Children Should Be Seen and Not Heard

And some children should not be allowed to leave the house. Am outraged. My darling M, 3 years going on 13, has had her first experience of bullying. Actually, correct that - it should be renamed Downright Thuggery.

Parents across the universe will be familiar with the perils of the playground but when is it acceptable to step in and stick up for your little ones, without destroying their street cred? Mr H would probably argue that it's okay to do this up until M reaches 36 years of age (when she's allowed to move out, apparently...) but I've always been slightly hesitant to get involved in child scraps. Not that this particular incident was a scrap. It was a case of Big Child Who Should Know Better versus Small Child Who Didn't Stand A Chance.

M is now sporting a black eye, courtesy of being punched in the face by said Big Child AKA Little Shite. She took it well - one cold patch and a chocolate mini-milk later, she'd all but forgotten about her first proper brush with violence. But me, I was stewing on it until the early hours. What made it worse was me telling Mr H about the incident and watching him positively explode in anger. 'He did WHAT??!!'....followed by 'What did YOU do??!!'. Erm, actually, nothing. Except for administer love and cuddles and the promise of lots of ice cream for being such a brave soldier. The trouble being, that in this particular play area (indoors, about 100 children of varying ages, running around like mad, caged hyenas on ecstasy), I couldn't see the Little Shite who did it. M's description of 'horrible big boy' wasn't quite enough for me to reprimand every single lad in the joint, athough it was tempting. The other problem is that you also don't know how the parents are going to react to you telling their kids off. They might shrug their shoulders, carry on reading Take A Break OR they could give you a matching shiner. You never know.

I had another experience of this when M was about 18 months old. In an outdoor playground in a not-so-nice-area (that should have been a very big warning in the first place), she was happily playing on a pirate playship when I heard a little boy screaming, telling her to 'GET OFF MY SHIP'. When I actually made it up the tiny steps of this vessel (not easy when your bottom is wider than the entrance), the little boy was pinning her against the wall and shouting obscenities about 2cm away from her face. It's the kind of parenting moment that you dread - (1) your child is in danger of being hurt/mentally traumatised, (2) you have a split second to react and (3) you are in public and hence must take full responsibility for your following actions.

In this particular case, point (3) went out of the window as I saw red and hollered at the top of my voice, for all of Surrey to hear 'WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING??'. The look on the little boy's face was one of sheer terror. I didn't have time to look around to see if his mum/dad/carer were approaching/preparing for a fight. I had only one mission - get my poor child off this goddamn thing and make a dignified departure without incurring burn marks on my hips whilst trying to get through the very narrow exit. Luckily, the parent wished to remain anonymous. He/she was either too embarrassed at the son's outrageous behaviour, or unwilling to take on a very angry mum who at this point, must have looked like a wild protective animal.

I do however, have a solution for all of this. Enrol your children on a martial arts course. We are lucky to know a Tae Kwon Do instructor who teaches girls and boys from the age of 5. It sounds like desperate measures but actually it will achieve lots of things - discipline and fitness to name a couple. The added advantage of her being able to ninja kick any threatening boys will also be handy and with that, I expect to be able to sleep a lot better.

Twitter...A Step Too Far

Last week I signed up to Twitter. I twitter-twattered with Demi, Ashton, P Diddy (yes, really) and got various random updates from fellow Twits about their hourly goings ons. After day two of twittering about, it suddenly dawned on me that my attempt to fully embrace modern technology was perhaps leading me down a rather unhealthy path. Never one to do things by halves, I had fallen into that deadly trap of feeling that I had to keep up with every other Tom, Dick and Twit by signing up to another 'social network' in the effort to stay 'on trend' and 'with it'...but it didn't make me feel like, well, me.

Now I'm all for embracing change, especially change of the technologically advancing sort (see previous entry about cafe blogging - still very proud of that one). When my mum bought me an Atari for my 9th bday, I thought I'd died and gone to PacMan Heaven. When I got my first Sony Walkman in the 80's (the size of a house brick), I strutted my stuff and didn't stop till I did get enough (too much pain in the back and neck, actually). And when I got my own email account at work, I thought I'd broken the very last telecommunications barrier and that the whole world would finally hear my voice. They very nearly did - unfortunately, when I emailed my mum telling her I'd be home for tea, inadvertently cc'ing the entire BBC marketing department, I did lose some of that hard earned street cred.

These days, I find myself checking into Facebook EVERY day. The whole world and his wife is on there. I get invites to parties via Facebook (what ever happened to paper invitations?). I check the wellbeing of my little brother on Facebook (he is allergic to phoning home apparently). I arrange to meet friends on Facebook. I even found out about the sad demise of Michael Jackson on Facebook. So that is what I have become. A profile picture. With no voice. Just a status update.

I miss SPEAKING to my friends. Don't get me wrong - I love the spontaneous, instantaneous interaction you get with Facebook and it's certainly good for updating my far flung loved ones with photos and video clips of M's latest ballet show, etc. Plus, proper, grown up phone conversations don't necessarily mix well with a demanding 3 year old who always manages to sabotage my phone time by shouting something awfully embarrassing like 'MUMMY I DID A POO IN THE KITCHEN!'... But I guess it's the way we are heading. Less human contact and more clacking of the keyboard.

Unfortunately though, with Twitter, it was just one step too far. Aside from the fact that no one in their right mind would have been THAT interested in my hourly updates, it just seemed like a waste of time. And time is precious.

"Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you." - Carl Sandburg

25 Random Things...About Me

1. I have 2 tattoos on my back - both of which I love, both of which my mother despises.

2. English is my first and only proper language, unless you include pissed Spanish.

3. I used to have arachnophobia but got cured by hypnotherapy at London Zoo's Friendly Spider Programme and held a tarantula at the end of the session. Unfortunately it worked too well and I rescued a deadly Redback in Australia's Outback, scaring my tour guide out of his wits.

4. My dream cars are a Lotus Elan (for running around) and an Aston Martin DB9 (to be run around in).

5. My wonderlust hero has always and will always be Lawrence Dallaglio - woof woof.

6. I once made Mr H strip off and do a naked streak along Colliers Wood High Street, to prove his love to me. Unfortunately he got recognised by a neighbour.

7. I once received a kiss from Morten Haarket (aha) when I was 12.

8. I will never forgive myself for practising wax stripping on my sister's legs (she was 7).

9. I'm also sorry for cutting my cousin's ponytail off when we were 9.

10. I secretly want to start ballet all over again now that M goes to her weekly lessons.

11. Contrary to popular belief, I have never planned my wedding. I have a few vague ideas in my head but nothing concrete....honestly.

12. I could eat salmon sashimi every day for the rest of my life.

13. I would like to have one more child, one day, but definitely not now (and only on the proviso that they guarantee me the drugs).

14. I eat chocolate every day (dark, min 70%).

15. I used to be a cox for DMU's mens' IV - in the good old days when I could fit my bottom into a boat.

16. I am a brand junkie.

17. If I had another chance at A-levels and uni, I would like to have studied Art.

18. Having said that, university was a ball and I wouldn't change anything about it, except perhaps my final results.

19. I wish my little bro didn't live so far away and that he came home more often (and CALLED me).

20. One day, I will have a walk-in wardrobe and a shoe closet.

21. I come from a family of very stubborn women so it's in my genes.

22. I cannot sit on sand or grass without something in-between them and my body.

23. My favourite smells are my new Chloe perfume and M's skin.

24. My great, great, great Grandfather was third in rank to the Emperor's throne so I am a teeny weeny bit blue-blooded. I kid you not.

25. I am full of confidence, but very empty of self-esteem (apparently).