This is always going to be a tricky one. Let me start by telling you what NOT to do:
1. Don't leave it too late
2. Don't make it personal.
When I was 18, and after having been at university for two terms, my mum sat me down in her room to give me "The Talk." She proceeded to tell me in graphic detail about her first time with my dad, while I tried in vain to imagine myself in a happier place, humming 'Lalalalalala' on a loop in my head.
Therapy has not helped.
She also tried to scare me by informing me that once 'it' was over there was a knock on the front door and there stood a nun as a sign from the Lord that she had committed a cardinal sin by indulging in sexual intercourse outside of marriage. Now I'm all for scaring kids into behaving, but if mum had asked me, I could have saved her the warning and the embarrassment. At 18, "The Talk" was a little too late.
Sorry mum.
I have tried to always be open and honest with my small fry, answering their questions about their bodies as they arise, and I am proud that my kids all talk to me about sex quite openly. Not quite so proud when they start asking about periods or pubic hair in restaurants. But despite some minor teething problems, openness so far seems to be working better than stories of nuns.
It's important when talking about sex to clarify the question before answering. For example, if a child asks, "Where did I come from?" check before you launch into a full explanation about 'Special Snuggles' that this is what they actually mean. I fell foul to this with Bobby. After explaining in a very lengthy, mature and sensible way about conception and birth (on the bus, I might add) she said,
"No, I mean where was I born?"
I'm a great advocate of using the correct terminology to avoid confusion. Talking about seeds and eggs to a child of four or five is enough to have them fear chickens and garden centres. Babies do not come from tummies, they come from wombs. A friend of mine who was heavily pregnant with twins took her four year old to the park. On the bench sat a lady who could only be described as huge. Her little boy, having been told that mummy had two babies in her tummy, looked curiously at the woman before asking,
"How many babies have you eaten??"
Using the correct terminology also has the added bonus of annoying teens; when they swear, you can correct them by insisting they say 'Sexual Intercourse off', or call someone a 'Masturbator'. Hours of fun.
If all else fails and your stubborn teen remains firmly on the path to promiscuity, scare the heck out of them. There is a scene in the film 'Little Shop of Horrors' where Steve Martin as the Dentist is warning a timid Rick Moranis of the dangers of a neglected mouth (see photo). Watch this scene, and apply it to the dangers of sex.
You might think this last tip is a tad extreme, but before you judge me too severely let me ask you this: Do you really want to be a Granny/Grandpa at the age of 30? No? Didn't think so. Scare away!
Today: An important warning
It is your job as a parent to teach your kids about sex. If you don't, they will leave home and you will just begin to get your life back when they will move back in with boy/girlfriends and babies, who will then grow up and trash your house whilst their mum/dad goes out on the town all night and sleeps all day, leaving you to babysit.
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!
Mama Jax
In these frugal times we are all having to tighten our belts a little. With Christmas coming up, budgeting is probably to the forefront of most people's minds, especially when you have kids. Last Christmas, hubby and I decided to go for homemade hampers for that 'personal' (i.e. cheap!) touch.
I have a wonderful friend whom I love dearly who bought me the most beautifully exquisite crystal tree decoration. Our 'homemade Christmas' idea didn't seem quite so inspired as I presented him with a personalised gingerbread man...
I have discovered with Phyllis that she is a media child and will ask for whatever happens to be advertised on T.V. at the time. I have become very cunning, and will ask her what she wants from Santa during adverts for Pringles.
There are ways, however, of making your small fry earn for you. There are obvious ways, such as child modelling, but much as I love my small folk I can admit quite openly that it is not for everyone...
For older kids, paper rounds and Saturday jobs alleviate the need for providing pocket money, and serve the double purpose of freeing your house of teen friends who will eat all the food in the fridge and bump up the electric bill with a variety of games and gadgets.
To be a financially savvy parent requires one to think outside the box. There are several places where money is lying around for the taking, and having a small child makes the job of taking it much easier. Here are a couple of examples:
1. When Bobby was little we took her to a pub/restaurant for a family 'do'. She got a bit fidgety, so we allowed her to go for a little toddle around, always keeping her in sight of course. She came back with about £15 in pound coins. When I asked her where she got them from, she said that most of the empty tables had money (that's tips to you and me) on them so she just helped herself.
2. When Peter was about 18 months we took him to church. I took my eyes of him for a minute to check in my purse for change for the collection; when I looked up, the bag had been and gone and Peter had a fistful of fivers.
Now I'm a really honest person, so I couldn't keep the money my kids had 'found' but it just goes to show there is money out there for the taking.
Actually maybe don't take this advise. With an influx of mini criminals the government will have to introduce Baby ASBOs and Kindergarten Jail, which means our taxes will be increased to pay for it. On reflection, this is a false economy.
Now where did I put that number for the model agency...
Today: How much should you put in the church collection?
It's a tricky one. You don't want God to think you are mean, particularly as He decides on your fate after death, but on the other hand if you only go sporadically you don't want to give loads towards a church roof that you won't appreciate. I have a friend who just opens up her purse and empties out the contents. Some weeks God gets £10 or £20. Other weeks he gets 24p, a Kirby grip and a used bus ticket. It all evens out in the end.
Mama Jax
Bobby on the second night
After Bobby's Diva-esque behaviour on the first night of the show, the director decided, wisely, that our small Heavenly Host was too much of a liability to be allowed to wait on stage. Instead she was to wait in the wings with Marshmallow Lady, who would nudge her on when it was time to 'appear'
Up to the point of Bobby's entrance, all had gone swimmingly. Mary's soul magnified the Lord, 3 Kings bore gifts and traversed afar, Shepherds watched flocks, inns had no room; it was everything a nativity should be.
Gabriel, safe in the knowledge that no small people were waving from behind her wings, shone with glory as only an Angel of Our Lord can. (Literally- the costume mistress had got a deal on a job lot of sequins. Most of the audience sported sunglasses.)
It was Bobby's big moment and she was poised like a greyhound in a trap. Unfortunately, Marshmallow Lady, instead of sticking to direction and just nudging, must have decided to 'big up' her part. At point of nudge, she whispered to Bobby, "Mind you don't trip over your dress." Bobby, freakishly obedient for once, grabbed her skirts, held them high over her head and streaked onto the stage in a blaze of gold costume and navy blue knickers. Her dress was held so high that she was unable to see where she was going, i.e. where to stop, the result being that she ran straight across the stage and off the other side. End of scene.
Gabriel and the shepherds shuffled off the stage awkwardly, like bewildered Telly Tubbies. There was no Heavenly Host in the sky that night, although to be fair they had been given the message only the night before...
Bobby, distressed at missing her big scene, was again mollified by marshmallows.
Hmm... Does anyone else think these antics may have been planned by a cunning Heavenly Host with a penchant for fluffy treats?
Today: The birth of Our Lord (rewritten by an 8 year old)
During my teaching practice I heard tell of a nativity where the innkeeper and Joseph both had a bit of a crush on the girl playing Mary. The boy playing Joseph was made up with himself- holding her hand, putting his arm around her and sneaking the odd kiss. Little did he suspect the evil plot brewing in the jealous innkeeper's mind...
Joseph: We-are-weary-travellers-and-my-wife-is-with-child-do-you-have-any-room-in-your-inn?
Jealous innkeeper: Mary can come in. You can b***er off!
Mary pulled in, door slammed in Joseph's face, and... Scene!
Mama Jax
Bobby
All three of my small fry have inherited my love of all things theatrical, daahling.
Bobby got her first taste of treading the boards at the age of 3 when she was cast as one of two 'Heavenly Hosts' in the church nativity. This was a proper 'show', mainly adults, with real lights and everything, and not a tea towel in sight.
The show was on for two nights. On the first night, the other Heavenly Host (the director's small son) got stage fright and refused to go on, leaving all the Heavenly Host glory to Bobby. And boy, did she milk it!
The plan was that while the shepherds were watching their flocks by night, Gabriel would be on stage, but in darkness, with the Heavenly Host hiding behind her enormous satin wings. At the given cue, the lights would blaze, the Heavenly Host would spring forth from behind Gabriel's wings and lo! the skies would be filled with angels (or angel) saying, "Glory to God!" That was the plan. This is what actually happened:
The shepherds, as well as watching their flocks, were engaged in an 'entertaining'* and 'comic'** chitchat about wind. The audience, much to the shepherds' surprise, began laughing. The shepherds, already hammed out to the acting max, upped their theatrical game. The laughs increased.
Little did they know that in the background a small Heavenly Host hand was waving at the audience from behind Gabriel's wings. Laugh. The hand disappeared, then waved again from the other side. Laugh. Then a hand appeared from one wing, and a foot from the other in a bizarre Superman/Angel love-child fusion. Laugh.
On her cue to appear, Bobby got tangled up in the enormous satin wings. Gabriel, looking embarrassed (she was a teen), tried valiently to untangle her. Once freed, Bobby stomped to the front and literally ROARED, "Glory to God!!!" No wonder the poor shepherds reacted with fear and trembling. Would you want a pint sized, growling Heavenly Host jumping out at you on a dark night??
It was at this point that Bobby realised that her part wasn't all it was cracked up to be. In true Diva style, she refused point blank to leave the stage. Gabriel tried desperately to usher her off, whilst one of the stage hands stood in the wings and tried to coax her off with a bag of pink marshmallows.
The following night, the direction was amended...
Tune in tomorrow to find out what happened next!
Mama Jax
*Not really
**Definitely not!
If you have a teenage son or daughter, you will know that no matter what you do or don't do they will find you embarrassing. They will hate your music, your clothes, your decor, your social interactions, anything at all you say at parent consultations... The list is endless.
So what I say is, if you are going to be an embarrassment anyway, why not have some fun with it!!!
Hubby and I sing along to show tunes at full volume in the car with the windows open ('Oklahoma' being a current personal favourite due to 'YEEOW!' opportunities).
We have decorated our house in colours so vibrant they would make Laurence Llewelyn Bowen consider sunglasses.
We have a 'phone shaped like a pink stiletto (keeps them off the 'phone!) and a cuckoo clock with a camp donkey which 'Hee-Haw's on the hour every hour.
We dress up in fancy dress whenever we get the chance, party or no party.
We talk about "Special Snuggles".
We wear t-shirts with slogans such as 'I beat anorexia' to parent consultations, and we generally enjoy ourselves!
Bobby's current catchphrase is, "I'm SO going to take you on Jeremy Kyle..."
We had an outing to Lyme Regis last year with a very good friend of ours and his small person. The kids were all pretty relaxed, safe in the knowledge that, as it was fairly chilly, the beach was pretty much deserted and there was little chance of bumping into anyone they knew. Oh how wrong they were!
"Oh look!" whispers Peter, pointing subtly, "There's Miss Carter from school."
Hubby and I exchanged a swift glance before yelling, "MISS CARTER!!!" and diving behind the wall. Miss Carter turned and waved in a friendly way.
Peter and Bobby were not amused.
"Why would you do that, why why?? I'm SO going to take you on Jeremy Kyle..."
The most embarrassing thing though is that all their friends think we're actually pretty cool... Now that IS a crime!
Today: Dressing up dare to parents of teens
Hubby and I have Smurf costumes (long story) and love dressing up in them of an evening, blue faces and all. We've never got round to it, but here is the dare for anyone brave enough:
Dress up as a Smurf, go to a cinema where they are showing the Smurf movie, and when you get to the front of the queue, put your money on the counter and say,
"Two for 'Harry Potter' please."
Go on- DARE YOU!
Mama Jax
I confess it now- I'm a daddy's girl! To me, there is no-one else in the world who comes even close. Even with the socks and sandals.
My dad, as well as being a master joker (see 'How to teach your kids to have a questioning mind'), is also the King of conspiracy theories. I don't mean the obvious ones, like 'Who is Prince Harry's dad?' or 'Elvis is alive and working in the chip shop'. Oh no, my dad's theories are much cleverer. In fact I'm surprised he hasn't been head hunted for MI5. Or maybe he has and he's just not been allowed to say...
My personal favourite of all his theories involves the Queen Mother. Cast your mind back to August/September 1997 when the media-created 'People's Princess' was tragically killed in Paris. There are a lot of conspiracy theories surrounding this 'accident', but none quite so plausible as my dad's.
My dad's theory is that the Queen Mother, by this time old and poorly, actually died at the same time or shortly after Diana. The royal family, knowing that their matriarch's death would be overshadowed by the media frenzy surrounding Diana's death, decided to keep the news to themselves until the hysteria had died down and Britain's upper lip was stiff once more. They estimated, erroneously, that this would take about 5 years.
With this end in mind, they hired Dame Thora Hird on a 5 year contract to pose as the Queen Mum's stunt double. You may scoff, but from that moment on YOU NEVER SAW THE TWO OF THEM TOGETHER! Co-incidence? I think not...
By 2002, after 5 years of playing the Queen Mother, Dame Thora's contract had come to an end. Her Majesty the Queen, aware that the furor over Diana had NOT died down, tried to engage Dame Thora in a further 5 year contract, but Dame Thora refused, forcing the royal family to announce the 'death' of the Queen Mum earlier than they would have wished. The announcement drew a respectable amount of media tributes, but nothing like the glory the Queen wished for her adored mother. This, obviously, annoyed the royals and wheels were set in motion.
Dame Thora died of a 'stroke' exactly a year after the announcement...
So, surviving my gene pool? Are you kidding?? With that amount of brilliance swimming around in it, I'm grabbing my tankini and jumping in!
Today: A Marilyn moment
"While tearing off a game off golf
I may make a play for the caddy
But when I do, I don't follow through
Cause my heart belongs to Daddy" x
Mama Jax
The thing about having several children is that you invariably end up with lots of pets. At our busiest we had 7 dogs (2, plus 5 puppies), 2 bunnies, 3 cats and 3 chickens. We are now down to 1 dog, 3 cats and a bunny, with 2 guinea pigs on order.
One of the consequences of having so many pets is that sooner or later one of them will die and you will have a distraught child on your hands. Phyllis went through a hamster phase. Her first hamster was lovely, really tame and friendly, but when that one "shed it's coat" she had a horrible vicious thing which bit everyone with its tiny hamster fangs. But like Emily with Bagpuss, Phyllis loved it. When it died, I asked hubby to go and get another one (only £5- bargain!) and tell her once again that it had "shed its coat." Hubby however thought she should be told the truth, as dealing with death is part of life.
That evening I heard the whole story of what had happened...
Hubby had broken the news to Phyllis that Demon Hamster had gone to the great hamster wheel in the sky*
Phyllis was adamant it was just asleep in its house, so to prove that Demon Hamster was in fact dead, hubby shook the hamster house and out thudded a very dead hamster onto the floor in front of Phyllis. Phyllis screamed hysterically and refused to be comforted.
By the time I got home from work, a red-eyed yet much cheerier Phyllis bounded into my arms and excitedly cried, "Mummy, my hamster's dead. It's sad but guess what... DADDY'S BUYING ME A KITTEN!!!" And not just any kitten, oh no. A £50 rescue kitten. £45 more than a new hamster.
So the moral of today's tale? All pets shed their skin from time to time, children. It may make them look different, but they're still the same £5 pet you know and love...
*Code for "It's burning on Beelzebub's barbecue as we speak"
Today: Where does milk come from?
Teaching my kids where food comes from...
Me: What do we get from cows, Phyllis?
Phyllis: Burgers, roast beef and milk.
Me: And what do we get from pigs?
Phyllis (thinks): Pink milk!
Mama Jax
