I loved living in the UK. I was 19 when I got there and for the next ten years I loved most of my time there. I made awesome friends, traveled, learnt some invaluable life lessons, met my future-husband, lots of good things happened. And then some not so good things. And then we left. Continue reading “Why I'm Glad We Left The UK”
I do. I yell at my kids.
It’s like they don’t respond unless I yell. I can ask them nicely twenty times. Then I can’t take it anymore and I yell!
Today, they were ignoring me! We were in the car. It’s not like they couldn’t hear my speaking to them in a normal, calm, sane tone of voice.
Eventually things escalated, they started slapping each other. Someone cried. I was trying not to knock the guy on the wobbly bike over whilst also staying clear of the speeding taxi hurtling towards us!
So I lost my cool.
I yelled so loud I got an instant headache. By the end of my yell it was more of a hysterical scream.
They look at me like I have completely lost my mind and forever crushed their spirit.
Who is this crazy woman? Why can’t she just ask us nicely. We were only playing! No one died!
Fortunately we were already in the car so no one could hear my hysterical yelling. No one to judge me.
Living in a town house I’m pretty sure our neighbours hear a lot of yelling and must assume I’m a bad mom. Maybe I am.
Then again maybe the kids are deaf. Maybe they should just listen to me when I ask nicely and not leave it until I’ve completely lost my sh*t!
It’s the first day of a 10 day school holiday here in SA and I’m already having a break down. Thank goodness daddy will be home to help over the weekend. How come he only has to raise his voice slightly and they scamper to obey!?! Why?
Next stop, the wine shop!