I Hate Everything.

So as I ponder what might be a fun activity to pass the many hours until bed time I am reminded of how much I hate activities. These are a few of the many things that I have the displeasure of doing quite frequently:

I hate Parks.

I cannot remember a time young or old that I enjoyed parks, they seem to be an area containing an inexplicable number of climbing apparatus designed to both entertain your children and very likely damage them. I swear half the ‘play things’ found in our local parks have been designed by people who hate parents and they just keep getting higher and faster as though there is any actual need for this. I know that I sound like a grumpy mumma who hates the idea of fun but actually I am just a chronic worrier which is undeniably worse. Then there are the things that really shouldn’t be in the park such as dog shit, smoking swearing teenagers, and often the very distinctive smell of weed so if we combine the antisocial behaviour and the risk of death I like to avoid parks where I can but unfortunately with two children I cannot. Bravo.

I Hate Soft Play.

Probably one of the worst ‘child friendly’ activities for the attentive parent, these places breed the notice that as long as your child is okay on their feet and they are passed a certain age (massively variable from parent to parent) it is totally acceptable to have a cuppa and stare at your phone for two hours. I also begrudge paying for my son (when taking my daughter) who is under a year old when he is confined to the smallest area of mat with a few balls and soft toys, the real issue I have with this is simply that I have to police this area for it to be safe because all those big children who cannot read the sign saying ‘babies only’ jump through it knocking over all the little ones, whilst their parents are still sipping that cold coffee and checking out what Susan did over the weekend. And breathe. Also who cleans that place? How do they clean that place? They are normally not very well ventilated and full to the rafters of children sweating like they are in a night club; I have found old socks, plasters, bits of tissue in these places. Also like if those points were not nearly enough to have to deal with let’s talk about colds, these areas of play must be a haven for germs and with the lack of possible ways to clean an establishment that has 15 ball pits in I very much doubt the child with the snotty nose and the cough is keeping himself to himself.

I Hate the Swimming Pool.

Now swimming pools are not that bad, they are clean (regardless of the amount of child piss that must be released) they are well manned by people ready to save your life and very often the baby friendly area is lovely and heated but if like me you are still carrying some baby weight mixed with some emotional weight and a good serving of exhaustion weight you might wish to avoid them anyway. There is nothing that feels me with anxiety like the idea of getting down to even a one-piece for all those people (who are not actually watching) to see, it is not just the extra padding that has found its way onto my arse, my thighs, my arms, well let’s just say everywhere it’s those unwelcome fucking friends it has also brought like Mr Cellulite and Mr Stretch-Marks (they are Mr’s for obvious reasons). Consider the time it takes just shaving for such a catastrophic event, especially when that time isn’t given freely by your baby. If like me you are also scared of the hairdressers you will know the very real threats of having people see you with wet hair, it feels me with horror that a women being paid to sort the birds nest I call my hair has to see it let alone people just heading out for some leisurely fun.

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Won’t Somebody Think Of The Children

When raising the tiny little humans that can quite honestly drive you to the brink of insanity at least 3 times a day it is easy to forget the huge affect that external influences have upon moulding them into the adult they become. Often we cannot control the impact that others have on them, on their attitudes, on their success and on their failings but there are very important people that don’t get the credit that they deserve when it comes to the raising of our children, their teachers. I understand that a teacher is never constant but with any good, loving teacher their aim certainly is and its to nourish the mind. I was shocked when Millie became such a wiz with numbers and equally devastated when she told me she doesn’t like literacy but with the help of a fabulous teacher she can excel in the subject she loves whilst reaching the massively important milestones in the subject she hates.

I have no predetermined plan for my children, although if they can become millionaires that would be preferable, I just want them to succeed in what they love and do the absolute best that they can. When you ask those who have gone on to obtain higher education, to maybe teach themselves who have been the great influences in their lives many will sight their favourite teachers, and many of those will be the teachers that had accrued so much knowledge in their lifetimes that they truly grabbed and guided the minds of others.

The reason that I am writing this is with an agenda, my sister is one such teacher, she has taken children and helped mould them into what they want to become, she has helped children through gruelling GCSEs, she has received the wonderful letters from them and their parents. My sister is doing the last year of her masters and is on the edge of leaving due to funding and so I am imploring you to please give, give lots, give a little, give only what you can because my sister is the teacher I want my children to know, the fiercely knowledgeable guide that they deserve.

We give our children so trustingly into the hands of teachers and we hope that they will assist them on the journey of life and help them find the callings that maybe we will miss. Please give and please share.

https://www.justgiving.com/crowdfunding/rebecca-goozee