Straddling the fence

Fat, Frumpy and Fifty was bemoaning the fact that although she'd just joined British Mummy Bloggers, she felt a bit out of it because her kids are older. (Read her post, it's great.) When you're a mother to teenagers, the concerns of younger kids' mothers seem like a different world. Eg.:

-Don't leave them in the bath on their own (for too long)
-Cook on the back rings of your over top so they can't reach the pans
-Listen for the front door as they (mine) have a habit of running off to the neighbour's who then has to phone to check you know where they are.
-Don't forget to leave a note for and from the tooth fairy when the teeth fall out. Oh, and make sure you remove the tooth too.

You know how it goes. It's all rather sweet. Except for when they give up their naps and start doing really naughty things like covering themselves with the nappy/diaper cream, or emptying the polysterene balls from the bean bag into their underwear and pyjama drawer, in an effort to make you realise that they are no longer tired in the middle of the day.

Me - I'm straddling both worlds at the moment. With two teens and a 6 year old I often feel schizophrenic. One minute I'm warning someone that they'd better not go further than the park and have to be in by 10.30pm, and the next I'm trying to come up with the answer to "Why does the Tooth Fairy need all those teeth?" (She's building a white castle out of them BTW. He doesn't seem to think this at all gross!)

The older two have been warned on pain of death and other nasty consequnces that they are not to "out" the Tooth Fairy, and must not make quotation marks in the air when referring to "Santa". Actually, for the most part they have gone along with things quite nicely although they can be heard from time to time telling him to get out of their rooms, or stop annoying them, otherwise they might have to have a word with Santa. Since he's usually the one making the trouble, I think that's all well and good.

The funniest thing however, is that it takes me about two minutes tops to put Little Guy to bed. When he's tired, he's tired. The other two - oh please. First of all I now have to wait up for them to go to bed. (I would leave them to it, but the fridge door would probably be left open, or even the front door.) Once they're up in their rooms the music goes on, which prompts much hissing from me that their little brother is asleep and I would like him to remain that way. Then there's the thumping around for half an hour before they actually climb into their beds. (What on earth do teenagers do that requires them to walk the length of the Amazon back and forth across their rooms?) Then, just when I think it's safe to try to get some sleep, one of them decides they need something from the kitchen (a long way down) and starts sneaking around the house, making me think we're all about to be murdered in our beds.

Yes, all you mothers of little ones - it's all to come. Mwah-ha-ha!