I could be a YouTube star (From The Northern Echo)

I could be a YouTube star

11:06am Thursday 23rd June 2011 in Mum At Large By Ruth Campbell

I HAVE to be careful of everything I say and do in our house. I feel as if I am under constant surveillance.

For round every corner, there are boys, lurking, with mobile devices capable of capturing every sound and movement and transmitting it halfway around the world.

Should I trip over the cat and fall flat on my face or make the mistake of singing and dancing along to Lady Gaga on the radio when I think no one’s watching, it could be on YouTube within seconds.

Now, thanks to the fast-moving world of new technology, they can make me look ridiculous without me even trying.

Roscoe took a picture of me the other day, which he put through a process called Fat Booth. “Look Mum,” he said. “This is what you’d look like if you lived on a diet of burgers, chips and milk shakes.”

Staring back at me was a huge, smiling morbidly obese woman with no neck and about ten chins: “I’m going to put that on my screensaver,” said Roscoe. Charming.

The boys were also able to show me what I’d look like if I was bald and also if I was very old. I wanted them to try to produce an image of me looking young and gorgeous, but they said they couldn’t do that.

“It’s only a mobile phone, Mum. It can’t work miracles.”

They tape me when I’m harping on at them to tidy their bedrooms or clear up their mess in the bathroom and play it back with a voice distorter, making me sound like I’m singing, quacking like Donald Duck or drawling in a deep and very, very slow monotone.

Either way, it’s difficult to take what I say seriously. And, day or night, there’s no escape from their hi-tech devices and constant monitoring.

The latest craze is a sleep talking recorder. When they set this particular application on their phone and leave it to record in a bedroom, it will only activate when there is significant movement or sound.

It always makes fascinating listening next morning. Roscoe was talking about finding an electric wire he needed to fix. Patrick muttered about the number four and something about a system meltdown.

And Charlie announced: “I’m a bit tired. Come on tough guy.”

When they tried to tape me one night on my own, while their dad was away, the phone didn’t pick up a sound. Not a rustle of sheets. Not a murmur: “You must sleep really deeply,” said Roscoe.

“Either that or I’m practically comatose after running around after you lot all day,” I told them.

But they’re not giving up. “We just caught you on a bad night. We’ll keep setting it up again until we get something,” said one of my young amateur sleuths.

I’ll keep you posted...

FIFTEEN-YEAR-OLD Patrick is supposed to be studying for exams. On Sunday morning, after a long lie in, he was moping around at 11.30am doing nothing.

“Patrick, aren’t you supposed to be working?” I asked him as I started to prepare a chicken for lunch. “I was just going to wait until after lunch, it’s nearly 12,” he said. “But lunch isn’t going to be until about 1.30pm or 2pm,” I told him. When we sat down to eat at 2pm, he still hadn’t done any work. “I thought I may as well wait until after lunch,”

he said. He left the table and went to his room to study at about 2.30pm. At 3pm I saw him in shorts and T-shirt heading out the door: “I’m off to play tennis,” he announced.

“But aren’t you supposed to be studying?” I asked. Patrick looked indignant. “I’m allowed a break, aren’t I?” he said.

‘THERE’S no good food in the house,” complained Patrick, who is constantly hungry, for the umpteenth time. He likes to eat several cans of cold custard one after the other, followed by a few bowls of cereal, as a snack between meals. I was on my way to do the supermarket shopping, which I usually do on my own, and William, 19, home from university and ravenous, asked if he could come too. “Buy good food,” shouted Patrick as we drove off. “Can I pick some stuff for us all?” said William, enjoying the novelty of selecting food off the shelves and not having to pay for it.

So, for a change, I let him half fill the trolley with the sort of food I wouldn’t usually buy. We arrived home with a student banquet – Fray Bentos meat pies, six boxes of chocolate covered cereals, cakes, biscuits, cheesecake, several large tubs of custard, six large pizzas, fizzy drinks and milk shakes. Patrick was overwhelmed when he saw it all. “It feels just like Christmas,” he announced.

My poor, deprived boys...