18 Apr 2008, Comments Off on Worst. parent. ever.

Worst. parent. ever.

Author: Helen

Last Friday, I had to attend one of those team bonding exercises for work, which meant that our manager took us all out to a slick CBD bowling alley and bar. I’m not much of a bowler but we all started on the snooker tables afterward, a game I do find absorbing. Like the pokies venues which dot this city, the place was artificially lit, noisy and had no clocks, so I ended up going over time and had to desperately phone around to get Boychild picked up from his after school care.
Image pinched from bestparentever.com

This after-school care centre, like most childcare places, has a drop dead deadline of six pm and they are forbidden to release the sprogs to walk home, even though Boychild lives only a block away and his sister would be home by then. Eventually I arranged for Girlchild to pick him up – but not before I’d had to speak to the after care staff a couple of times, yelling into a mobile from a noisy bar.

Choice!

Oh well, at least with modern smoking restrictions, it wasn’t a noisy smoky bar™.

It’s obvious that according to this grouse new parenting site I’ve found, I’ll never cut it. (Via John and Belle).

Bad parents everywhere, read it and feel empowerfulled.

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Comments (0)

  • Helen says:

    Sorry folks, I don’t know how comments got turned off – fixed now.

  • kate says:

    I was the last to be picked up from school after year seven camp. I waited with a girl who became my closest friend through high school. Her Mum was running the local church.

    My Mum was picking up a few bargins at a clothing outlet sale. If I bring it up she says “they only had sales once a year!”

  • Helen says:

    How could you argue with that one!

  • ThirdCat says:

    I love playing pool and snooker. I’m shit at it. But I love it. It’s worth being late for.

  • kris says:

    I used to accuse my parents of being ‘the second most old-fashioned parents’ of my class (the shame!); Sounds like you’ll avoid that accusation. It may be in years to come Boychild feels kind of proud of this story.

  • Oz Ozzie says:

    My mum just saw this over my shoulder. Her first instinct – That’s me – I’m the worst mum ever.

    So, speaking as an expert in my mum’s performance, I can tell you she’s not. But she thinks she is anyway.

    No hope for any of us.

    Oz

  • Lad Litter says:

    Picture this scene: 4yo (now 14) doing domestic role playing with two little plastic Muppet characters. One says to the other: “Eat your dinner. Eat your dinner. EAT YOUR BLOODY DINNER! Must have picked it up from that old Married With Chidren TV show.

  • Helen says:

    You see, they gain resilience and character from all the adversity. 😉

  • Ariel says:

    I’ve nearly been in that situation so many times. You know, ‘there but for the grace of god etc etc.’

    Something to make you feel better, from that same after care.

    I came to pick F up one afternoon and he wasn’t there. I stood there freaking out about where he might be and what might have happened to him. The carers shared my concern and looked a little green. Then: ‘Ohhhh’. I remembered that he’d gone to a friend’s that afternoon and I wasn’t supposed to be picking him up from after care at all. I was now late for the friend’s house. Left quite sheepishly, with the carers looking at me in disbelief.

    I couldn’t even REMEMBER where I’d left my child. Sigh.

  • Ariel says:

    PS. Great site! Very very funny.

  • Helen says:

    Ariel, I do that so often I didn’t even rate it for a mention. The reason they were looking at you weird was because they were thinking, “that’s the sort of thing that mum of Boychild’s would do”.

  • Bernice says:

    Friend when a child was left behind outside a service station on the NSW north coast during the family annual trip to Brissie. Accidently. Apparently it took the family some time to notice her absense & then turn back to collect. She insists she was quite used to it. I didn’t have the heart to ask quite what she meant by that.

  • dysthymiac says:

    Daughter-in-law tells me that her big Sydney law firm has In House childminding and one of the female partners went HOME one night without her baby.

    and Lad Litter, we’re onto you – that Married with Children woman never served them dinner, let alone urged them to eat it.

  • Ariel says:

    Helen, that does make me feel better. I guess the lesson is that we all do these things …

    Bernice, your friend’s story sounds just like the film Little Miss Sunshine!

  • Helen says:

    Daughter-in-law tells me that her big Sydney law firm has In House childminding and one of the female partners went HOME one night without her baby.

    Quick, somebody call the AnneMannebulance!

  • Helen says:

    Bernice, we did that with our dog when I was a child. Fortunately she was OK and not permanently scarred either.

  • blue milk says:

    Oh no! I recognise myself at that site.

  • […] Thanks to Blogger on the Cast Iron Balcony  for the link. She managed to embrace enough of the Slacker Mum ethos to side-step this cliche. I desperately need some of her credibility.   […]

  • Helen says:

    No, BM, the “rescue dog” post has us totally nailed.
    Interesting, because I would have expected the Best Parents to buy pedigreed dogs. We have a couple of DINK friends who insist on teh purebreds. Maybe they’re a DINK (double income no kids) thing.

  • kate says:

    Presumably the rescue dog thing happens when you’ve spent all your cash on a designer pram, so you want to make a virtue of the lack of cash spent on the Hound.

    Or you didn’t have the cash to spend on a designer pram or purebred hound and you want to refashion it as middle class enviro-virtue rather than suck up the status of charity recipient.

    A friend who bought the designer pram found herself with a daughter who at 12 months refused to go in it. They now get around with toddler on trike with push-along handle. Which is an example of how we all get our comeuppance when we try too hard.

  • Lad Litter says:

    No you’re right, Disthymiac. How about My Name’s McGooley, What’s Yours?

  • kris says:

    Helen and Kate, I would have thought there might have been an amalgam of the rescue dog + pedigree dog, e.g. the retired greyhound (pedigree and rescued from a life of cruelty and a horrible death + really gorgeous looking thus refining baby’s aesthetic sense) or failed seeing eye dog (pedigree + helping out the disabled … somehow); I’ve also seen a beagle recuse society and a labradoodle’ re-homing’ service.

    So there’s no need to make the hard decision between moral pet consumption and conspicuous consumption.

  • David says:

    Lad Litter, That wouldn’t be right either. I think “My Names’ McGooley …” was last on when _I_ was 14 (I’m 57 now).

  • Dysthymiac says:

    re “Picture this scene: 4yo (now 14) doing domestic role playing with two little plastic Muppet characters.
    One says to the other: “Eat your dinner. Eat your dinner. EAT YOUR BLOODY DINNER!

    Must have picked it up from that old Married With Chidren TV show.”

    Nope Lad Litter, not MWC or MNMWY either – only beer ever came out of poor Judi Farr’s frig. What a great show it was. Actor’s actors.

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