So I brought up a contentious topic with Old Father Thames yesterday morning. Unavoidable row with unsatisfactory result and all before 0945 hrs. We walked through the rain, from the house to his office, him voice raised, me following, berating him for lack of support in a parenting issue, followed at an indiscreet distance by our Nanny with a plastic apron draped over her head. Must have been a comical sight to all/any flies on wall.
All this because Riversprite was very rude to Nanny and particularly to me, as we attempted to tidy her room yesterday.
This because home-schooling hell involves attempting to open her bedroom/study door a chink in weekdays where she sits on floor with her back to it, laptop on lap, logged into Google classroom whole place flowing with squalor. Crisp packets, entire boxes of mini rolls ripped open and eaten and chucked on the floor. Odd pairs of dirty socks. This week it had to be tackled. As I pushed open the door and surveyed the interior I was reminded of my mother writing to me, eons ago when I was at boarding school, shortly after the start of school term.
“Darling I had to tackle your bedroom yesterday and I almost needed a pitchfork and shovel. It was a most dispiriting experience and you must please try to keep things tidier”. Perhaps the only advantage of boarding school these days would be that children go away for significant periods of time and you actually can get into their rooms?.
So we went in with metaphorical wheelbarrow, shovel, dusters and rubbish bags and she was notably rude, even for her – sulky, thunder-faced and insolent to the Nanny. After, she went to the kitchen where OFT was making an egg mayonnaise sandwich, wielding Hellmans and peeling the shells of the hard boiled eggs. Incredibly ,instead of raising the issue as expected, he spoke sweetly to her and offered her some. So typical of OFT. Never any question of back up. Smarmy git.
But back to the row. It followed the usual wearisome format. OFT will not stand still for any form of confrontation. The moment he realises he might be engaged in anything approaching a disagreeable conversation he begins to walk away and I (or whoever) is obliged to follow, speaking to his back. So, he strides out of the house to his office his voice raised speaking into the wind and rain. Me following behind, voice not raised trying to remember the key points of a conflict resolution course I once took, but nonetheless firmly making my points.
Me: “You did not support me in ticking her off for being rude to me and the Nanny as we attempted to tidy her room or in asking her to keep room tidy going forward. I would have expected you to back me up” etc.
Him: “Well I wasn’t in on the room-tidying episode and did not see or hear what she said or did not say so this has absolutely nothing to do with me”
Me: “But you should be supporting me in letting her know what behaviour is acceptable .. (etc etc) aren’t you concerned her room is a pigsty and she home schools sitting on a grubby duvet and school say work not being done properly?”
Him: “I am not going to be told what to do or think by you, I wasn’t there, didn’t hear her being rude and if she wanted some of my egg mayo sandwich so what? I shall speak sweetly to her if I like. The room tidying was your conversation with her, not mine and I did not like the way you shot her a venomous look in the kitchen”
The absurd thing was that all this while, Nanny who was en route to the coffin deep freeze chest to retrieve food when row began, was following us. The indiscretion of the woman! I glanced behind as if to say ” er….not a good time why don’t you melt away?” but she is shorter than me, had head lowered against the rain and came determinedly on, wearing a plastic plastic apron draped over her head, strings flying in the wind.
He plonked himself down at his desk and stared angrily at his laptop. As the exchange continued Nanny calmly went to the deep freeze at the far end in the same room, lifted the lid and started rummaging around.
This had the effect I had to stop making my points (in a calm but assertive manner) and turn away from OFT to face her, giving her a good, hard look. Meanwhile he continued as if she was not in the room. Raised voice. “No! it was your spat with her, not mine. No, I am not going to get involved etc”
I was silent half turned away from him, looking at her fixedly and did not answer. She eventually began to look aware. He, staring straight ahead thought I had finished. That I was chastised. That he had “won”.
Ouch. that won’t do.
Cold air blowing into the room.
He said triumphantly, “Now will you please shut the door as you leave”
As I turned back to him I accidentally knocked a can of Raid fly spray off the table onto the floor. It made a loud bang then skittered across the stone floor the white, pressy bit flying off. He looked down at it aghast.
“I have not closed the door as I am waiting for X to finish in the freezer and go out” I said calmly. Only now did she look up then potter through the usual beatific smile on her face bearing a loaf of frozen Allinsons wholemeal. “Nice hat” I said as a nod to the draped apron.
Door shut, row resumes. “But I am telling you that is what happened. You should be supporting me in bringing our daughter up to be polite.” etc etc And so it went on.
All this so very early in thd day. Sigh. The thing is life with OFT permanently at home is simply not something any of us are used to. It was so much easier when he was out at work. The combination of semi retirement and lockdown is indeed a heavy load to bear…..
The River Files 