I know all Mum’s little ways and routines. Like the fact that every Saturday morning she gets up before the rest of us, as she likes to putter about in the kitchen completely on her own, listening to her favorite music—stuff like Blur and the Lightning Seeds and Abba or anything by Tom Jones. If it’s winter, she’ll wear an old sweater of Dad’s over her pajamas.
She uses the time to sort things out in her head. I’ve learned that she really needs this alone time and we must not interrupt her. If we leave her to her thoughts, she’s in a much better mood for the rest of the day.
What else does she do? She enjoys ironing, which is strange. She adjusts the ironing board so she can iron sitting down while watching TV. This is always a good time to chat to her about anything that’s bothering me, because she’s relaxed. It’s like she has all the time in the world—maybe because there’s always loads of ironing!
She also does the ironing for our next-door neighbor Mr. Cooper (or Creepy Mr. Cooper, as we call him, because he wears these awful slip-on shoes and lives alone). He pays her twenty pounds a week for doing his shirts and trousers. Mum puts the money in a bank account and calls it our rainy-day money. She’s been doing his ironing for two years now, so she must have over two thousand pounds saved up! I wonder what we’re going to do with it.…
You know what I’d like? For us to go somewhere hot, somewhere that’s not Brindleton. White sand, blue skies, the gentle lapping of waves on the shore. Unfortunately, the fact that Mum’s calling it rainy-day money makes me think she’s got sensible things in mind for it, like mending our roof if it leaks or something equally tragic.
Mum’s routines are always the same, so she’s pretty predictable. She’s a Pilates and aerobics instructor and a personal fitness trainer, so she can be found either in the community gym or power walking round the park with a client. If she’s not in those places, she’ll be at home doing the washing, ironing or cooking (though I try not to encourage this, as Mum’s cooking is shockingly terrible. She has been known to burn a boiled egg). Once a month on a Saturday she’ll take us shopping in Oxford, and every Friday night my Auntie Julie comes round to keep Mum company while I sleep over at Hannah’s and Mandy goes out with her friends and Jack’s asleep.
Knowing these routines makes operating Mum fairly straightforward.
You might not be so lucky; you might have a Grown-Up who’s all over the place, being completely random. If so, try your best to gauge some sort of pattern—but you may just have to use your instincts and cunning to work out when it’s best to approach or avoid them.
There are obvious times to approach a Grown-Up, like when they’re in Happy Mode. But it is always advisable to do a little preparation ahead of your planned approach to ensure that they will be receptive to your demands.
USEFUL HINT
Preparation is essential. Do your research. DO NOT leave things to chance.
I take preparation extremely seriously. For example, a week before we’re due to go to Oxford with my mum on our monthly shopping trip, I’ll start to be more helpful around the house to make sure she’s feeling all warm and grateful toward me when I ask her for new shoes. It works every time, unless we are particularly broke. So—in return for some light vacuuming—I get the shoes, or something else equally essential to my happiness.
I know this technique works with Mum because vacuuming is her most hated chore. However, this may or may not result in the same response from your Grown-Up—another reason to make sure you “get to know” them.
WARNING
You may have prepared for weeks and judged the right moment to make your key operational maneuver, but BEWARE. Grown-Ups are—unfortunately—easily influenced by other Grown-Ups.
Gran Sutton (my dad’s mum) thinks children should be seen and not heard, and probably wishes we were all still sent up chimneys or down into coal mines. There’s NO WAY I’d ever try to operate Mum to my advantage while Gran Sutton was around. If I did, she’d make some unhelpful remark about how I should be grateful to even have a roof over my head and Mum would immediately agree with her.
My Auntie Julie, though, is the complete opposite and definitely someone I encourage to visit. She always tells Mum to go easy on us
Auntie Julie’s been completely obsessed with the band Take That for years, which is why I think she’s never stopped acting like a teenager. It’s Take That’s fault she’s almost forty and still living on her own, dreaming about meeting the perfect man.
How can anyone grow up when they’ve still got a poster of the singer Gary Barlow on their bedroom wall? At her age, how sad is that?
She goes on these dating websites and gets all excited about some wonderful man. Then, when she meets him, he never looks like his photo and nearly always ends up being crazy or perverted.
When Auntie Julie comes round on Fridays she forces Mum to drink at least one glass of wine. She then tells her about her latest adventures in the world of Internet dating. I think Mum enjoys hearing Auntie Julie’s tales—they certainly make her laugh, anyway. I think they also make her glad she doesn’t have to worry about the whole dating scene.
After Auntie Julie arrives and the wine is poured, but before I go off for my sleepover at Hannah’s, is my Window of Opportunity. This is when Mum is off guard—it’s the prime time for me to come clean about something I’ve done wrong, knowing that Auntie Julie will laugh it off and encourage Mum to do the same.
USEFUL HINT
All Grown-Ups are much better behaved and far more reasonable in front of other people. They are far less likely to chase you with a meat cleaver when there are witnesses around. In times of crisis, bear this in mind.
Recently, I used the Window of Opportunity to tell Mum about breaking her third-favorite necklace. The conversation went as follows:
ME: Mum, you know how you can’t find your necklace?
MUM: Yes, the one with the blue beads.
ME: Well, it’s not lost. I broke it, but I was scared to tell you, so I threw it away.
(Scary, long pause.)
MUM: I can’t believe it! How many times have I told you to be more responsible? I really liked that necklace.
ME: Sorry, Mum. It was an accident.
(Another scary, long pause.)
AUNTIE J: Remember when you drew all over our mum’s best blouse in lipstick? She never did get the marks out, did she?
MUM: I was two at the time! Katie’s thirteen, she should know better by now.
AUNTIE J: Well, at least she’s come clean and said sorry, hasn’t she? That’s more than we did when we broke Dad’s camera. We never owned up about that! You know, you’ve got to relax about things, Alison. Go on, have some more wine!
MUM (reluctantly): Well, I’m glad you apologized.…
I suppose I’m lucky with Mum. I always know exactly where I am with her, which is very useful—from an operational viewpoint.
A fab pair of shoes in return for some vacuuming. Getting away with a major crime without a punishment … just the sort of results you too could achieve by simply getting to know your Grown-Up’s routines, modes and functions. It’s easy once you know how to press the right buttons.
Trust me, you’re going to find this guide indispensable!
Saturday, August 1: 5:21 p.m.
ENVIRONMENT
Avoid positioning your Grown-Up where they may get wet, or too cold, or too hot. Extreme conditions will switch your Grown-Up into Grumpy Mode and will impair their function.
IMPORTANT
DO NOT connect your Grown-Up to the electricity supply.
DO NOT place or drop any heavy objects on your Grown-Up.
DO NOT allow small children to operate your Grown-Up.
DO NOT dry laundry over your Grown-Up.
DO NOT write on or use paint on the surface of your Grown-Up.
DO NOT place your Grown-Up in the refrigerator.
NEVER operate your Grown-Up during a thunderstorm.
There are lots of other things
you shouldn’t do to your Grown-Up—like leaving them abandoned beside motorways or putting them in the post. I’m sure you’re sensible enough to work this out for yourself. Basically, try not to trash them. They’re no good to you if you break them, are they?
It’s very important that your Grown-Up is comfortable in their environment. If they’re not, they’ll almost constantly be in Grumpy Mode.
GRUMPY MODE
Grumpy Mode is one of the easiest modes to identify because it’s when everything in the world annoys your Grown-Up.
If your Grown-Up is in Grumpy Mode, then DO NOT, repeat DO NOT ask them for anything. Because even if you asked them if you could go to London to receive a bravery award from the prime minister for saving loads of people’s lives, they’d probably say no.
The best course of action when your Grown-Up is in Grumpy Mode is to use the Avoidance Technique until they snap out of it. Listen carefully for where they are in the house (this is easy, as they are usually slamming doors, banging cutlery drawers and grumbling angrily) and make sure that you stay well clear of them.
Like all Grown-Ups, when Mum’s in Grumpy Mode she’s totally unreasonable. I’ve learned the hard way to avoid her, or to use the more advanced technique of mode-switching.
Mum has been in Grumpy Mode for most of the day today—mainly because Jack brought Shame on the Family—which is very annoying, seeing as it’s a Saturday. If Mum’s in Happy Mode on a Saturday sometimes she’ll take Rascal for his walk and let me do my own thing. If she’s in Grumpy Mode, there’s no chance and she’ll purposely find millions of jobs for me to do.
It all began when a phone call interrupted Mum’s peaceful puttering-about time. It was the library saying Mum needed to pay an enormous fine because Jack hadn’t returned a whole pile of Doctor Who books.
When we got there, the librarian on duty was one of Mum’s distant cousins, from the snooty branch of the family. You could tell by the way she was looking down her nose at us that she disapproved of:
a) the fine
b) the not-very-intellectual Doctor Who books
c) Jack’s hair, which looks messy no matter how much Mum brushes it.
Over by the periodicals was a group of old ladies, including Gran Sutton. She was staring over at us with her beady eyes. Her and Mum have had a disagreement recently, so she’s looking for any excuse to be harsh.
It was very quiet, as libraries tend to be. Then, totally out of the blue, Jack said, “Listen to this!” and did a huge, enormous, ear-shattering burp that lasted at least five seconds. This did not go down well.
The librarian said, “Really!” and there was a lot of shaking of heads and tutting noises from the old ladies by the periodicals, led of course by a very disapproving Gran Sutton.
That was it; Mum switched into full Grumpy Mode. I had to do loads of vacuuming when we got home and I had to walk Rascal. She’s only just come out of it now.
WARNING
Younger brothers and sisters can ruin your careful operational plans. They are completely unpredictable and can, in a matter of seconds, undo hours of careful preparation by switching your Grown-Up into an undesirable mode. When possible, use techniques such as distraction, threats or bribery to keep younger siblings under control.
What’s great about my mum, though, is that she’s not in Grumpy Mode too much, and her favorite environment is mostly hanging about the house with Jack and Mandy and me, which suits us just fine.
It’s much easier to predict what your Grown-Up is about to do if they’re right next to you on the sofa, watching TV. In Mum’s case, I can predict she will do one of the following:
a) ask me to put the kettle on
b) at some point say “this is rubbish”
c) fall asleep.
Wednesday, August 5: 8:07 p.m.
VIBRATION/NOISE
Most Grown-Ups dislike loud noise and vibrations. Be careful when using loudspeakers or amplifiers near your Grown-Up. Certain vibrations and magnetic fields can cause Grown-Ups to switch to Grumpy Mode. If this happens, act quickly. Grown-Ups can quickly progress into Irritated and even Angry Mode if the situation continues. And you don’t want to go there, trust me.
Because of their highly stressful lives, most Grown-Ups want a bit of peace after a hard day. Which is why, for lots of them, loud music is a sore point.
For example, Hannah and me got in trouble with her mum, Auntie Susan, today. Apparently she could not hear herself think due to our playing music too loud when she was trying to sleep after a night shift at the hospital (she’s a nurse).
I was lying on Hannah’s bed doing exercises to try to build up my leg muscles and Hannah was on the floor painting her toenails a very attractive shade of scarlet. The next thing we knew, Auntie Susan came storming in with her face as red as Hannah’s toenails, shouting at us to “turn that racket off” or she’d “throw the CD player out the window.” Which we thought was a bit harsh.
“She’s probably got PMS or menopause or something,” said Hannah.
“No,” I said, “she’s just in Grumpy Mode.”
“You’re not going on about Grown-Ups and their modes and functions again, are you?” laughed Hannah, lifting her right foot up with remarkable flexibility and blowing on her toenails.
“I can’t help being an expert,” I said.
Mandy likes to play her music so loudly you can feel your teeth vibrating in your head. She’s lucky Mum’s not more like Auntie Susan, considering how incredibly annoying it is.
While Mandy’s playing her loud music, she’s usually in front of the mirror in the Cupboard. Mandy spends more time looking in the mirror than anybody I’ve ever met. I can’t think why; I wouldn’t want to be staring at that great big moaning face all day.
Actually, Mandy’s quite pretty, if she would just smile now and again. Her best features are her blue eyes, which are exactly like Mum’s. Her hair’s thick and wavy and chestnut-brown. I’d love to have Mandy’s hair instead of mine, which doesn’t do anything except hang unattractively round my ears.
Mandy’s not quite a Grown-Up, but she’s always in Grumpy Mode about something—for example, if she gets a big spot on her chin or decides that she’s massively fat (she’s not), we all have to tiptoe around because at the slightest thing she’ll switch into Angry Mode and say that we are trying to “ruin her life.” I could do a whole guide on Mandy, she’s becoming so complicated.… Maybe that could be my next project!
One noise Mum does hate is the sound of Mandy’s mobile when she gets a text. It’s this really annoying chiming noise and it goes off all the time because she’s always texting her moronic friends things like “Wat r u wearing 2nite?”
Mandy and I used to be more like friends before she got obsessed with how she looks. I miss the old Mandy, the one who was more of a laugh. I remember one time we were on holiday, eating ice cream and Mandy shoved her cone up my nose, so I shoved mine up her nose. We were laughing so hard we were snorting vanilla chocolate chip.
It doesn’t sound as funny now as it was at the time, but that’s the sort of thing I miss about Mandy. If I shoved an ice cream cone up her nose now it would ruin her makeup, which is the worst thing I could ever do. She’d go straight into Angry Mode. Maybe even Ax Murderer Mode. I’d have to leave the country and change my identity so she couldn’t track me down.
Mandy’s friends are all just like her. I got the idea to call them the Clones because they all dress and speak identically. They even wave their hands about in exactly the same way when they talk.
Mandy’s main best friend (or should I say best Clone?) is called Lucy Parrish. Mandy won’t let me talk to them when Lucy comes round, and won’t even let me in the Cupboard when they are in there slapping on layer after layer of makeup with giant trowels.
It’s incredibly unfair.
She’s also constantly accusing me of stealing her stuff (like she did with the lip gloss the other day), even though she’s always losing things. So it’s “Katie, h
ave you stolen my black eyeliner?” or “Katie, have you nicked my nail polish?”
Well, sometimes I do “borrow” her stuff—it’s much better than mine. I just have to make sure Mandy doesn’t catch me with any of it on.
USEFUL HINT
Avoiding your older siblings can be just as beneficial to your general well-being as avoiding your Grown-Up.
Talking about avoiding Grown-Ups—to get away from Auntie Susan in Grumpy Mode, me and Hannah went out to the park. Hannah wore her flip-flops to show off her toenails. Neil Parkhouse and Jonathan Elliott—who go to our school—were there, but not Thomas Finch.
I think Neil Parkhouse likes Hannah, because he stole one of her flip-flops and threw it over a fence. We made him go and get it back. He was climbing back over when he stepped in a great big pile of dog poo, which was very hilarious.
“Did you know there are seven point four million dogs in the UK?” commented Jonathan Elliott (who I reckon has a giant book at home called Little-Known Facts to Bore Your Friends With). “Between them they produce one thousand tons of feces every day!”
It’s typical of Jonathan to use a word like “feces.”
“Well, I’ve got most of it on my shoe,” muttered Neil.
Then Ben Clayden turned up!!! He was playing tennis with Jake, one of my many cousins, but Hannah and I couldn’t stare like we wanted to, as nobody must know how we feel.
On the way home, we came up with this brilliant plan to borrow a couple of tennis rackets so we can impress Ben. Neither of us has ever played tennis, but I’m sure we’ll pick it up. It can’t be that difficult, can it?
Thursday, August 6: 4:45 p.m.
Diary of a Parent Trainer Page 2
