Five ways my children take after me (that I wish they didn’t!)

When my kids are doing something pretty annoying, my natural assumption will be (after much huffing and puffing and fervent eye-rolling of course) ‘well you don’t get that from me, that’s just like your father!’ But if I’m being honest, I’m not completely guiltless in passing on a few undesirable attributes to my kids. And the older they get, the more apparent it is that they share a fair few foibles with yours truly.

So (deep breath) here we go – this is where I reveal the most annoying traits that I’ve shared with my hapless offspring.

Sheer bloody mindedness

So first off the mark, is the unrelenting feistiness of my Mini Minx. Nearly two years old and her ballsy determination shows no sign of abating. (That girl’s gonna have Katy Perry’s ‘Hear Me Roar’ as the soundtrack to her life, I’ll betcha).  I also have a tendency to be like a dog with a proverbial bone when I set my mind to something.  One example was my surefire determination to give birth naturally (to the Mini Minx in question). At one point in labour I was arse-way up, practically doing a handstand through three sets of bloody painful contractions to try and turn my stubbornly (see?) back-to-back baby for an easier exit (unfortunately it didn’t work – but I gave it my best shot – and Katy, you bloody bet I was roaring).

So, I’m secretly rather proud of her gutsy approach to life.  You could say she has a healthy ‘can do’ attitude which will totally stand her in good stead later on – I know she won’t let no bossy boss tell her what to do, or let some bar-steward easily break her heart, or let anything stop her from being England’s next best rugby player / Nobel prize winner /Britain’s next female astronaut.

Only trouble is, much as I admire her ‘give no f*@ks’ attitude, it’s bloody exhausting. One area that she is pretty uncompromising on is sleep. This is due to the fact that she suffers from a severe case of FOMO (fear of missing out). Sleep is for losers as far as she’s concerned and if mum and dad are up, she ain’t gonna miss the party (honestly love, we’re just slumped downstairs in front of the tele watching re-runs of Jack Ryan). Until recently, we’ve been able to keep her within the confines of her cot. But the little imp has now worked out how to scale her bars with ridiculous ease and most evenings she’s pole vaulted out of her wee fortress and can be found doing victory laps around the landing at 9 o’clock at night. Best not imagine what she’ll be climbing out of as a teenager…. bedroom window rather worryingly springs to mind..!

Having things ‘Just So’

So next we move on to a bit of a collective family trait. Scientifically this is known as ‘having things Just So’.  And those of you familiar with my blog, will already be aware of my rather ‘pernickety’ tendencies. As my husband also suffers from this affliction, with our pooled genes it’s no wonder that my son is a stickler for being a ‘bit particular’ as well. Oh and did I mention – we all have very different ideas of what ‘Just So’ actually is?  So even the simple act of loading the dishwasher can become a very painful exercise indeed.

One rather shining example of this was Peagate. I was preparing a (very nutritionally balanced, obvs) meal of chicken nuggets, chips and peas for my young charges and feeling generally confident that this particular dish was a double banker (i.e a winner with both kids). Then, Little Lad duly informs me that he would like precisely one hundred peas on his plate – no more, no less. FFS. So muggins here, knowing that anything remotely different will just not do (i.e. mother-of-all meltdowns waiting in the wings), sets about counting out 100 frozen green little blighters into a pan of boiling water, doing my best to stay focussed whilst my Mini Minx hangs off my legs, the chips are burning and the smoke alarm is blaring in my ears. Silly mummy, only 99 peas on the plate. Cue the mother-of-all meltdowns.

Man alive, do they like to talk…

Remember when you spent hours with your babies cooing at them and waiting for them to utter their first melodic syllables back to you?  And wasn’t it the most purest, angelic sound in the world when they did?  Yeah well, fast forward four and a half years and you’ve got two of them screeching out ‘Mummmmmeeeee’  for 12 hours a day, whilst your eldest gives you a running monologue on the shape and size of his latest poo, and your youngest is shrieking ‘babeee sharrrkkk’ until you get that annoying Pinkfong video up again on Youtube (see point 5 below)….and before you know it, you’d give your right eye to go back in time and only have the sounds of belches and farts emanate from their little bodies (although thank gawd the evening-long colic-induced crying is a thing of the past…).

Again, I gotta hold my hands up here and say I’m entirely to blame.  My husband will be the first to tell you (err…or not, he usually can’t get a word in) that I can talk the hind legs off a donkey.  I guess that’s why I spend a lot of time blogging these days…I got a lot to say and it’s the only way I get heard above the din.

He’s a bit of a geek

Now as much as I’d like to believe I’m cool, and despite briefly going through a bit of a grungy stage in my youth (I wore DMs a lot), I am, at heart, a Total Geek.  I’ll fess up and say I get immense satisfaction from getting stuck into a cryptic crossword, chilling out to Classic FM (when the kids allow it) and boy, just get me in front of a tantalising episode of ‘Forbidden Histories’ or Andrew Marr’s ‘History of the World’ and I’m in bloody heaven.  And as they say, like attracts like, so an exciting date for me and hubby is an afternoon at the British Museum or a day trip to Bletchley Park to try and crack the code breakers.

And so it seems, my Little Lad is a complete chip off the old block(s) too and has Total. Geek. running through his veins.  At nearly five years’ old he can tell you all the names of the Greek legends, each and every regular name of the Marvel And the DC superheroes (it’s Bruce Banner not David Banner doncha know) and his favourite CBeebies must-watch programmes are ‘Do You Know’ and ‘Catie’s Amazing Machines’.  Hmmm – maybe he is slightly cool after all – Maddie and Catie do totally rock!

My kids like to shake their funky stuff

Now, in and of itself this is obviously a very fine trait to have indeed. After all, what other activity is more exuberant than throwing some shapes to Mr Brightside on full blast? And I’d like to think, naturally, that the kids have got rhythm, just like their ol’ ma. However, the problem lies more with their penchant for wanting to boogie to such utterly brain-melting classics as Baby Shark (along with the gazillion remixes out there) and Hey Duggie’s infamous Stick Song. Again and again and again. Shoot me now.

Truth be told, it does kinda remind me of my 30th birthday party. Let’s just say I was going through an Elvis appreciation stage, and in my drunken delirium and of the stoic opinion that ‘it’s my party’, I insisted on bringing out my inner Elvis, belting out Suspicious Minds at the top of my lungs (replete with gyrations and arm swinging) no less than a dozen times. So karma got me good on that one, eh?  Apologies now to all my mates that bore witness to that, I totally feel your pain now…

So there you have it, my rather embarrassing confession of less-than-desirable character traits I’ve inflicted on my children. Poor buggers.  What ways do your kids take after you that you wish they didn’t?

This post was written as part of a Write Club challenge – this means that lots of other brilliant bloggers also wrote about the subject.  If you fancy checking out their awesome posts – read on!:

Tales From Mamaville

Twins, Tantrums and Cold Coffee

Me, Them and The Others

The Mulberry Bush

A Life Just Ordinary

Me, Annie Bee

The Incidental Parent

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