Stand next to them in public.

Drop them off near enough to school so they can be seen getting out of your uncool car.

Phone them when they are with their mates.

Pick them up from parties, youth clubs or sports activities.

Call them love, darling, baby or your pet family name for them.

Show affection to your partner while they are around.

Ask them for a hug.

Give them a hug.

Tell them to kiss their grandmother.

Borrow their clothes.

Remind them to do their homework in front of their friends.

Return from an evening out in your best gear and make up, while their friends are round.

Answer the phone to their mates.

Cry.

Ask them about boyfriends or girlfriends.

Suggest appropriate face creams that dry out the skin.

Talk about the subject of sex, sexual activity and protection.

Dance at family parties.

Leave something red or blue in a whites wash.

Attend school open evenings where every teenager present keeps their head down as they are all squirming with embarrassment at having to (a) stand by their parents, (b)arrive with their parents, (c)show they are related to said parents and (d) give parents a glimpse of the school alter ego that their teacher knows.

I can understand that schools need to teach this, but self conscious children are unlikely to ask questions unless it is of the showing off and getting the class to giggle variety, and can come away with some confused ideas.

When I was told about the birds and the bees at school I completely missed the point and came away with the idea that as boys called girls birds, we should call them bees.

‘Use a condom, it will protect you’ got mixed up in Timmy’s head with Harry Potter type films so he was amazed in sex education lessons to learn what a condom was really for. ‘I thought it was a magic shield or something,’ he said. Still, before the lesson, a girl at his school thought ‘wear a condom’ meant women wore them on their boobs.

Listening to Timmy and his friends giggling about it later, it was apparent that the lesson had not completely sunk in.

‘So if you touch your willy to a girl’s you-know-what and shoot the seed at it, why do you need a condom when you can just not shoot her till you both want a baby?’

‘In case they accidentally touch, like in swimming pool or when they are sleeping in bed and their pyjamas accidentally slip down, stupid! ‘

A good case for sex education but we can’t be certain what image a child will come away with !

I found this quote about a visit to the seaside. Doing something that was really nothing. However it was the nothingness that made it a great afternoon out. It’s a quote which completely sums up the majority of family life. Domestic routine, board games, walks to school, little family rituals seem boring or irrelevant at times but one day they will be fond childhood memories of our children, just as our reminiscences are all about the mundane rituals that made up our childhood.

I cannot believe we are hurtling towards the end of February and how little time there seems to be to fit everything into . It’s like trying to pack a weeks holiday stuff for a family of four into a medium suitcase for one.

All the stuff I hope to do just won’t squeeze in and so I’m forever having to carry it over to the next day and add it to the list already there. If it gets done then, then other stuff gets carried over, and so on.

I feel as though I am forever racing but never winning, and I know I am not the only one. Women are amongst the most time poor especially if they have children and are working, even more so if they are also single

In the UK full-time workers work longer hours than the rest of Europe and get less holidays. No wonder we’re all shattered.

Children’s care, time attention, school meetings, feeding and shopping can’t be skipped, work has to be done, as does housework, paying bills, home maintenance, commuting, travel time and then seeing friends and family and all the other things that arise that take extra time. I

’m ranting but I don’t have an answer.

Following on from 2nd Feb, bras made me think of boobs and what a huge subject they are. It’s not just the palava of measuring up to get one that fits properly and they way they grow whenever weight is added, so that many women with really big boobs are chubby, but then their boobs are saggy and have to be bundled into giant hammock like bras, or scaffolding in white, beige or black and serviceable rather than pretty, just to ensure that their self esteem plummets along with their boobs.

To breast feed or not to breast feed is a minefield of guilt for those that really don’t like the idea, can’t get their baby to get to grips with it, or find it just doesn’t work. New mums obviously want to do the best for their baby so if their choice is not to, then that is the best for both the baby and mum, whatever the experts say. Heaping piles of guilt on the head of a new mum so that her confidence in her new mothering role is shaken, has got to be a lot worse than her choice not to breast feed.

The media, stars and men in general make such a hoo-ha about them that girls as young as fifteen are asking for boob jobs to make them feel attractive. Strange that In the same world women with breast cancer have to suffer the trauma of a masectomy and somehow regain their self confidence in the midst of all this bosom worship.

The shops (fashion, not greengrocers) are displaying underwear to entice men thinking of buying a valentine gift, who are brave enough to choose wisps of lacy nothingness while being served by giggling assistants or middle aged ladies that remind them of their mum.

The choice of knickers alone, is unbelievable although it is probably easier for a man because he just chooses sexy. However, unless he knows her exact size he will get it wrong. If he chooses something that is too big, she thinks he thinks she’s fat, too small and she knows they won’t fit, but won’t admit it so he thinks that she doesn’t like them.

Women have to choose from briefs, hi-leg, thongs, sexy, big knickers, French knickers or elasticated body shapers. Their knicker drawer needs to contain, best sexy knickers, every day knickers and body flattening or big knickers for those fat days.

The trouble is that (like the Bridget Jones film) it is often when wearing the biggest, oldest or saggiest knickers when you wish you were wearing the sexiest.

I wonder why we say a pair of knickers instead of a knicker – although we say knicker drawer? Yet we never refer to a pair of bras.

MUM’S VERSION.

Keeps a perfectly clean and tidy home.

Has neat, pristine children.

Serves healthy nutritious meals daily.

Reads a story every night to each child.

Helps with homework.

Grows her own vegetables.

Has fresh flowers in the house daily.

Watches favourite television programmes with their children and does not switch to the news.

Sews, knits and cooks perfectly.

Attends every single school event, belongs to the PTA and becomes a parent governor.

CHILD’S VERSION

Lets me choose my own clothes and shoes, knows its going to cost a bit, and doesn’t moan or make me choose a cheap version.

Listens to every problem with friends or school and comes up with amazingly wonderful solutions .

Takes me to theme parks or fun fairs once a week.

Is generous with pocket money.

Likes it when I’m stuck in watching television or playing the computer

Is not at all nosy, unless I want her to be.

Always looks fashionable and attractive, especially with me, in public.

Knows the latest chart songs and bands but disaproves enough to keep them interesting.

Is happy to give me a lift anywhere I want to go, at any time of day or evening.

Can’t cook so relies on take-aways and fast food bars.

Trying to be a good Mum is a minefield of confusion. Conflicting advice is fired from ‘experts, ‘ parenting magazines and the Government daily. Basically this means that I am not doing things that I should be doing or doing it too much, being too soft or too strict, allowing my children too much freedom or not enough and so on.

The whole subject is one that everyone else seems to know so much about. The most annoying advice comes from those who don’t actually have children in the first place, so they can keep their idealized view of what they would do, without having lived on call 24/7 with little cash and children who have their own personalities (quite rightly) and won’t just fall in with my ideas.

Family life is about love, communication, negotiation, anger, dramas, laughter and fun so it will never fit into some kind of ideal childhood format. I just wish someone would write something in praise of Mums and Dads, most of whom are doing a great job in a crazy world, rather than taking yet another pop and firing another label at ’single Mums’, ‘absentee Dads,’ ‘lazy,’ or ‘bad parents.’

We are advised to let our children have more freedom, while keeping them safely at home where we can keep an eye on them.

We are told to feed children healthily and encourage them to make healthy choices but there are still fizzy pop, chocolate machines and sweet selling tuck shops in schools. Manufacturers are allowed to duck and dive with the truth about the health and nutrition in their products and many schools still serve chips and breaded rubbish regularly. Even adults find it hard to resist temptation so why do we expect children to?

We are urged to spend more time with our children, while also being expected to work longer hours over seven days.

Most of us battle to instill a sense of self worth and pride in our children, whatever their skills and abilities, then we send them to school daily where they learn that only those who have the greatest academic skills and do best in tests, really matter.

We have an honest enough relationship to be able to teach our children sex education, but they know they can get advice and treatment without us knowing anything about it.

We seek to give our children the happiest possible childhood in a nation which created ASBOS to criminalise children, which preaches against binge drinking and then allows pubs and clubs to open all day and night; a nation that expects children to learn and be monitored from the age of 2; where the media message is that fame is everything and getting on a third rate, manipulative reality show is more important than earning an honest living doing something that you believe in; and where play comes second to achievement, road traffic, gadgets, designer labels and status toys created by the adult world.

21st Century Mum asks can someone please enlighten as to why you never ever see half dressed (undressed) men on the cover of gadget magazines? I can’t enlighten anyone but the whole topic depresses me. Just when I think equality is winning and sexist pigs are dead, something like this reminds me that I am living in la la land. Obviously the editors of these magazines think that gadgets will interest far more men than women, so they put images that they think will appeal to men on the front cover. The thing is women DO like gadgets but what woman wants to buy a mag with a half nude woman on the front? So woman don’t buy the magazine and the editors continue to think that women aren’t into gadgets. It’s just a shame that some of the men reading the magazine don’t ask for images that are a bit more relevant to the subject of the magazine, and why aren’t they annoyed that the editors are assuming that part of their brain is in their trousers?

The problem with tales whether from kids or well meaning (or even troublemaking) friends is that once they have told me I then have to take action or have a perfectly clear conscience when choosing not to take any action.

For example, one of the kids tells me the other has smashed a casserole dish. Well I’m not thrilled but accidents happen and I have my fair share, but if I am too casual when I say it doesn’t matter, does that then incite everyone in the household to be reckless with crockery? Will I have kids hurling plates merrily to each other across the kitchen with a ‘catch, Mum doesn’t mind’ CRASH! ‘Oops, oh well there’s three more in the cupboard,’ attitude for the rest of their childhood?

But, is it fair to respond when the news has come through a child telling tales rather than the culprit owning up? Especially as the tale was told almost immediately giving them no chance to wrestle with their conscience and do this. Will the casserole smasher feel that things are more unfair because I can’t say never mind at least you owned up, although I could say, well I know you would have owned up even though deep down I think they’d probably wrap it and pack it in a carrier and take it out to the dustbins and one day I’d be needing it and hunting the kitchen high and low and it would not turn up then, or ever and become one of life’s missing thing mystery’s. Whatever happens now I know I have to respond, and in a way which discourages both casserole smashing and tale telling. If nobody had told me, I wouldnt have the dilemma!

A friend keeps hinting she has some hot news about some mutual friends of ours, one of whom is having an affair with someone else we both know. She is desperate to engineer a moment away from kids and waggling ears so she can tell me and I am equally desperate not to know while at the same time being incredibly curious to know. The trouble is once I know I become a party to the information and then it is the conscience, action thing again. Would I want to know if it were me? How would i feel if I had a partner who was cheating and friends knew and never told me? All these questions spin around so if I don’t act I know I’ll be mortified with guilt and if I do act I could wreck their lives anyway. It’s far nicer to live in ignorant bliss with some unsatisfied curiousity than to cope with all this brain ache!

The trouble is once I know, I know and it can never be taken back and although I can pretend I don’t know, deep down I know, I know. Aaaaargh!