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Parenting_-It-s-Just-Like-The-Devil-Wears-Prada

Parenting: It's Just Like The Devil Wears Prada

Am I the only one who watches The Devil Wears Prada and thinks that Anne Hathaway had it easy with Meryl Streep/Anna Wintour as a boss?

My kids are divas on a good day and provide me with their celebrity riders (which are subject to change post-preparation) several times a day. My 4-year-old asks for 'everything I like' for his lunch. I interpret that as cheese, ham, cucumber and pasta but it could be flung back, not meeting his culinary desires. I imagine this is what it’s like to work for Elton John.

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My mornings begin with a barrage of requests, 'Can I have your phone?' I need juice (a mixture of apple, orange and blackcurrant with two ice-cubes and a red straw). I have to bring something white into school!' I run laps of the house attending to everyone's needs aware that the clock is ticking and we can’t be late for school AGAIN. I’m also aware that if I try to rush anyone, things will take longer so I plaster a calm look on my face as my forehead beads sweat and I bite the urge to scream.

I use the time that they’re gone to brush my teeth, spray on some deodorant and have several cups of tea. I have plans to prep a fabulous dinner no one will eat but instead, binge watch something on Netflix (this week it's Mad Men). This is possibly my lunch break.
They arrive home and fling their school bags and jackets at me and the demands begin again. 'I'm starving... do you have those half-coated chocolate cookies I love? Get me a blanket... a red one! My leg hurts!' 

By the time my husband gets home from work, I’m a gibbering mess. 'They’ve broken me' I’ll often whisper, 'I need a hug and a timeout.'

We’ve all worked with guys like this, always sneaking out for a smoke and bad-mouthing the boss but infuriatingly manage to stay in the good graces by using flattery and buying pints on nights out. While he can’t yet buy the kids a pint, he does arrive home with Kinder Surprises and plays Xbox past bedtime with them.

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I’ve had outlandish requests for birthday/ Christmas presents that I’ve done my best to fulfil. I've emailed photos to the Beano twice so the kids might appear; I’ve sent private messages to Dan TDM (The Diamond Minecart if you’re interested ) to attend Minevention; I’ve trawled eBay for a Harry Potter rotating time -turner that actually turns back time (eventually located on Etsy but unfortunately no Marty McFly extras). 

Like Andy, when I eventually produce the desired object, I’m often met with an icy stare and 'I'm not a huge Harry Potter fan anymore. I like Freddy Krueger.'

Like every job I’ve ever had, I’ve threatened to quit many times. Cue sobbing children holding onto my leg and a sleepless, guilt-ridden night as I imagine the irreparable psychological damage I may have inflicted on my sweet, sleeping angels with my empty threats. Ah empty threats, that’s an article all to itself.

However, as much as this is the most difficult job I’ve had (note I have worked door to door sales, waitressing and as a holiday rep) it is the most rewarding. A cliche I know but when you tuck them in at night and they share their little secrets or give you an unexpected hug, you forget the constant unloading of the dishwasher or the fact that your house smells of stale milk and urine (the source of which can not be located). 

You grab a baby wipe and remove the snot (theirs) and chocolate (mine) from the pyjamas that you’ve had on since 5 pm. You throw your aching body into the nirvana of bed and smile with pride that you’ve created these crazy, funny creatures.

So, unlike most of my previous employment, I’ll hold onto this job. The pay is crap but the laughs are plenty and I have the perk of putting my tyrants on the naughty step!


About the Author

Mother of 3 young boys, blogging about poo, post-baby vags and other beautiful aspects of parenting and domestic slavery.

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