Diary of a Parent Trainer

by Jennifer Smith

OVERHEATING

  Like all complex appliances, your Grown-Up can be prone to overheating. Unfortunately, this can happen very quickly. Overheating can be caused by a number of factors, but as every Grown-Up is unique, something that causes overheating in one Grown-Up may not cause it in another. The trick is to work out what their triggers are.

  Overheating is easy to spot, because your Grown-Up’s face will become extremely red. BE VERY CAREFUL. Overheating can lead to your Grown-Up’s behaving irrationally and even dangerously. If overheating occurs, for your own safety move away from the Grown-Up until they have cooled down.

  Today, when I got home from Hannah’s, Mandy was cleaning out the garage! There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing a brother or sister doing some hideous punishment while you watch from a safe distance, a smug expression on your face.

  It turned out she had called Mum a loser, which caused Mum to instantly overheat. Not only is Mandy cleaning out the garage, but she’s also not allowed to go to Lucy Parrish’s party tonight, which I know she thinks is the social event of the summer!

  Mum will not put up with disrespect—that’s one of her triggers. Now, if Mandy was an expert like I am, she would have known that. But she didn’t. Which is why she is in trouble and I am lying on the sofa, relaxing. Life is good!

  Mum’s pretty normal as far as overheating is concerned. I mean, she doesn’t get all stressed all the time like some Grown-Ups. She puts up with Mandy, who’s constantly sulking, texting and generally being a drama queen. But she won’t let Mandy go too far. Like today, for example. Sometimes overheating is good, I suppose; it shows people your limits.

  With Mum, you usually know when you’ve crossed the line. Like last year when I wore her special scarf to the carnival in Oxford. It’s dark green velvet, and she’s always kept it draped over the back of the chair in front of her dressing table. I thought that as she never wore it, she wouldn’t mind if I borrowed it.

  I have never seen Mum instantly overheat the way she did when I came home that evening. Not only was I wearing her scarf, but (being incredibly classy) I’d managed to drip ketchup down it from a hot dog I’d eaten.

  She ripped it off me and kept yelling that I had no right to borrow it without asking, blah, blah, blah, shout, shout, shout.

  It turned out that it was a present she’d got from Dad way back when they were teenagers, but how was I to know that? You’d think it was some valuable priceless antique the way she carried on.

  That was when I realized you have to be aware of your Grown-Up’s triggers. Luckily, I’d already developed a handy four-step plan to deal with a Grown-Up overheating:

  OVERHEATING—THE FOUR-STEP EMERGENCY PLAN:

  1) Move away from your Grown-Up. Do not stand in immediate proximity to your Grown-Up, as this could put you in physical danger.

  2) Use calming language such as “Never Mind” and “Let’s Put This in Perspective” and “Worse Things Happen at Sea.”

  3) Offer to help, even if you know there’s nothing you can do. For example “Would you like me to clean that from the ceiling?” or “Can I get you a glass of water?” or “Would you like to breathe into this paper bag?”

  4) Wait for them to cool down. This can take some time.

  The four-point plan worked on the scarf occasion—I highly recommend point 4, which always works if points 1 through 3 haven’t. Luckily for us, Mum tends to cool down quite quickly once she’s got things out of her system.

  Thursday, August 6: 5:15 p.m.

  There are some images so terrible, so HORRIFIC, that they sort of burn themselves into your mind. Do you know what I mean? Well, that’s exactly what’s just happened to me.

  I just went into the kitchen to get myself a glass of milk and what did I see? Mum’s obviously cooled off after overheating earlier. In fact, she’s so chilled out she is—right now—dancing around the kitchen to her Abba Gold CD! She’s doing that Grown-Up dance where they have their elbows at their sides and do the strutting thing, and wiggle their bums. SO EMBARRASSING. I quickly retreated before she saw me, in case she tried to get me to join in.

  Major cringe-fest.

  WARNING

  If your model of Grown-Up is ancient (like, over thirty), they may react to a song they like with the “Dancing” and “Singing Along” operations, which means that they have switched to one of the worst modes of all.

  EMBARRASSING MODE

  Grown-Ups will always embarrass you at exactly the worst moment. FACT.

  Whether you’re at school or shopping or anywhere in public, you can guarantee that at some point your Grown-Up will go into Embarrassing Mode. And at that exact moment, at least ten people you know will be walking past.

  Grown-Ups who are very old (like, over forty) have often passed into the “I Don’t Care What People Think, I’ll Say What I Like” stage, which means that you can have little or no influence over their Vocal Output. Be prepared for an ENORMOUS Embarrassment Factor, as they say things like, “I remember when you made a puddle all over the floor at your birthday party when you were two. You were so cute!”

  Embarrassing Mode is, sadly, a very common occurrence where all Grown-Ups are concerned. Again, I have devised an ingenious and simple four-step emergency plan you can follow:

  EMBARRASSING MODE—THE FOUR-STEP EMERGENCY PLAN:

  1) Move away from your Grown-Up.

  2) Do not stand in immediate proximity to your Grown-Up.

  3) Pretend you don’t actually know them.

  4) Say “I’ve never seen this person before in my life.”

  Just by existing your Grown-Up is probably a huge embarrassment. My mum certainly is. I’m lucky no one else saw her dancing just now, but her cringe-worthy behavior doesn’t stop there. A few weeks ago I got my first bra. I don’t really need it, to be honest … but everyone else has one, so I talked Mum into it.

  She took me into Oxford and treated me to a hot chocolate in this posh café to make a proper occasion out of it. It came served in a tall glass with whipped cream and marshmallows on top.

  That’s a typical Mum thing to do. She’s very good at giving each of us what she calls “special time.” She should win a prize, since most Grown-Ups suck at that, from what I hear.

  But then she completely RUINED it in the shop. Anyone from here to Timbuktu could hear her shouting to the assistant about me needing a “JUNIOR BRA”! She might as well have used a megaphone. Major public humiliation.

  SAD BUT TRUE FACT

  The more embarrassing the topic, the louder your Grown-Up’s Vocal Output becomes.

  And our Grown-Ups wonder why we don’t want to hang out with them!!

  My dad used to always embarrass us at family parties—he was a great fan of dancing and singing along.

  He’d get up and dance even if nobody else did, and to make it worse he’d get all the words wrong. We’ve got this old video of him waving his arms around and treating us all to his own out-of-tune version of “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” at Auntie Julie’s thirtieth birthday party. Sometimes I watch it with Mum and we laugh a lot … and sometimes we’ll have a little cry.

  I’d better tell you about what happened with my dad. He died four years ago. There. I’ve said it. It was really, really terrible for a long time, but we’re all right now. Honestly.

  Dad said he didn’t want us to go about with giant sad faces for the rest of our lives because of what happened to him. He said he wanted us to go out there and make the most of life and do things to “make a difference.”

  This is how I’m hoping to make a difference, by writing this User’s Guide. I want to make life easier for everyone out there whose Grown-Ups are—let’s face it—totally out of control.

  There are so many books about how Grown-Ups can manage the behavior of children and teenagers—but there’s NOTHING about how we can manage them.

  It’s official! I’m breaking entirely new ground!

  Friday, August 7: 3:00 p.m.

  I’m hiding in my
bedroom, unable to face the world ever again. Ever. Really. How ironic that just yesterday I was writing, in a superior manner, about Embarrassing Mode. Compared to my display at the park today, Mum dancing to Abba in the kitchen was actually incredibly cool.

  Okay, here’s what happened. Hannah and me dug out our mums’ antique tennis rackets and some balls and rushed down to the tennis courts this afternoon because the other day we heard Ben Clayden say to Jake, “See you again Friday.” Sure enough, they were there and the court next to theirs was empty. Ka-ching!

  We strolled over casually.

  “Didn’t know you played,” said Jake, looking at us in a suspicious way.

  “All the time!” I said brightly, bouncing the ball up and down professionally. Hannah stood expectantly on the other side of the net, clutching her racket with both hands.

  I took a deep breath and threw the ball in the air, hoping for the best as I took a great swing at it. It flew straight into the net.

  “Fault!” shouted Hannah, skipping from foot to foot, her ponytail swinging from side to side. I wanted to slap her.

  I bounced the second ball, then threw it in the air. Thwack! The ball flew into Ben and Jake’s court, hitting their net.

  “Double fault!” trilled Hannah cheerfully.

  “I know, why don’t you try serving,” I said as Jake threw our ball back over.

  Hannah threw the ball in the air and missed it entirely. I decided not to shout “Fault” as I am not as childish as Hannah can be. She tried again and this time her racket made contact with the ball, which actually got over the net. I was so surprised I forgot to hit it back.

  We decided to serve underhand, which is easier, and to just have a “knockabout.” We were congratulating ourselves on a great rally (where we had hit the ball back and forth four times without missing it), when we realized Jake and Ben were looking highly amused.

  “So, have you two put your names down for Wimbledon yet?” Jake called across as he and Ben effortlessly hit the ball to and fro like professionals.

  Obviously we had to carry on for slightly longer, as stopping would only have been admitting defeat. So we went on with our pathetic attempts at tennis for another twenty minutes, trying to act like we were just having a bit of fun and like we actually enjoyed constantly having to get the ball out of the net or off the courts on either side.

  It was then that I did the incredibly stupid thing. On TV, I’d seen tennis players leaping the net when they’d won a big tournament and it looked easy enough. So when we decided to stop, I had this idea that I’d try it. I thought it might impress Ben.

  As I ran toward her, I could see the disbelief and fear in Hannah’s eyes. The net loomed up, and at the last moment I knew with terrible, awful certainty that I couldn’t make it, but I couldn’t stop. In slow motion, I flew into the air and cleared the net with my first leg, then caught my other foot and landed flat on my face.

  “Are you okay?” Hannah and Jake and Ben Clayden were standing over me as I sat up. I put my hand to my chin. There was blood.

  “I think it’s only grazed,” said Ben matter-of-factly. “I’d get home and clean it up. What were you trying to do?”

  I didn’t have the heart to answer him. I just about managed not to cry. Hannah got me to my feet and led me out of the park.

  Hannah could have gone on and on at me, asking me what I was thinking and why did I do it. But she didn’t. She just took me home and handed me over to Mum and then she said she’d come over later with some chocolate. That’s why Hannah is the most solid-gold, diamond-studded best friend and cousin anyone could ever have.

  And I’m an idiot who should live in a cave, away from other humans.

  Mum went into Sympathy Mode as soon as she saw my mutant chin.

  SYMPATHY MODE

  This is a very rare mode. Grown-Ups usually prefer to belittle your pain by saying things like:

  “I’ve seen much worse than that.”

  “Double pneumonia? I TOLD you to wear your school hoodie.”

  “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Snap out of it.”

  or my personal favorite: “I don’t think you’ll die.”

  You will know when your Grown-Up is in Sympathy Mode because you will have their full attention. When this happens, milk it for all it’s worth because it may not last very long.

  “My goodness, what’s happened?” Mum cried, immediately getting the Mr. Bump ice pack out of the freezer. I told her that I’d been going for a difficult shot and tripped—making my accident sound heroic rather than self-inflicted.

  “Poor old you!” she said, leading me upstairs to the bathroom, where she slapped antiseptic cream on the cut, which hurt loads.

  “Mum, don’t make me go to Hannah’s tonight,” I begged, when I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. “I can never leave the house again!”

  “I tell you what,” she said as she put the cream back into the bathroom cabinet, “why don’t we have Hannah here for a change and you can ask Louise too. We’ll have a girls’ night to cheer you up. I’ll get some pizza.”

  Now, that is Sympathy Mode at its best.

  USEFUL HINT

  To achieve full Sympathy Mode in your Grown-Up, make sure you appear as a completely innocent victim.

  I never would have triggered Sympathy Mode if I’d told my mum the absolute truth about how I got my chin injury. If I’d told her about the net leaping I’d have got the “Well, it’s your own fault” response, which is much less satisfactory.

  I enjoyed basking in Mum’s sympathy for a while, but when I went up to the Cupboard to tidy it for Hannah and Loops, I started having flashbacks. This obviously means I have post–traumatic stress disorder! I kept seeing the look on Ben Clayden’s face after he saw my Leap of Shame—a look of disbelief, pity and … I’m sure of it … disgust.

  I crept under my duvet and wished that I could fast-forward my life by ten or twenty years in the hope that by then everyone might have forgotten about it. Rascal leaped on the bed and burrowed under the duvet, giving my face one lick and then running away, spluttering and sneezing. He’d obviously tasted the antiseptic cream.

  11:30 p.m.

  I must have fallen asleep, because I was woken up much later, when Hannah and Loops burst into the Cupboard, their hands filled with everything chocolatey that I love.

  “Get out from under there!” cried Loops. “We can’t eat all this alone!”

  I stuck my head out and saw Loops wince at the sight of my chin, which apart from the graze was turning a lovely shade of purplish-blue. Thank goodness it’s not term-time, was all I could think.

  Tactfully, neither Hannah nor Loops referred to my super-uncool hang-your-sorry-head-in-shame-you-loser-idiot-of-the-century behavior of earlier, but took the more sensible approach of stuffing chocolate down me and talking about everything else except tennis-related subjects.

  “So, design your future!” said Hannah. This is one of our favorite games.

  “Me first!” said Loops. “Okay. I’m working as a top camerawoman, traveling all over the world filming buff movie actors.

  “Then one day Robert Pattinson says, ‘Beauty like yours should not be behind the camera; can you act?’ And I say, ‘I honestly don’t know.’ But I’m a natural, and soon I’m starring in lots of mega films earning millions of pounds and I win an Oscar. I retire when I’m thirty, and then I have four children with Rob (two sets of twins to cut down on being pregnant) and we live on an island in the Caribbean … but with a private jet so we can go to New York and London and places.”

  Loops threw herself down on the bed at my feet, eyes closed as she entered her blissful R-Patz-related fantasy.

  “Sounds just about bearable,” said Hannah, “if you like vampires. What about you, Katie-Cat?”

  “I will spend the rest of my life in a remote Himalayan village, with only a donkey as my friend.”

  “Not the bald, toothless nun thing again,” said Hannah, who know
s me so well.

  “Do they have donkeys in the Himalayas?” asked Loops.

  “Come on, Katie,” said Hannah, “stop wallowing.”

  “Okay,” I said, “in the next year I surprise everyone by getting long sexy legs. I work as a supermodel for a few years but only to earn enough money to start my International Dog and Dolphin Rescue Center, on the next island along from Loops and R-Patz.”

  Normally I would have gone on to suggest that Ben Clayden would turn up one day and decide he wanted to stay and run the center with me. Today I did not have the heart for it. Anyway, Loops is getting sick of hearing Hannah and me going on about Ben Clayden.

  “Sounds fab,” said Hannah, not enthusiastically enough, “but listen to mine.

  “War is about to break out between various countries. Global warming is getting bad. Then I discover a way to establish world peace and stop global warming!”

  “And that is …?” Loops said, asking the question nobody was meant to ask.

  “Lots of … yard sales?” said Hannah lamely, obviously not having thought things through.

  We all dissolved into chocolate-fueled, screeching laughter.

  Friends have a way of making things better.

  Saturday, August 8: 2:00 p.m.

  PROBLEMS OR QUERIES IN CASE OF MALFUNCTION

  Please remember that if you have any problems or queries relating to your Grown-Up, there’s no customer care team waiting to help you. If your Grown-Up suffers a serious malfunction, there is no service warranty and there are no guarantees whatsoever, five-year or otherwise.

  You are on your own.

  Hannah and Loops left this morning, strolling off in an annoyingly carefree manner to enjoy looking un-freaklike and being able to walk the streets without being ridiculed. Thanks to the magic of chocolate and laughter, they made me feel loads better last night.

  Thank goodness for friends.