Narcissistic Parenting Disorder

Another day, another break up of a ‘star’ marriage, be it Johnny Whatsit or a ‘celebrity’ personal trainer; these are the ‘men’ who walk away from their children and run to someone else who may be younger, or prettier and aren’t burdened with looking after his children. Meanwhile who takes the kids to school, helps with their homework, washes their sports uniforms? While the little boys are taking selfies with their girlfriends on red carpets and jetting off on fun holidays, the women who are left behind are the ones dedicating themselves to child rearing. What does it do to a teenage girl to see Daddy running off with someone young enough to be her elder sister? Yawn.

Are these the role models we want for our boys? Males who’ve been in relationships that lasted less time than a bottle of Morning Fresh detergent (that stuff lasts ages). Guys who can’t hang around when the going gets tough in a marriage? Ask anyone who has been married for a long time and they’ll tell you that the going gets tough at some point in a long term relationship. Good blokes can you have a word with your mates? Please tell them that kids need their dads. I don’t want to male bash, I know some fabulous fathers, but I’m not meeting a lot of deadbeat mummies. 32% of babies in the United States are born to single mothers, and in 2006 mothers headed 87% of one-parent families with children under 15 years in Australia.

Parenting isn’t glamorous, it isn’t fun a lot of the time, it’s about making tough decisions and showing kids there are boundaries to their behaviour. To do that you have to be in the same space as children. Being there for a kid means physically showing up, cleaning up their vomit in the middle of the night, sitting through school concerts even when you’re bored, showing kids that as a parent you want to be in their lives for all the important moments. Any monkey can take their children to a cafe. Fathers who think that going to a trendy hairdresser is more important than being with their kids are not attractive. Yes, the rules of the game are being redefined but parenting isn’t something you can opt in and out of and decide to sit out on the bench for a few years, you’re either there or you’re not. Kids are tough bosses, they notice when you don’t show up for parenting duty. I meet many teenagers with mental health issues, and troubled adolescents are being admitted to hospitals in greater numbers than ever before; I truly believe that family breakdown plays a part. A lot of these kids crave time with absent parents. As a survivor of domestic violence I’m not advocating staying in an abusive relationship forever, but I really don’t think modern men are trying hard enough to keep it together for the kids or themselves.

Divorce is painful for kids. So if your relationship is faltering from the burdens of modern life, not enough time or money or extended family to give you a break from the relentless pressure of work, child rearing, nursing ageing parents and paying the bills, get thee to a good counsellor.

All the research apparently says that kids from broken families do fine eventually. But there are a lot of tears, heartache and wasted energy between now and the mysterious destination called eventually.


New Year’s resolutions

Parents don’t really need to make resolutions, we’ve already given up everything, our sanity, our sleep and secure employment. But I have decided to make a few resolutions for 2012:

1. I will give up late night drunk dialling and adding provocative comments on the Facebook pages of spunky men in the New Year. I don’t think it’s helping my dating prospects.

2. I will eat green vegetables and chocolate will not be the only food group I consume when my kids aren’t with me.

3. I will wean myself off reading star sign/astrological forecasting/personal analysis websites (mostly).

4. I will exercise daily (including chocolate eating competitions)

5. I will become a sophisticated urban professional, find a nanny for my children and secure a high-powered executive position. Will work 15-hour days armed with lots of gadgets to make me look successful and I will act terribly important while nanny feeds and clothes my babies. Nanny will rescue me from the quagmire of my life. Damn, why can’t I invent something simple in my kitchen that makes me a million bucks?

6. I will abandon all resolutions by 6th January and carry on with my usual debauchery.


A lesson in humility

My Menace is little but she could punch anyone’s lights out. She is skinny but very strong. When she wears a dress I think, don’t be fooled by the facade, she is really a warrior. On the weekend I was trying to make her clean her bedroom.

“I don’t like this doggy,” she said, then threw her stuffed toy that looks like road kill at me.

“Mama, I’m a monkey, what are you?” she said.

“I’m a horse,” I said.

“A dead horse.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“No, actually in Chinese astrology I’m a fire horse.”

“No, you’re a dead horse, Mama.”

Most days I forget to laugh with my kids. Mothers take themselves very seriously.


School Holiday joy

Ah, the first Monday of the first week of the school holidays. This morning I actually thought I would,

a) be able to finish a sentence

and

b) be able to finish a cup of coffee before it went cold

and

c) be able to put a load of washing on before my children started to maim each other.

My theory is that Mother Nature makes us naive enough to think that today will be different. This time I’ll be the perfect mother and my children will be characterless robots with clean bedrooms. How’s the serenity?


Teenagers

Teenagers are like Queensland, beautiful one day, a nightmare the next.

On Saturday my 14 year daughter glanced down at her floor-drobe. She had nothing to wear but clothes that were fashionable at breakfast time. All this while I turn into an aging cougar. Except that I am the anti-cougar, the tracksuit pants wearing tragedy in tired trainers, wishing I had some energy left over from mothering and working to desire a makeover.

This week teenage beast cleaned up her floor-drobe and turned into an interior design fascist. She wants me to be the queen of minimalism on a single mother budget. If her sisters place so much as a Barbie on the floor she screams.

She is also a control freak about the music we listen to at home. I mention the Bee Gees and she looked blank. I said,

“Back when dinosaurs roamed the earth there were three brothers who wore tight white pants and hair-drier-fluffy-wind-blown hair singing falsetto disco hits.”

“Shit mum, they sound Palaeolithic.” There is no one more hip than a teenager and no one who has ever suffered more.

So I dedicate this song to her. Whether you’re a mother or whether you’re a brother…..


Parenting thought for the day

I wear pyjamas to work every day, My dad used to say “Are you wearing that for a bet?” because I used to go the pub with my friends dressed as a nun. On Saturday nights my girlfriends would be looking glamorous to get the guy and I’d be wearing a black smock and a crucifix. Now I’m a clown I get paid to look like a fruit loop at work, so the idea of going out in public dressed in a tutu has lost its appeal. And my nine year old and her ten year old best friend tell me that while kids can dress crazy, mums are only allowed to go a little nuts in their attire. There are standards that must be upheld. Don’t want to embarrass the kidlets do we? Especially before they’re teenagers. Hopefully I’m not the only mother who is trying to be a style icon my way.


School holiday crafty activities

My youngest had an advanced case of school holiday boredom. The big sisters were playing with friends. It was raining so we spent the afternoon at the kitchen table with art paper and jars of watercolours. I painted what I thought was a fancy fish. Then my youngest handed me her best painting. I looked at the figure she’d painted.

“That’s a nice hat.”

“It’s a soldier mumma, with a big furry hat.”

“The soldier has a love heart on his hat.”

“Her hat. It’s a girl soldier mumma, girls don’t shoot people, they show people where to go. Boys shoot people.”

“I like your soldier,” I said.

“She’s a meat eater mumma.” I looked perplexed and she nodded.

“A meat eater? Don’t you mean a beefeater? I think you’ll find those soldier are called BEEF EATERS.”

“No, she’s a meat eater.”


Raising Amazonia

The Amazons are a nation of all-female warriors in Classical antiquity and Greek mythology. Even though I have no formal training, I am raising three amazons:

Miss Maturity 14 – my shrink said there’s a touch of the Saffy and Edina (Absolutely Fabulous) relationship about us.

Miss Marshmallow 9 – she is sweet, soft and squishy.

And Miss Mental 5 – she is zany and hilarious, she has my crazy personality trapped in her father’s body.


School holidaze

Other people have mongrel children, not me. My children will behave like angels throughout the long holidays, while I tut-tut at the whining monsters of my neighbours.

DAY ONE

Children with brushed hair happily eating five course dinner. Happy Mother

DAY TWO

Ten hours of Monopoly. In pyjamas until 4pm.

DAY THREE

Five hours at Build A Bear Workshop

DAY FOUR

Seven hours of Lego

DAY FIVE

Don’t hit your sister

DAY SIX

Don’t hit your sister

DAY SEVEN

Baked beans are fine for breakfast, lunch and dinner

Don’t back chat your mother

DAY EIGHT

Stop farting at the table

DAY NINE

“This family have taken a vow of silence.”
Don’t hit your sister

DAY TEN

“Shut up we are supposed to be having a spiritual experience!”

“Don’t hit your sister”

DAY ELEVEN

“Eat your frozen peas”

DAY TWELVE

“Your grandmother would really love it if you went to her house for lunch, then dinner, then breakfast. Sorry I can’t come I have to alphabetise my recipe books.”

“Mum you’ve never used a cookbook.”

DAY TWENTY THREE

“Kids we have run out of money. You will have to get a job.”

“But I’m only nine.”

“100 years ago I could have sent you down a coal mine to support me.”

DAY THIRTY THREE

Mother sitting on couch chewing finger nails down to the knuckle, tearing split ends out and other I-am-at-a fashionable-day-spa behaviour. Television explodes, so mother reads gossip magazines stolen from neighbours’ recycling bins. Happy, happy, most mags were new. Kids locked out in garden, can barely hear their fighting.