Despatches from a mother who started late (and is running to catch up)

In the deep

As regular readers will know, I love being a mother. Having two small daughters has brought immense fun and joy into my life. I've never been happier than when larking about with the family at home, messing about in the kitchen, pretending to be airplanes or some such nonsense. But this blog serves many purposes. One of which is an opportunity to vent. So I want to talk about one of the more frustrating aspects of parenting. This is something worse than being accidentally head-butted by a toddler. Even when they catch you bang on that sensitive part of your face, just above your top lip. It's harder - even - than getting yourself and two small children out of the house. Before lunchtime. It's more wearing on your nerves - gasp - than listening to 'controlled' crying and not rushing in to pick up the baby. All of these ordeals exact a terrible toll on parents. But none can compete in terms of sheer anguish with my greatest bugbear. The disappointing 'family day out'.

Expectations at the weekend were high - in retrospect, dangerously high - as elder daughter Beanie and I set off  across the water from Edinburgh to this place. It is one of this country's top tourist attractions. The website showed amazing displays of fish. Beautiful, multi-coloured fish. Fish with names worthy of them. Like French Angel Fish, Domino Damsel and Green Chromis. Yellow Saffin Tang and Zebra Lyretail Angel. They come from all over the world, these fish.

The place is meant to be fun. I have heard only Good Things about it from my comrades-in arms. Namely, other parents. I was excited. So was daughter. She picked out for the occasion her best and favourite handbag, from Cath Kidston - a gift from one of her godmothers. And filled it with provisions worthy of a North Sea mariner. Raisins. Ham sandwiches. A banana. Then repeated to me from her car seat eyrie: "And we are going to have a treat?"

Daughter did not like the place. Did not like the trains whistling overhead on the Forth Rail Bridge at the entrance. Did not like the wind roaring in off the Firth of Forth. Did not like the hand driers in the toilets (possibly because reminiscent of above-mentioned wind). Did not like the crowds of other children. Did not like the fish. Did not like handling the starfish or sea urchin at the demonstration.

She did - with some reluctance - consent to walking on a travellator (like the ones you get in airports) through the underwater tunnel. Sharks circled overhead. Pretty cool, huh? And she liked the ice cream in the cafe. But overall, our expedition - not a great success. It turns out, however, this was neither my fault - nor Beanie's. Nor any fault of the place itself. Next day daughter began complaining of a sore throat. "Mummy, my tummy hurts". She must have been feeling grotty with the lurgy when we were on our day out. But didn't say. For fear of missing out on her treat. Poor Beanie.

Posted 17 March 2009 23:20

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