Customer service par excellence

Just had to blog about this. My sister in law, who is living with us at the moment, went in search of a coat last weekend as she is used to much warmer temperatures. After a night of tracking through stores, she found a nice one in one of the large, well known stores here in Canberra (rhymes with liar). The sales assistant who did the sale informed her that as she had spent over 75, she was entitled to a box of chocolates (part of their mothers day promotions). My sister in law made a comment about how nice that was and (wait for it) the sales assistant looked at her and said "Oh, do you think so? You ARE already having to buy plus sized clothes". I AM NOT JOKING!!!! Now, my sister in law is a nice, polite person and just took the chocolates and walked away. I would have taken the chocolates, eaten them and shoved the empty box up the shop assistant, but I have never claimed to be a nice person. Be careful out there, people. Customer service in a shop still seems to be an optional thing.

Pepsi max extreme parenting

I have a new extreme sport for anyone who is tired of base jumping, black water rafting or bungee jumping. It's called "take your children shopping". Not for the faint hearted and make sure you have a good pack with you, filled with survival gear. Also make sure the wills of all of those involved are up to date, as by the end of the day there is an excellent chance some may not be coming out alive. One of my private theories about why children behave the way they do is that it is to ensure parents age rapidly so they can get their hands on your money whilst still young enough to have fun with it. Take this past weekend as a little example.

We went out to the local farmer's market on Saturday, where the kids had a lovely time, running around and looking at all of the fresh fruit and veg etc. It was one of those great family days where you are happy to be a parent, you can grab a nice coffee and feel that you are, in your own little way, getting back in touch with nature etc. Don't laugh - there is an aging hippy inside all of us. On Sunday we had an expedition to one of the local shopping malls as I am in dire need of new clothes. I am happy to announce that I have dropped 3-4 dress sizes - the down side of this is literally that. Everything is now looking suspiciously like a tent I have nicked form the local army depot or I am spending a lot of time hitching my baggy pants up. Sexy. So, hi ho, hi ho, it's off to the clothes shops we go...

Now, I have developed a dislike of shopping for clothes, as for the last ten years every time I tried something on I felt as though I looked like a hippo with a bow tied round it. Still have the odd hippo moment but they are getting a little less extreme. Throw 3 children into the mix who don't really want to be there and shopping for clothes starts to make the Olympic decathlon look like the easy option. Gone were the happy little cherubs of Saturday. In their place I had the tantrum pants brigade (aged 9, 6 and 2.5) who, it seemed, were hell bent on driving Tim (my husband) and I completely bonkers by 10.30am. First shop, I found a few nice shirts, in between refereeing fights between the kids and telling them to stop playing hide and seek in the clothes racks. I had the audacity to want to try these clothes on, which resulted in me receiving a lot of "help" and the ensuing riot in the change room meant that I it took me more time to try on 4 shirts than it takes for me to drive through peak hour traffic to work in the mornings. Tim was trying his best, but the officious 16 year old on the desk would not let him come in to the women's change room. I get the very distinct feeling that the other ladies suffering through the whole experience with me would have been happy for Tim to have seen them completely naked if it meant they did not have to listen to my kids giving a convincing impression of wildebeest stampeding across the plains. We made our purchases and left the store, calling time out for a quick snack and a drink (water for the kids, brandy for Tim and I) and on we went.

Let's just say things didn't really improve all that much and by the time we hit the last shop (we only went to 3) my youngest was screaming like a banshee and my middle child was so off his head that people were looking at him as though he was "special". I knew it was well and truly time to pull the pin when the long suffering sales assistant assured me that if I didn't want to try things on, that "was absolutely fine. You can just return them if they don't fit". Translation "please leave as you are scaring the normal people". In the end, I got some nice new clothes and I know that my blood pressure mediation is working well. Next time I think I'll just take a rhino with me - much less trouble and much quieter.

just a quick note - to those of you who feel that you need to recommend books/lectures/videos to me on how to be a better parent and to effectively discipline my children, don't bother. Have read/attended/seen my fair share. My kids just were not in the mood to be human last weekend. We all have days like that. Kids are just much more open about expressing it. Adults cover it up with grumpy looks, stomping through the office and smacking the photocopier. Much more mature.