As a mother and with Mother's Day looming, and before I pat myself on the back too hard, best I digest these words:-
Where I have failed:-
Water on the bathroom floor
What is it about my boys and baths and showers and water on the bathroom floor? Then I remembered. I remembered back to Parry Road days when they were still small enough to bath together. I remember how it was my half hour (maybe an hour) to cook in peace while they filled the bath to the brim, used Shipmate bubbles, huge medical syringes and played until they were shivering and wrinkled. I remembered the shouts to me of "Towel for Raoul" - There were never towels in the bathroom as they got splashed and squirted upon and everyday they had to be hung out to dry or be washed or both. So by the time I got to the bathroom with the towels, one, two or maybe even three of them had jumped out and were running down the passage leaving footprints and bubbles on the carpet.
They still love to bath (but not together). To fill the bath to the brim and splash about. Bathing and flooding I can half understand (the last time I bathed about 4 years ago, I also flooded the bathroom but that was because I don't do it very often and I never quite understood Archimedes and his Displacement Principle (and I probably think I am a whole lot slimmer than I actually am (is there an opposite to anorexia?)). However, how do you flood a bathroom after a shower? How do you, at the ages of 26, 28 and 30, still leave footprint puddles all the way to your bedroom? I should by now have realised that a towel to them is an object used to hide your private parts from your mother.
No cap on the toothpaste
Taps not turned off properly
Not re-filling the water bottles and putting them back in the fridge
Using the bread knife to butter your bread
Leaving cupboard doors open (with the object to hide your winkie hanging over the door)
Small things I know and things that I have stopped moaning about. Things that I thought they would maybe grow out of (especially once they have their own homes). Small things but things that I am sure one day their partners are going to point fingers at me about.
I am not going to let this spoil my Mother's Day and who the hell is Ann Landers anyway?