sometimes it is not the kids who cause the most trouble...

One of the key aspects of parenting, they say, is to learn from your mistakes. So given an episode from last year, which I even wrote a post about called making your life easier, you would have thought that I would not be making the same mistake again. Dear reader, you would be mistaken.

The story then. It has been hot here. Really pretty hot especially for us Brits who are used to one day of sunshine per year when it might possibly, just maybe, get over 80F / 27C and then we all complain about it for the rest of the year. It has been approaching 100F (that is 38C for the more metric minded amongst you) every day for the past week. The hose has been out in the garden, we have been swimming in the lakes and we are doing everything possible to cool down. Which is why, when Dave suggested that we go get some water pistols I foolishly forgot last years experience and acquiesced.

Adam and I ventured forth, avoided the strikes that are currently gridlocking the traffic in Tuzla, and found 4 water pistols that look like sharks and shoot water miles. We rushed home and I left them to it. For a happy half an hour I could hear shrieks of laughter, the occasional squawk as someone had obviously been hit, and the sounds of taps running. Dave, out there and orchestrating the fun and games, was organising the filling up of buckets of water and helping them re-fill their guns. I embarked on a momentary and unusual domestic goddess moment and got on with such things as marinading chicken, making banana pud for dinner and even cleaning the bathroom.

Eventually I couldn't resist it and popped out to join them. They were wet, but not excessively so. I got blasted pretty quickly, but found a gun and hid behind the car. Years of experience has taught me that my husband is the one to watch in these situations, so I crept towards him planning an ambush. Luke, spotting my ploy, alerted his father (oh traitorous child). I was distracted for one moment. One precious moment. And found myself underneath a bucket of water.

Dave claims he thought I knew he had the bucket and would be watching for him to do it. He also says it was self defence as I was about to attack (with the smallest water pistol of all). He also laughed a lot. Dripping wet, I did the only thing I could. Got hold of the nearest bucket and let loose.

The boys watched eyes as wide as saucers. This, they thought, is a good game. This is how to do it. Look at Mummy go. She can really throw water a long way when she wants to.

And so the fun continued. Obviously there were the occcasional wail as someone got a little too wet, but we did have a lovely time.

As I dropped them off in nursery this morning Adam asked if we could play the water game again this afternoon. I think the key for me now is going to be limiting the throwing around of water to that which comes out of waterpistols, and to reinforce the golden rule of 'not inside the house!'

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On a different note - June 15 - 21st is refugee week in the UK and the Red Cross has launched a campaign to encourage people to look beyond the label of 'refugee'. The blog Amila Bosnae has a really nice post on this which includes a video from a woman who had to flee Bosnia as a child in 1995. I really recommend that you read both the post and watch the video and help support the campaign.

making your life easier

I'm a huge fan of making my life easier. Granted that as a mother of two toddlers it is never going to be a long leisurely coffee whilst reading the papers kind of easier, but even so there are things that can be done to promote a more harmonious, less stressful existence. All toys that require a battery or make a noise are discretely 'lost' for example, as are any toys that repeat a ditty over and over again. I buy 2 of most things, always in the same colour which may not actively promote sharing but does save me from the ridiculous battles over who is going to drink out of the red beaker.

Given the mantra above, why oh why did I take such leave of my senses today? It was foolish, it was stupid, it was such a basic, fundamental error of such catastrophic proportions that I'm still shuddering to think of it. This could take me years to get over. For some reason, a complete personality transplant must have come over me and I voluntarily gave the boys some water pistols.

I don't need to describe the scenes that followed. Best a pretty flowered veil is drawn over them and soothing music played. But if you are imagining a moment with 2 toddlers scarpering in different directions screeching with excitement followed by a screaming banshee howling "water pistols are for outside" then you are not too far from the truth.