The Mum Network

I’m allergic to toddlers.

Lives in a world where his only friends are the magpies

Lives in a world where his only friends are the magpies

It doesn’t matter how many kids you have, trust me, toddlers never get any easier.

I read a bazillion Mummy Blogs on a daily basis and there’s constant themes of endless love, a desire to educate, careful thought put into food and nutrition where Mummy’s analyze the gross and fine motor skills of their toddlers to ensure they’re on track. I think I live in a parallel universe to most of them. I’m now up to my 5th toddler and I’m ready for a formal separation.


I don’t dare comment on the Mama blogs because these Blogging Mama Bears are obviously still in that false hormonal high where staying at home entertaining bored 2 year olds is still a novelty…………….or they’re lying.

I love my kids, really I do but if there were a boarding school for kids aged between 18 months and 4, I’d send them. Weekend visits at home and only when two adults are available to attend to their every need and desire because toddlers do actually need two adults supervising at all times.

I am fortunate that number 5 manages to knock himself out for a 4 hour sleep each day but that’s because between the hours of 7:30am and 11:00am he manages to:

  • Throw every single breakfast item he is given on the floor.
  • Take lid off bottle and drown floor in milk
  • Pull broom out of cupboard and attempt to clean up milk himself with broom.
  • Decide he is hungry again and fossicks around the rubbish bin for food only to discover last night’s dinner and helps himself.
  • Hides pieces of left over dinner in random places presumably saving it for ‘later’
  • Screams “Mum” for no apparent reason
  • Has a tantrum because all his friends are leaving for school
  • Has a tantrum because he’s not allowed out in the front yard to roam free and play with the magpies that are now his only friends.
  • Has another tantrum because he doesn’t want to watch Play School, he wants to watch the Wiggles but the stupid lady doesn’t understand that “GA DO GEE YA BO” means “I want the Wiggles”
  • Throws every cushion in the house on the floor
  • Empties sock bucket onto floor
  • Wipes snotty nose on Mum’s clothes, sofa’s and own hands.
  • Throw ipads onto the floor
  • Demands that iPhone be delivered to him on the couch, with milk thank you very much.
  • Decides every toy in the house is for losers and that tupperwear cupboard is far more interesting.
  • Works out that there’s fun glass stuff in the kitchen cupboards, makes a daily effort to smash at lease one vase or salad bowl per day.
  • Follows the lady to the toilet, doesn’t just watch, no has to get involved and pull all toilet paper off the wall and then tries to jump INTO the toilet whilst she’s sitting there.
  • Screams “Mum” for no apparent reason, again.
  • Decide Mum is boring so finds a pen and whilst she’s on the computer, draws in black biro all over her clothes.
  • Becomes petrified of the robot vacuum cleaner and makes the best effort yet to get back inside mum’s uterus.
  • Screams for food between 10am and 11am at 5 minute intervals.
Bring me my MILK

Bring me my MILK

Then we get to the language of WHINGE. My sister in law once told me that if you have a good baby, they’re likely to be a difficult toddler. It’s karma giving you a bit back after being so smug about your ‘perfect baby’. Never has a more true word been said (in my experience anyway).

Am fairly sure my kids learn from an early age that they can get whatever they want from me as long as they whinge for long enough and loud enough. I can’t stand it. Anything to stop the noise.  I’ve tried walking away, saying no, whinging back – nothing stops the whinge. It’s actually at fever pitch at the moment when Toddler 1 gets home from pre-school after convincing his teacher he’s far too old for a daytime sleep and therefore he’s tired, irritable and in no mood to fight toddler 2 for the title of “Best Whinger”. It’s like an epic choir of whinging from 4:30pm till 6:30pm and then guess what happens….The Big Guy gets home. I shoot him a filthy look as if it’s his fault for producing the whingers and they BECOME PERFECT LITTLE ANGELS with their “Dad Dad DADDY!” routine.

I give up. Don’t want to wish away the years but let’s just say it’ll be a pleasant day when my youngest turns 5.

Anyone else allergic to toddlers?


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