
Me: (desperately) Shut UP, Noah.
Pie: Cos what will happen to me and my little brother?
Kong: Yeeeeah! I his little brudder! Poor Leo! Dat me! You carry me now?
Me: I don't know, Noah, but if you don't shut up soon, we're all going to find out...

Later on that day, I decide to treat the Axis to a fish and chip tea at the relatively new chippie up the road. I reckon a large pile of grease and batter might soak up some of their excess energy and help them adopt the docile temperament of these obese, lethargic children we're always reading about in the press. The Axis could do with a bit of lethargy, so, forgoing the carrot sticks and quinoa, off we trot.

This turns out to be a BIG mistake. So tinged with horror was the whole event that I cannot bring myself to recollect it in detail. Suffice to say, after the Kong was retrieved from the top of the menu board and the shop owner confirmed his insurance covered him for 'slipped on a chip' injuries, whether said chip was strategically placed by rambunctious Pie or not, we legged it back up the road in a ragtag fashion, me with one boy under each arm, them clutching a styrofoam box filled with clammy bounty. At this point one of the other mums from school came the other way and started waving and smiling. The smile faded as we got closer. Her own two children, the same age as mine, were strolling quietly side by side, in step with their mother. They had no ketchup in their hair. Neither of them had recently been cause for a call to the non-emergency police number. And there was nothing dripping or oozing from either of them. How jealous I was.

'I was just going to take mine for tea to that new chippie,' she said, looking nervously at the half dangling, half swaying Axis, just about still in my grasp, and baying for blood (or perhaps just chips). 'But if that's the effect that food has on them...'

I hoist the Axis a little higher, prompting little yelps of protest that I found oddly gratifying. 'Oh no,' I reply. 'The food doesn't do this to them. They haven't had any yet.' And with that, I march the Axis back to our house, put them down outside next to the bins and pray for a bit of peace. When I come back they have smeared their food all over the outside wall of the house. Resisting the temptation to smear them alongside it, they are once more swiftly dunked in tepid water and dispatched to bed. And lucky old Mummy gets to spend the evening hosing down the house so as not to attract vermin. Perhaps that should be 'any more vermin'.

Wednesday 9 November 2011

Punchdrunk Lovesick Singalong

(...there is a prize for anyone who can tell me where the title of this post comes from. )

There is no telling where the Axis' loyalties to one another may stand or fall. They need close monitoring in case World War 3 breaks out most of the time; occasionally, they will be so affectionate to each other it goes beyond endearing and spills right over into nauseating. For example, over half term, I had cause to send the following text message: 'Apols Pie cannot come to lunch today because has punched brother in face. Blood (nose). Pie grounded. Sys'. Then, just as I was mulling over how to best punish errant Pie, the Axis suddenly decided they must be together at all costs, even at night: 'Leo has to sleep in MY bed. I WANT him. I just LOVE him. And when I grow up I want to MARRY him!' The Kong nodded vigorously: 'Yeah. Yeah. Wuv you Woah, lots and lots.' All this said whilst clutching each other in what had started off as a headlock and was now most definitely an embrace. Stinking pair. I slung each in his own bed, ignored the screams of agonising separation and swanned off. The next morning, Pie got up to use the bathroom and Kong promptly jumped on his bed, cradled Noah's monkey and started singing a beautiful song (well. I'm sure it's beautiful to someone). And how did Pie receive this token of adoration from his beloved brother?

'GET OFF MY BED! AND DON'T TOUCH MY MONKEY!'

That's more like it. Phew.