Fitting in with Earth Mothers
You know how there is always a 'cool kids' group - they were the ones in primary school who had the scented pencils and rubbers, the ones in senior school who had cigarettes and knew what a blow job was, the ones in university who had a dealer and knew the meaning of 'Indie' - actually anyone who was at uni in the 90s will know that it means Independent Label - bands that didn't sign with EMI or the like.

Anyway, after education has finished and you hit the real world there don't seem to be as many 'cool kid' groups…until you have your own children.

My first experience was at a mother and toddler group. I'd tried ones held in the local church hall but they were full of mothers wearing stained tracksuits and fleeces and children who screamed when they didn't get their e-number juice.

So I decided to go a little up-market.

The local eco-friendly, knit your own yogurt parent/care-giver and small unique, precious, talented individual of few years group.

For two hours I would sit around with my twins attempting to fashion angels from pine cones and tufts of raw wool collected from hedgerows. Other parents (all wearing Birkenstocks, hand knitted yurts and full face hair) calmly sang Icelandic folk songs into the small ears of their own Jocasta, Iphigenia, Fred or Ezekiel as they made their beautiful creations.

Then we all drank organic apples juice and ate some freshly baked bread - if you were a regular you could help to make this feast which I believe carried the personal yeast of Majorie the group leader.

Afterwards we sat around in a circle, children upon our laps or wandering around freely - if they chose to because an unhindered child produces a free and unrestrained personality at one with the universe - and we sang more folk songs. If we were really lucky we might get to sing 'The Wheels on the Bus' but that was generally frowned upon because of the pollution and high carbon footprint of any combustion engine, however, it was community transport so that made it okay occasionally.

The last time we were allowed to attend my sons were going through phase of being extremely curious about their world - Marjorie encouraged this initially.

Only a few days before I'd had the firebrigade out to my house because they'd set the chimney alight - long story, yes we had a fire-guard, no they were not alone - I was in the kitchen, and you wouldn't believe how early the inventive and cooperative gene sets in with twins with destruction on their minds.

They decided to investigate the fire extinguisher - presumably they'd learnt their lesson and had now become safety conscious, at two years old.

Marjorie wasn't happy when her hand knitted dogs' hair jumper got ruined.

Neither were the other parents.

Fire extinguisher foam stains natural fibres.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:29, 13 replies)

Compost them alive!
It's the only language they understand!
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:32, closed)

Hahahaha
Well said CHCB.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:37, closed)

damn you
that made me snort
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:49, closed)

beat them to death...
with their own "ethically-sourced hand-woven from local-hemp by skilled third-world craftsmen" sandals, fill their throats with organic hummus, rammed down with a folk-art digeridoo, brand them with a red-hot dreamcatcher and bury them head-down in their own compost, before setting fire to their feet using their copies of the Guardian as kindling...

It's harsh, but it's for the best.
(Chad, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:51, closed)

I hereby nominate
the Chicken Nuggets for sainthood. Sounds like Marjorie needed a bit of toning down anyway.

Please tell me that you at least laughed. I would have.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Tue 20 Jan 2009, 13:58, closed)

^^ Seconded!!
I would have laughed! Imagine the smell!
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 14:18, closed)

Fuck that.
You needed three things:

1) A hose-pipe
2) Black tape
3) A 1-foot length of lead pipe

Step 1: Break both of her knees with the pipe.
Step 2: Drag her out to the carpark. (Get your children to help, hell, it's a great bonding exercise)
Step 3: Fix the hosepipe to your car exhaust, taping it firmly to avoid any of the "horrible, nasty pollution-fumes" from escaping.
Step 4: Break both of her arms with the lead pipe.
Step 5: Shove the other end of the hose down her throat and rev the car, hard.
( Cawl, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 14:07, closed)

Actually
you can leave the lead pipe wedged between the accellerator and the seat, depending on the size of the seat. And remember to leave a typed suicide note explaining that she did it to stop her having second thoughts and having to go back to that godawful group of hippies. Signed- badly- in her own blood.

Printed on recycled paper, naturally.
( uberdeity Wondered why Owen Lars knew of the term "hell" on, Wed 21 Jan 2009, 13:58, closed)

*click* for this ^^^

Especially 'cos they sound like "Modern Parents" from Viz magazine
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Wed 21 Jan 2009, 14:02, closed)

Whilst I take more than a passing interest in eco-friendliness...
The ecomentalists have become the Jehovahs Witnesses of the noughties - except that they've got the ear of government.

If the ecotwats and government were to quietly ban the sale of polluting cars, restrict polluting industries and build better and cheaper railways I'd be fine with it. Really I would. I'd be here saying "Isn't eco-mentalism really a good thing?".

Instead it's all "Green Taxes" this and "Carbon Footprint" that, they insist on shoving down my throat ever more ludicrous charges, taxes and costs which bear no resemblence whatsoever to actual damage done to the environment by my choice of transport while enthusiastically building more runways and unveiling plans to tax people on the number of trees on their property.

Even then they have the cheek to charge me £200 a month for a rail ticket to stand on a cramped, late train that smells like a urinal for an hour a day.

Hang 'em all with hemp rope.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 20 Jan 2009, 14:20, closed)

Trains
Don't get me started.
I have a friend in Lincoln I haven't seen in years but have kept in touch with. With the government promoting the use of public transport whenever possible(unless of course you're a Jabba-The-Hutt-esque ex-MP with 2 of a certain brand of vehicle), I decided to look into taking the train. After all, it's bound to be the fastest and cheapest isn't it? No. If I took the train it'd take me around 3 and a half, hours, with 2 changes to get there, and 4 to 4 and a half hours with 2-3 changes to get back. It'd cost me more than £50 in train fares too. Alternatively I can take my own car, leave whenever I feel like it, and expect the journey to take 2 and a half to 3 hours each way, I don't have to sit next to a mentalist (unless I invite him along for company), and I actually save money.

Big fuck off to National Rail from me then.
(7inchcodpiece, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 16:44, closed)

on a slight tangent
I look after two kids of 3 and 2. I took the youngest to a tumble-tots thing this morning (nowt fancy, just an hour on foam mats in the local sportsplex, but it is in a very posh area of Edinburgh...ie all of it.)
Out of twelve kids, there was a Ramsay, a Silas, two Sonnys, a Milo, a Roland, a Marvin (for the love of Christ, why do that to a kid?) and an Arwen.
I hold little hope for the next generation.
(jennymnemonic, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 17:45, closed)

Mine were playing rugby at the weekend
against one of the local private schools.
Will, Henry, Rory, Edward, Gus, and all the dads were called Dave, Andy, Tim, Paul. I bet amongst the mothers there was even a Tracey.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 20 Jan 2009, 17:56, closed)