Raising Little Women.

I am a Mother of four daughters; a species so complex and explosive they must be treated sensitively and with due care and diligence to avoid unnecessary and unpleasant repercussions.  Now I’m not saying I’ve not and am not in control; I am totally in the driving seat as long as I keep my nerve.  It is keeping one’s nerve that can be difficult when in an escalating situation.  The trouble with females; particularly highly-strung one’s (I have three of these)is you never know when the ‘issue’ is coming or where from and you certainly don’t know why.  It’s simply not something you can legislate for. 

 

Parenting books written by experienced people often with letter’s after their name tell you to look out for ‘triggers’.  They extol the virtues of being vigilant to particular situations that tend to light the torch paper that inevitably lead to a dramatic explosion.  Apparently we could try starting a ‘tantrum’ diary?  Keep detailed accounts of food eaten, the weather, moon phase, have they emptied their bowels, drank enough water, etc. Well I can tell you with some confidence that no amount of logging, cataloguing or blogging can make you prepared for what I like to call the ‘shitwinds pour femme’ that blow hot and cold from the North, South, East and West, as and when. 

 

Nothing.  You are alone.  Standing in the firing line; no safe place to hide and forced to tip-toe through the landmines of a fledgling female’s unpredictability. Avoid public places, crowds, any place where there are things to purchase, mirrors, any extremes of heat, cold or unpredictable noise levels.  Never feed them anything brightly coloured, high in sugar and definitely no caffeine or alcohol.  Do not engage in their madness, simply turn around with your arms crossed; as you would train a puppy and let allow them to tire themselves out. 

 

When they are small and still cute you will manage them through gritted teeth.  Dealing with each and every mini-explosion with grit, grim strength and lots of expletives under your breath.  You’ll launch from love to hate within a millisecond as their little tick-tac teeth grin at you whilst big teary doe-eyes plead for your love.  Even after they’ve emptied a gallon of washing-up liquid over your kitchen floor and you beg God to ‘take you now’ suddenly your womb will ache and you’ll smile.  They’ll have learned ‘fuck all’ and the mistake will be repeated again; by you both.  But still ‘they’re so cute!’

 

As time passes you will learn that under no circumstances should you ‘take them on’.  Remember you know nothing, have no experience, were never young and have no idea of how they’re feeling.  Also remember that they know everything and that you are failing, each and everyday.  You are shit compared to any of their friend’s Mother’s.  Who are all infinitely fairer than you, more generous, easy going, kind, loving and understanding.

 

Beware that with each passing year your female will be taking on more and more hormonal influence and a highly unpleasant ‘angst’ which tends to cause a red face, sweaty smell, utter exhaustion and a near fanatical aversion to water.  This is often combined with spots, puppy fat, insolent and unattractive facial expressions, teeth braces, over-exuberant make-up and hair colouring/straightening misdemeanours.  During this period of time; which include the dreaded periods; pouring on the agony with plunging hormone levels and a desperation to be noticed by the opposite sex you will begin to despise you child; and be embarrassed and horribly disappointed by fruits of your womb.  This will continue to a greater or lesser degree until the early twenties when seemingly overnight they’ll transform into your best friend; utterly thankful for all you’ve done for them over the years. 

 

At this point you can relax.  Not before. 

 

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