Fancy Mothering

Are we done with these bloody bank holidays already? Maybe some folks out there enjoy an extra day of “rest” but here at the Fancy Home they are anything but a holiday. Bankers don’t get bank holidays, remember? And Nanny #1 v2.0 takes them off, if you can believe the nerve. (Actually, she’s completely entitled and I enjoy the occasional Mummy day. But still. It reduces optionality.) In truth, the Minis and I had a truly lovely day yesterday but it left me wondering. Who is really responsible for the fact that they are growing up into lovely, engaging and well-behaved children? I want to think it’s Fancy here. But I’m not sure. Turning a critical eye on my parenting skills, I’m going to say that yesterday was not going to win me any Mother of the Year awards. No, seriously. Okay, you judge.

It started off okay. We all slept until 8. Then the Minis watched 3 back-to-back episodes of Elmo while Fancy here unpacked the Ocado delivery (I know, I love Ocado). What was I to do when they got into the groceries and began screaming in delight? Yes, they did have a breakfast of spicy tomato puffs and chocolate. So sue me.

Elmo exhausted, we turned to musicals. And then some cartoons.

The Minis have now moved past chocolate and have grazed on cereal, a container of pineapple and several sips of coffee. (Stop! I turned my head for one second!)

H came lumbering down the stairs around 11 (it was a rare bank holiday on both sides of the pond. Which meant he could work from home. Apparently also from his bed, with his eyes shut. What a talented man.) “Can I go to the gym?!” I exclaimed, barely containing the desperation in my voice?

“Sure. What time do they nap?” he answered.

“Oh, we’re skipping naps today. They slept late you know.”

In a shocking Fancy Marriage Moment, he sat on the floor and pulled out the Legos. Fancy here made a beeline for the door, running into spin class just as the lights went down.

Not only was I not winning Mother of the Year, Wife of the Year also slipped from my grasp. Because yes. That was a lie. The second I got home, into their cots went the Minis. How else would they make it to the end of the day?  I really needed an extra hour of peace. Honestly H. You’re so gullible.

Naps over, we were off to their scheduled art class. Seriously? Who comes up with this stuff? Toddlers + paint brushes? How does Nanny #1 do it? The minute I realized what was about to happen I called a time out. The Minis were stripped down to their Nappies. Yes, some eyebrows were raised. But TC and The Princess thought it was hilarious, smearing paint all over their bodies and screeching in delight. It was very Lord of the Flies. And really quite awesome. Plus saved Fancy here some laundry. Clever, no?

Cookies and fruit bars on the way home. In the rain. Without the rain cover. Because when we left, it was sunny. And Fancy threw the rain cover back into the house as we departed, muttering, “Can’t understand why Nanny #1 always insists on keeping that stupid thing snapped to the pram.” Oh. I see.

Into the bath they went, bits of glue and paint and cookies and grime swirling around them. Sometimes we skip a bath on a Mummy day. But that wasn’t going to fly this time.

And finally dinner was served. They threw it on the floor. I guess cookies at 5pm will do that to you.

Tossing the last of the Minis into bed, I poured a fat jug of wine. “That was a lovely day!” I told H. Just thank God they’ve got the Nanny tomorrow to get them back on track. You know, nutritious and carefully timed meals. No 6 hours of television. Remaining fully clothed in public. Little things like that. 

What do you think?