‘If’ by Life Is Knutts (and Rudyard Kipling)

image_pdfimage_print
A Mum’s version of, ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling…
 img_6768-3
If you can keep your head when all about you
    Your children are losing theirs and blaming it on you
(“The baby did a poo in the bath Mummy! That’s your fault! Argh! Evacuate!”),
If you can trust yourself when all your children doubt you
(“Of course Mummy and Daddy aren’t Santa! You silly billies! You’ll be telling me the tooth Fairy isn’t real next!”),
    But make allowance for their doubting too;
(“I’m still not convinced Mummy and Daddy aren’t Santa. Explain how Santa can get in our house when we don’t have a chimney and why do they keep saying everything is ‘too expensive?’…”)
If you can wait (for them to decide what they want for breakfast) and not be tired by waiting,
    Or being lied about (“I didn’t eat all the Christmas Tree Chocolates, it was Mummy! I saw her!”), don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated (“You’re the worst Mummy, EVER!!!” – Because I said no to them selecting a Terrys Chocolate Orange as one of their 5 a day choices), don’t give way to hating,
    And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
(Don’t look too good?! Don’t talk too wise?! Blimey. No fear of that anymore Mr Kipling! Where’s my bloody Gin gone…??)
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
(Ah, wow! I just had a whole nights sleep…i feel so refreshed!)
    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
(Where did I put my sodding house keys…??)
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
(“Yes! He’s done a poo on the potty!!! Oh god, no, he’s just put the potty on his head…”)
img_6700

“Look at me Mummy! Aren’t I clever?!” Erm, no. No you’re not.

    And treat those impostors just the same;
(“Imposter? Who? Him?! No, that’s just my husband who is home for a change rather than at work, asleep on the sofa or out on his Bike…”)
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
(“Yes, ok, it was me that ate the majority of the Chocolates off the Christmas Tree…”)
    Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
(“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to your brother was it?! Unlock the cupboard door and let him out…”)
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
(“Not my Wedding Ring! Please don’t throw that down the toilet just so you can push the magic button and make it disappear!!!!”)
    And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
(Who needs a screwdriver to open a toy when you can use a kitchen knife?! Us mums are industrious)
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
(I’ve only ever won £9.36 on the EuroMillions. That’s not going to go far is it…)
    And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
(Oh, what the hell, lets spend my £9.36 winnings on 3 more goes at the EuroMillions this week…you’ve got to be in it to win it!)
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
(Oh, bloody hell! I knew I should’ve cut my losses! Not 1 sodding number on any of my 3 tickets!!!)
    And never breathe a word about your loss;
(I won’t tell my husband I even won £9.36 in the first place. Ignorance is bliss and all that…)
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
(“I promise I’m not going to shout at the children today…”)
img_6283

Best laid plans and all that…

  To serve your turn long after they are gone,
(“I dont’t care that you’re 22 years old, you will phone me if you’re going to be home after 11:30pm…”)
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
(“I’m so bloody exhausted I could sleep standing up next to an amplifier at a Rock Gig…”)
    Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’
(Nope, come on body, you have to stay up until at least 9pm. You’ve only seen your husband for 30 minutes today…”)
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
(“Really, I’m truly very sorry my toddler screamed for the duration of the Nativity play and you felt the need to gesture towards the exit whilst mouthing, “Go on, go!” to me…”)
    Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
(I’ve been invited for a playdate by the friendly, succesful, popular mum from school today. Don’t stuff this up, don’t stuff this up… LATER… “Why did you have to punch her little one in the face and poo on her carpet Ben?! Just why?!”)
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
(Really, I don’t give a sh*t anymore. Whatever. Where’s my Gin?)
    If all men count with you, but none too much;
(“How many of those Gin’s do you think she’s actually had? Bless her…”)
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
(The unforgiving minute?! It’s the unforgiving 2 hours between 5pm and 7pm I think you’ll find!)
    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
(That’s a little optimistic, maybe 20 seconds if I was late meeting my friends at the pub…)
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
(Really…?! Does that mean that I actually own Hugh Jackman and Robert Downey Jnr?! #Winner)
    And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
(Well, I do think that would’ve made my life slightly less complicated and stressful had I been born with a Penis. Maybe next time…)
img_4464-1

After exhausting himself by laying the picnic blanket out on the sand, Daddy stopped for a well earned rest whilst Mummy watched 3 children on a vast expanse of Beach. “Mummy loves being on holiday boys, she gets to run around after you in a different location. A change is as good as a rest they say!” – Daddy, August 2015.

 

Follow:

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

CommentLuv badge