Birmingham Mail - Bad Dad

A dish best served cold

2008-09-23T12:43:40Z

My 13-year-old lad is a good, old fashioned boy.

He likes nothing better than playing footie in the park until after dark, coming home for food, going out again and then refusing to shower.

He's got a kind temperament but is fiercely loyal and reacts badly if his dignity is challenged.

So when he emerged from defence with the ball at his feet in a Sunday league game only to stand on the ball (we've all done it) and a rival player laughed at him, I cringed.

Alex said nothing but clearly took a mental note of the transgressor.

The game continued and then it happened.

Two minutes from time a throw in to the opposition right in front of me.
The laughing striker shielded it but only for a second as Alex came through the back of him like a steam train, leaving him in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Part of me was angry at his lack of discipline at giving away a free kick, but I'm ashamed to say there was a tiny bit of me that was delighted that he was happy to stand his ground and fight his own battles.

The striker will think twice about mocking other peoples' misfortunes in future.

No more Mr Nice Guy

2008-09-22T08:44:35Z

I'VE just watched a fascinating programme entitled The World's Strictest Parents that should be compulsory viewing for all mums, dads...and children.

Take two stroppy teenagers, throw in a couple of all American boys who never done no bad and then add their amazing parents into the cocktail and you've got the recipe for gripping TV.

Dad is a good cop, bad cop combination of an SS officer and Ned Flanders from the Simpsons.

And here's the rub. His approach seems to work.

The two Brit brats sent to his house in Alabama for a week ended up loving his strict regime as their self esteem soared and their confidence grew in line with the tighter boundaries.

And that's where, in real life, I fall down so often.

My boundaries are wavering, fuzzy and sometimes never adhered to - I don't lay the law down in case I upset my children or the confrontation turns into a full blown head to head row .

But not any more...this programme has reinforced my belief that children - even my argumentative, rude and often uncooperative two lads - actually want strict, known boundaries.

And that's exactly what they're going to get from now on. Or at least while I remember.

Spooked by a hair raising 'visit'

2008-09-05T11:14:46Z

WHEN green slime started appearing on my bathroom walls I feared a supernatural presence was among us.

There were tick trails of the stuff by the light switch, blobs of the goo on the floor and rivulets of watery gunk by the skirting board.

We were genuinely baffled by what could be causing this unexplained activity.

Baffled, that is, until I discovered an economy pot of what hairdressers quaintly call 'product' hidden in an alcove beneath the bathroom wash-hand basin.

The riddle was soon solved when I spotted my eldest son coiffeuring his hair with abandon in front of the mirror.

Head under the tap, drench hair with water, grab handful of green slime permanent hold gunk and then splash through hair like a dog that's just emerged from a river.

The end result is perfectly moulded locks and a wall of slime which, needless to say, "wasn't me" when Nick was confronted with the evidence.

He naturally offered to clean up the offending mess - in my dreams!

He's had his hair cut now so hopefully that will be the end of our supernatural visitations...until he hits on another mindless activity to annoy the hell out of me.

Holiday? What holiday?

2008-09-04T10:03:44Z

WE'VE just returned from a two week break - and to be honest I'm glad to back in the office.

Spending time with a hormonal 15-year-old boy in a hotel in the searing heat is, take my word for it, absolute hell.

For starters they are NEVER EVER happy or contented and are ALWAYS hungry.

Three meals a day all going on the credit card soon dwindled to two and then to a snack and an all you can eat buffet as my credit card started to groan.

After years of saving we'd taken the plunge and gone to Florida and the theme parks - nine of them to be precise - in a gruelling military style campaign.

My family dubbed me a cross between Usain Bolt and Christopher Columbus as I negotiated my way, apparently too quickly, from Epcot to Universal Studios and back to Busch Gardens.

The kids have all returned fitter, leaner and desperate for vegetables after a burger diet...so what's the problem?

The only problem is everyone's totally exhausted and needs another holiday.