Mothering not mothering.

I’m not entirely sure where this ramble is heading this evening. I thought I’d begin with a title that is kind of nicked from my teenager daughter’s list of ‘teen speak’ although I’m sure she’ll correct me that I’m out of date on that too!

I think I wanted to talk to you about…the next stage. Of life that is. When I last kept a blog my kids were little. They were also funny. With their everyday exploration and curiosities came hysterical antics that couldn’t have been made up and they provided wonderful material for my blog.  To this day I remember my middle one telling his teacher about the “constipations” we’d watched the previous evening.

So where are we at now? These days my role has changed. I knew it would, obviously, I’d be stupid not to. It’s funny though, I got my wish, I raised independent kids, only sometimes it feels like I have been bitten on the bum because they are independent and getting on with stuff, ringing once a week or if they need to ask something. Don’t worry, this isn’t going to be a self-pity post. 

However, there are moments when they do call, or text…actually, they don’t call, who am I kidding, they FaceTime or video me via messenger, both of which I am getting quickly up to speed with.  I frequently find myself, after I’ve stood over my daughter’s homework, being the recipient of a lesson myself on ‘How to Snapchat using Filters and not be completely uncool’, or, the best one, ‘How to actually end a FaceTime call so you’re not still being heard by your eldest when you think you’ve turned him off!’  My poor husband was scared witless the week when I sent him a hideous picture of myself with an Ugly Sister filter on…he’s a great guinea pig for my homework.

Sometimes they will FaceTime you at the end of a long day at work (or in the middle!) just to chat about nothing in particular, that’s the time that’s best. That’s as good as those days when they just wanted to crawl up onto your lap for no particular reason.

But there are sometimes when they also provide you with material that’s nearly to a par with the stuff of their toddler years. The particular incident I am talking about being this conversation below. 

Clearly this one has a little bit to learn about some of the more mundane things of life and it beggars belief as to who the hell dragged him up and didn’t teach him to stick a stamp on, but it just goes to show that mothering just goes on, albeit a little more errrr…. interestingly.

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