1. I call everybody by four names (at least).
Nina. Andrew. Lorna. Sam.
This is how I now address my children (and our dog). I run through a rake of names before I fall onto the correct one. If you have one child, you may think it impossible that you will ever forget your darling offspring’s name. Have more kids. You will.
The more panicked or stressed the name-calling is, the more names you run through. A “C’mere and finish your dinner” may only have two names. A “stop doing that to your sister! You’re squashing her head!” will have far more until the correct one is roared.
2. I eat. Fast.
I once used to savour the joyous explosion of carefully chosen flavours on the tastebuds of my tongue. What would a touch of mustard seeds do to my delicate green curry paste? Would three scotch bonnets add fire or sweetness to my jerk chicken?
Such luxuries are gone. Now, my culinary questions are down to one: can my kids see me? The twins want whatever I have. They’re in that curious stage, where they don’t care what I’m eating, they want it in their mouths. This means they claw at my knees, pointing and shouting, “That! That! That!”, until I give them something. The boys are a touch more sophisticated.
They will sit beside me. They will snuggle into me. They will tell that they love me. And then, when my back is turned for a split second, they will steal whatever meagre morsel is on my plate and hide under the stairs, chewing furiously.
3. I leave the house like a Navy Seal.
Go! Go! Go! You know those action movies, where they’re jumping out of a plane into hostile territory under the cover of night?
Well, getting four kids into a car requires more planning, expensive equipment and sheer courage than any of those operations. As soon as I even hint at going out, the crying starts. “I don’t have any shoes on!” “I have the wrong shoes on!” “He took my hat!” This only further fuels my belief that I should go out. It’ll be good to distract them. I’ll get them ready. Shoes, hats, scarves, jackets. Right, let’s go. Wait. Where’s Sam? “He went upstairs, Dad.” “Sam, what are you doing?” “Jigsaws, Daddy!” Jesus. “Come on down. We’re going.” “But I don’t want to goooooo! I wanna do Paw Patrol jigsaws!” The herding required is incredible.
You will start to understand the shouts and whistles of those guys on One Man and his Dog! “Come by, Jess! Slooowwww! Yip! Stitch! Jip! Jip!”
4. I welcome play dates.
Adding more kids seems like a terrible idea. Then, you try it. Say, for example, my friend has a boy in the same class as my eldest and a daughter the same age as the second fella. Come on over! The older ones just disappear.
Up to a bedroom or out the back. The next guy suddenly develops an interest in dolls and Doctors and Nurses and Frozen, as he tries desperately to impress the strong, independent girl who has just invaded his space. This means I only have the little ones to worry about. And it’s their nap time. Stick the kettle on and catch up with some gossip, I mean, talk football, like big men.
Yeah! Bliss.
Join the conversation on Twitter @HerFamilydotie
