What do you want for your kids? Success, happiness, good health etc, are all things that are top of the list. The dads may wish their son becomes a footballer or a golfer. The mums amongst us may wish their daughter becomes a dancer or a doctor (The chavs amongst us want them to be a WAG!). These aspirations are generally a flitting fantasy based on our own childhood wishes and realistically we just want the basics. We put a strong onus on them being good people with a good work ethic and to have a good character with good moral fibre and good manners. We just want them to be good! We are there to nurture their interests, guide them through the good and bad times and hope they leave with enough social nous to make their way in the big wide world. There will be slip-ups along the way, that is a given, parenting being the prime example. I have certainly made my fair share of faux-pas during my almost 5 years as the owner of a boy!
"5 year old female, fallen, bleeding from face"
It was a gorgeous summer evening, the kind of evening where all you can think about is being sat in the garden, a BBQ, a jug of Pimms, some music and the company of friends. There was the smell of burning charcoal in the air and the thought of sizzling meat and a token potato salad was frustrating and making me drool. Why? Because I was 4 hours into a 12 hour shift in an ambulance with no air-con and my lunch bag only housed a soggy tuna sandwich and a warm bottle of water. Yes, before you ask, I AM living the dream. The 'bleeding from face' appeared on our MDT and was met with all the enthusiasm you could expect. We now had a choice; drive 4 miles with windows open and risk losing our sense of hearing or drive 4 miles with the windows closed and risk melting to death. We opted for the former! Needless to say, 4 miles later we wandered towards the front door of our patient's house with a severe ringing in our ears.
As we approached the door we could hear the crying. All kids have their very own set of cries. There is the hunger cry, the pain cry, the tantrum cry, the ill cry, the fake cry, the overtired cry and the 'give me what I bloody want' cry. We all know them and deal with them in different ways. I could tell, as we were walking up the path, this was a pain cry. When our kids are in pain, what do we do? Comfort them, reassure them, play down what has happened: 'it's not that bad', 'shall I kiss it better?', 'you're being so brave' etc. It is natural; we will do anything and tell them any lie we can, just to make them feel better. It's called parenting.
"Hello there, what's happened today?"
"She slipped on da wet floor gettin' out of da barf and smashed her face on the floor, oh my god, there is blood EVERYWHERE"
She ushered me into the little girl's bedroom but before I could say anything she had time to quickly berate her for mucking around at bath time.
"It's OK, it doesn't matter, have you hurt yourself?" I asked the girl as I knelt down.
Before she could answer through the tears, mum interjected:
"Oh my god, it's really deep, it won't stop bleeding, oh my god, she's gonna need stitches and EVERYFING. It looks awful"
No wonder she was crying, poor little thing. I tried my best to assure her that it was OK and I was just going to have a look. The mum butted in again:
"Oh my days, her face is gonna be fucked up, she's gonna have a scar, she can't have stitches on her face, oh my days!"
Just out of interest, what exactly are you imagining here? A large cut across the forehead bleeding profusely? A fat lip and a nasty gash somewhere on the face? How about if I said it was a 3mm cut underneath the chin, not remotely visible if you were looking at her! Yes... I know. Why the drama?!
"It's not that bad at all, it's not even bleeding now, it won't need stitches and probably won't even need glue." I conciliate.
"It needs glue, it has to be glued, I can't risk a scar, tell 'em it has to be glued."
"The hospital will decide but it is so small and under her chin they probably won't bother to be honest." I continue.
"Nah, I ain't 'avin that, they 'av to glue it, I want her to be a model, I can't have her havin' a scar or a fucked up face, no way, she's gonna be a model, I ain't 'avin her let me down cause of a scar."
You can imagine what was going through the little girl's head and why she had a totally rational fear of me. She was crying, waiting for an ambulance to come and take her away. Take her away because her face 'looked awful', it was bleeding everywhere, there was going to needles and stitches, she was going to have a scar and if she failed at becoming a model her mum was giving off the impression she would love her less! THIS is not parenting. This is madness & I had to tell the mother that she was scaring her child for no reason. I spent a few minutes chatting to the kid, convincing her there would be no needles or stitches and a nurse was just going to look at it and probably give her a sticker for being so brave!
"Will I be able to go to school tomorrow?"
"Of course you will! What are you doing at school tomorrow? Anything fun?"
"I'm doing a dance in assembly and then there is a cake sale." she said with a grin.
Cue mum...
"But I've told you that you can't eat cake or you'll get fat. Also we don't know the hygiene in other people's kitchens, it could be minging"
Cue despair...
I have clearly led a sheltered life up until now. Obviously you see pushy parents on TV, but weight conscious 5 year olds? Mums obsessed with living their own fantasy through their kid's short childhood? Doesn't that only happen in American pageants? I really don't know what distressed me more, her inability to make her child feel better when distressed or her unhealthy obsession with her daughter's future. I just wanted to scream 'LET HER BE A KID'! Success? Happiness? Good health? They certainly appeared so far down on the list of priorities in this household. Aspirations of grandure are never healthy and the pressure and expectations can ruin a childhood. The 'ambulance' in me wanted to tell her off about inappropriate use of the service. Kids fall over, they get bumps, they get bruises, they get up, they cry, you kiss, you feed, they smile. Simple. The parent in me wanted to tell her to calm down, comfort, kiss and hug her daughter, stop frightening her and make everything better. The foodie in me wanted to say 'just let her eat some bloody cake'! Instead, I kept schtum, blew up a rubber glove and made it look like an elephant.
Cue the smile...