I'm starting to think I should rename this blog Home Office Rant. Because that's all I seem to do of late. And here's another one...
Why is it that children behave so appallingly for their mothers yet behave as though butter wouldn't melt in their mouths when their fathers walk through the door? Why is it that we do 90% of the parenting - all that 'fun' stuff like potty training and weaning and teaching manners - and dads get to do the playing rough and tumble and building dens? Why is it that you can ask your children to clean their teeth 20 times but their fathers just have to say it once and they jump to attention?
And why, why, why when you complain about this to the aforementioned father or mention how shitty the kids have been on a given day, does he try to suggest parenting strategies and point out where you might be going wrong? At what point does he think this is actually helpful?
He might suggest things like: "You just have to be firmer." or "I have a zero tolerance policy." or "I don't let them get away with the little things so they don't try the big things." or "You need to be in the same room with them and spend all your time with them because then they won't misbehave."
I might try this last one. I might just see what happens when I stay in a room with them all day. I won't go to the kitchen to make meals. I won't put any laundry on. I won't take a shower or have a pee. I won't work (god forbid). I won't tidy anything. I will just be with the kids. I can see it working, you?
Is there a point where you can send your husband to the naughty step because he still doesn't get it? Doesn't he know that if I can't rant to him about how the children are driving me insane, that I will have to rant to the internet instead? Doesn't he realise that I'm not looking for answers, I'm looking for sympathy.
Because the bottomline is this: when it comes to little boys, their mother is the person who feeds them, nags them, washes them, carts them around and gives them cuddles when they sit still long enough. Their father is the dominant male in the house. And like a pride of lions, the cubs can either tow the line or get ousted by their father. That's why they do as they're told when he speaks. That's why my roar will never be as loud.
I'm off to have wine.
2 comments:
Ah, it's the Venus v Mars thing.
A long time ago I read (well started to read, then got bored) Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars. About the only bit of it that I can remember is that men are "fixers". Tell them any problem, and they immediately try to fix it (wish this worked with the drippy shower in our en-suite!). Women will empathise, but men just can't get that all we want is a, "oh you poor thing, have they been awful all day, never mind, I'll get the wine for you".
I'll give you sympathy in bucketloads. I know what mine are like!
Much sympathy, although going away for a weekend and leaving them to it does tend to help. You find that the only reason that the dominant male thing works is that it is new and surprising. Twenty four hours and the shine wears off a bit! Try running away to sea.
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