The Mummy Diaries – Lily bites back!

The Mummy Diaries – Lily bites back!

by Emma Hargan
article from Saturday 12, September, 2020

I DON’T KNOW about the rest of you but after the first week back at playschool last week, I was exhausted, never mind the kids! 

I don’t know if it was the walks up and down the road twice a day, or if it was the worry that Jamie was going to settle back in okay – or maybe it was the fact it was past 9.00pm every night before I actually got sat down after sorting clothes and making lunches?

Or maybe it was the anticipation of us all catching Covid when halfway through the week, Lily and I went to collect Jamie from playschool and while I was helping him put his jacket on, he sneezed right into my eyeball?

But it had been a new week! And apart from feeling tired, I feel relieved and more settled now that we have all seemed to accept this new reality we are living in and make it work. So, by Friday evening, after the kids were asleep and I had literally swept the toys under the sofas or thrown into the cupboard, I sat down to enjoy a lovely glass of grapes. And let me tell you, it tasted better than ever before!

I rattled through the billion channels on Sky, only to end up watching The Three Day Nanny – which after watching always makes me feel like I’m a good mummy knowing what some people go through! I was sitting smug at the thought of how well the week had gone and how I was worrying over nothing – but I did wonder while I was glugging down my grape juice, maybe it was all going too well? What fresh hell looms?

And I didn’t have to wait too long to find out…

Monday morning started with the usual scramble at the front door to get to playschool. Is it just me or does all the prepping lunches and getting clothes organised the night before seem like a total waste of time? I mean, it doesn’t matter how much prepping I do, the little half-lings always seem to do some messing about when I utter those words, “Right, time to go guys!” And then it starts.

“Mummy, my zip is stuck.”

“Mummy, I can’t find my shoe.”

“Mummy, I don’t want raisins in my lunch bag”

“Mummy, I need a drink of juice.”

And then just as you have contained the situation, everyone’s jackets, bags and shoes on..

“Mummy, I need a wee.”

Fox ache.

Then we have the walk up to play school, still with the soundtrack to Queen by Lily (all learned from repeatedly watching Live Aid 1985), but she’s moved on to a different song and, of course, at a glacial pace. Still only the one line.

“We are the Champions!”

“We are the Champions!”

“We are the Champions!”

I was almost on the verge of throwing myself in front of the next bus that passed by when,

“Lily be quiet, I’m going mad!” Roars Jamie.

I almost burst out laughing when Lily replies, “Shut up Jamie, Lily speaking!”

Then Jamie starts to sing the Alphabet Song at the top of his lungs in order to drown Lily out.

“Right both of you be quiet.” I said. “Let’s see how many lorries we can count on the way.” I said as a hopeful distraction.

“No Mummy!” Shouts Lily, “That’s rubbish!”

“Right then.” I replied. That was me put in my place. I was never so glad to see the play school. 

On arrival, we were greeted as usual by the staff where Jamie tells everyone that Lily is annoying. Lily was on a slow boil I think from this point on. That’s the thing with kids, they don’t forget.

After four hours, it was time to collect Jamie. Usually when I say to Lily it’s time to go and collect her brother, she can’t wait to get out the door. Not that day.

“No Mummy, just leave Jamie today”, Lily pipes up.

“We can’t leave him! Oh come on, I bet he’s missed you?”, I said.

Lily whinged and moaned all the way up the road. It was slightly better than We Are The Champions on re-run!

Unfortunately, the trip home wasn’t much better. Lily and Jamie spent the whole walk home bickering over, well – everything. 

“The wheels on the bus go round and round!” sings Jamie

“No Jamie!” Roars Lily. “Mama, just killed..”

“Ssssh!!” Interrupts Jamie, “No more Queen, Queen’s rubbish!”

At this point Lily was turning purple. She was furious and stormed home in silence, with Jamie beaming at the fact she had admitted defeat by his bossiness. Or, so it seemed.

When we got home, I managed to diffuse the atmosphere with the only thing that distracts Jamie and Lily from anything – food!  Needless to say, once they were done eating, all hell broke loose again and World War III commenced. Over a pair of wellies. And not just any wellies, Lily’s the Peppa Pig wellies. I was just on the brink of losing it altogether and grab a double decker out of the cupboard when Jamie lobbed a wellie at Lily.

“Here! Have it!” He screamed while ricocheting the boot across the room. It hit Lily in the side of the head.

You know that moment when a kid gets hurt and there’s that silence? You know, the silence that comes before the horrendous shrieking?

I watched Lily rise-up and stare at Jamie with daggers. Jamie walked over, bent down and went to lift the wellie up. It was like a scene out of Jaws, she just clamped down on Jamie’s bum.

“AAAAAAAAAAGH!” cries Jamie.

“LILY NO!” I yelled.

Lily got that much of a fright, she jumped and started to cry. Jamie was still crying and rubbing at his backside (posh word for arse – Ed.).

“Mummy, Lily bit me!” he said.

“Yes, I know. Lily you don’t EVER bite, it’s very naughty.” I said sternly (or words to that affect).

“Sorry Mummy.” Lily sobbed.

“Say sorry to Jamie.” I said. 

“Sorry Jamie.” She said.

“Ok Lil.” Jamie replied.

Now, I’d like to be able to tell you that from that moment on, they settled their differences and we all had a nice afternoon. But no. After refereeing yet another disagreement over watching Peppa Pig or Minions while trying to put dishes away and fold washing, the doorbell rings. Lily races to the front door, while I look for the keys. Thankfully! A distraction! I opened the door and it’s some DPD delivery guy with a parcel.

“Hello little lady.” He says to Lily. “Is this for you?”

Lily smiles and goes to take the parcel. The next minute, Jamie comes racing up the hall with a pair of pants on his head. My pants, for that matter.

“Mummy’s pants!” Jamie says laughing.


“Err, that’s nice.” The delivery guy says while walking away.

(It could have been worse I suppose, at least he didn’t say “knickers”!)

I pulled the kids back and slammed the front door, shamed by my four-year-old.

The moral of the story? The bottom line? (No pun intended.) Always try to let the kids settle their own disputes as much as possible or it will come back to bite you in the ass! (Pun intended!) 

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