New levels of sibling rivalry

Just like many other mothers out there, I am aware that there appears to be some kind of divide between my middle boy and my youngest daughter.

I initially thought that divide may just be to do with the 22 months between them. Having sought advice from countless books and online "experts" I concluded that said divide was more to do with middle child envy of a newcomer to the family, and that they will "grow out of it."

Seven years later, after countless ups and downs, I feel I may have to reject my initial hypothesis.

Although my theory was based on a huge body of evidence supporting the proposition, I have finally conceded that this may have been, at the very least, an optimistic viewpoint.

It's funny. How evidence can be staring you right in the face for all that time. Until it does, one day, literally stare you in the face.

Ex Mr G and I were queuing up to say goodbye to middle son's teacher. It was mainly for show, as middle son is moving to a different school, but youngest daughter will still be at the same school. We will still see middle son's teacher. Daily. Bit of a shame as I think he's a prick. But we still queued up anyway to say our thanks and goodbyes.

As I was languorously leaning against the wall outside the classroom (this sounds sexy, but really isn't) waiting for our turn to say heartfelt "goodbyes" to Mr Prick, I noticed the pin board I was propping myself up on. It appealed to me in a Save the Children kind of Comic Relief "charity" way, as the big handwritten bubble font sign said: "The Diary of a Refugee."

I thought I may start to read the different entries. Languorously. To match my pose.

Then I saw the blu-tacked entry, stuck on the wall, written by middle son. I knew immediately it was his work due to:

a) the appalling spelling
b) the terrible grammar
c) the fact he had dogs and a sister called Gracie.
d) his name was at the top of the piece of paper

At that moment, I knew. Those books I read? They know NOTHING. My son just FICTIONED OUT his sister.

We have A LOT of work to do.

I just can't cope with another school sports day EVER AGAIN

I have just had the dubious honour of attending my ELEVENTH annual school sports day.
I am seriously expecting some kind of award to be handed out to me for long term service.

To put it quite frankly: I am bored of it.

The process never changes. Why would it? The school have this one NAILED DOWN. They won't be changing the format for anyone. Not even the mum sat at the back on the chairs who didn't look up once from her book. (That was not me btw, although I did look on enviously from behind my sunglasses.)

I explained my Sports Day issues to the children in the car one morning:

Kid 1: "Are you coming to sports day?"
Notquitesupermom: *big sigh* "Do I really have to?"
Kid 1 & Kid; 2: "YESSSSSSS."
Notquitesupermom: "no offence or anything kids, but if you aren't actually doing anything in it, then sports day is pretty boring to watch. If I wanted to watch you bounce a ball up to a plastic bucket, put the ball in the bucket then run back to a line, I could have set that up in the garden ANYTIME during the past years. And then I could have watched while drinking a glass of wine lying on the sunlounger."

My major problem with sports day is that my children go to a lovely, non competitive school. Sports day is divided into very PC and non discriminatory teams based on age. It's all about the team work.

It's soooo BORING.

I want to see proper competition. I want to know EXACTLY how rubbish my kids are, or alternatively, like I said to the ex MR G: "We could potentially have a Usain Bolt on our hands, but we will NEVER EVER KNOW as the children have never been allowed to compete with each other."

How well my children can run in a straight line or throw a bean bag into a hoop, is never going to make a difference to how much I love them, or how amazing they are. But GODDAMMIT I want some sort of gauge of their sporting prowess. Just so I KNOW.

There is also no DANGER. I remember school sports days when you would get red grazed knees from the sack race, skipping ropes would get tied together in a "never to be unravelled again" web of knots where you could potentially take your competitor down with a good strong tug. Ankles would be tied together and arms tied behind backs in the three legged race. The threat of face planting was always prevalent and you quickly worked out to work together as a team to avoid that happening in front of the entire school. As we got older we started to have hurdles, which are DESIGNED to trip you up and actual javelins that could ACTUALLY impale someone if misthrown.

At sports day now the children throw foam swords. They aren't the most aerodynamic of items. It's like the biggest let down ever to see the kids all geared up to throw them, javelin throwing stance perfected during weeks of PE lessons, and upon release they just PLOP down to the ground about a foot away from the thrower. I'm normally praying for a freak gust of wind, just to add a bit of oomph to the whole event.

There is not even the opportunity for potential humiliation to be used as a motivational tool for self improvement as they are all in it together for the good of the team. There is no obnoxious little shit bursting into tears because they ALWAYS win and this year they didn't. I want to see the really competitive kids trying to elbow other kids out the way in their race to be the best at the running race. I want to see which child is a sneaky little cheating bastard and PICKS UP the egg with their fingers rather than putting it onto the spoon using the side of their foot and some nifty leg raising. We spent HOURS perfecting this skill during PE. I'm still rather good at it.

These days, it's just dull. And I still have to sit on teeny tiny seats that can barely fit one arse cheek on, in the heat, pretending I care that some other person's kid can run while holding a ball because they are on my kids team.

Might take a book next year!



Egg and Spoon Champion 1986