…But I still don’t know their names!
This Saturday is the Midland Moblog Meet. Mobloggers from all over the UK are traveling to Birmingham to meet up have a few drinks tell a few stories and obviously take a few photos.
BUT here’s the thing, on moblog with names like Sir Findo Gask, Filbert Fox, Baggie Boy, SWMBO…how the hell am I supposed to know what to call everyone??
…Or “How I just realized I’m a grown up”
On Monday I had the day off so in an unusual fit of productiveness instead of spending the day sat right where I am now in front of the computer I actually did some housework, I tidied the blonde kids bedroom or using its correct name the “dump”.
Now that in its self did nothing in the way of convincing me that I’d grown up, my mom had been making me tidy up after myself since I was the blonde kids age, No, all that did was reinforce my own belief that when my son grows up and marries his wife will be as long suffering as my mother was with me because he’s a messy little shit too!!
What made me feel OLD was what came afterwards. In the process of sorting out the abundance of k’nex and marbles and matchbox cars and books and comics and dirty socks and I don’t want to even hazard a guess at what the pink thing was from under his bed, I came across a copy of Roald Dahl’s “George’s Marvellous Medicine”. I’d bought it ages ago with the intention of reading it to him chapter by chapter as a bedtime story…thats was until he decided he was “too old” for stories at bedtime and passed up on “Curling up with Mommy-Time” for “DVD-Time” or “Can I stay up later if I promise to go straight to sleep later-time!” and forgotten all about it.
So I decided to get my monies worth (all £2.99 of it, it was the paperback edition). I decided that I should spend some quality time with my son that doesn’t involve shouting, running around, jumping on beds, digging up the garden, painting him blue (don’t ask I only did it once and lost the photos and now he wont let me do it again!) or winding up James and resurrect the whole bed time routine now he’s old enough to appreciate the book, not just the cuddles, and started to read it to him.
I am distressed to report that it is this storybook that has made me feel OLD and all grown up!!
Tonight was the second installment, we’ve been going great guns and have already got to the part where Grandma grows so tall she breaks through into the attic of the house. BUT while the blonde one sat there staring at me wide eyed with wonder at all the whooshing and fizzing of the medicine being prepared (apparently I do good sound effects), and commenting with admiration at the courage of the 8 year old George for standing up the the mean nasty bitter grandmother, and looking at it the way a 7 year old who has never had to stand up for himself his entire life would, George must look pretty brave, all I can think is “Naughty little bastard”.
And that is why I feel old….instead of the wonder and excitement of the story I remember from the first time I read the book myself all I’m worried about is I hope Jordan doesn’t get any ideas!
I hope I don’t get up in the morning to find my bath full of lotions and perfumes and shampoos and food stuff and paint and not that I keep horse tablets in the house but I’m sure he’d find something as an alternative in a reenactment of the story!!
Not that I seriously think he would, but we are talking about a kid who keeps a log called “Loggy” as a pet in the playhouse at the bottom of the garden so it wouldn’t be a great leap for his imagination to be stretched that little bit further and for him to try!
So now I feel old and like a proper “parent”. Worrying not about what has happened but about what possibly could happen IF my son loses all sense of himself early one morning and lets his imagination run away with him!! Tisk!!
I was going to read him “James and the Giant Peach” next but then started worrying that maybe “Loggy” would metamorphise into a human sized caterpillar and he’d run away with it and not love me anymore!! So maybe I’ll forgo it for something less paranoia inducing like “Topsy and Tim”
I thought cats were supposed to have a superb sense of balance and always land on there feet. Well not this STUPID SOD!!
Judywudyawah has recently taken to sleeping on the back of an arm chair, which I wouldn’t mind if she didn’t insist on dribbling and molting EVERYWHERE she sleeps. And I’d mind even less if she didn’t look at me with total contempt every time she falls off as if it were MY fault. Yes I have the only cat that for the life of her CAN NOT stay balanced once sleeping. She’s even fallen off the window sill which is quite a bit wider and sturdier than the back of the chair! AND even better she STAYS asleep until she hits the floor awakening only on impact!
I was once told she has a “fucking stupid name” well I’ve just come to realize she’s a “stupid fucking cat”. But I love her!
[edit]
I had to come back and share, Literally not a minute after I’d first published this post there was this almighty CRASH behind me and I turned to find the dumb animal had done it again…but this time into a box of “STUFF” James had bought over from his parents. She was just peering over the edge looking at me as if to say “WTF just happened!!”.
You’d think by now the amount of times she’s fallen off there she’d find somewhere else to sleep!!
Sometimes when things get too bad I have 2 options that I use to cheer myself up. Eat cake or get a hair cut.
Friday I didn’t have any cake!!
I’m told the “elfin” look is in. Which is quite lucky really because with my new shorter style (but not as shorty as last summers “lesbian” crop) I’m hoping that my sticky out ears will just give me that cutting edge pixie look that is all the rage, as opposed to looking like the F.A. Cup!
“Children who grow up without their biological father are more likely to be unemployed, commit crime and leave education early, according to research by think tank Civitas.
They are also twice as likely to be homeless.
Lone-parent families are three times more likely to live in rented accommodation than couples with children and are also more likely to live in homes that fall below minimum standards.“
That quote is taken from todays Metro. I want to find the researcher who did the study and shove the newspaper up his ARSE!!!
If it said children from, dare I say it, children from “Black” families there would be uproar “THAT’S RACIST” blahblahblah. If it said children from same sex family the cry would be for equality So why is that statement NOT considered biased???.
I was bought up in a single parent family.
My biological father died when I was only 4 my mom didn’t marry my stepdad until I was 20. I went to school passed my exams and then proceeded into further education and I didn’t have to mug any old women to pay my way. After I left I got a JOB…you know coming from a single parent family I thought I’d try and break the mould No I didn’t go on to University but hell I don’t feel I’ve missed out because of it. My time will come when my own family is older,
Talking of my family until recently I was very much a single parent too….and guess what it was MY choice for it to be that way. I walked out on his Dad, because among other reasons we were making each other VERY UNHAPPY and surely its healthier for my child to be bought up in a happy loving environment , with access to both parents just at different times, then if we’d have stayed together and torn each other to shreds daily???
YES I rent not OWN my home, but it doesn’t fall anywhere near “minimum standard” and five doors away lives a friend of mine who is also a single parent and guess what…her home is more than adequate for her and her son too, oh and some of the kids at the blonde kids school come from single parent families and guess what they all live in good homes too!! I’d love to know where these “researchers” get there information from???
Also taken from the same article
‘Having just one income is likely to affect the child.”
Erm, of course it does!!! Jordan really suffered when I was the only one bringing money in I mean hey he never got treats, he only ate Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays because i couldn’t afford it the rest of the time and he was living in my next door neighbors cousins children’s hand me downs!!
Give me a break, so he only got treated once or twice a week instead of daily and no we don’t jet off around the world on holiday once a year but we ate fresh food and got near to the RDA of fruit and veg. Hell I thought I was bringing up a well rounded happy individual not a materialistic spoilt little brat like a lot of the children that supposedly come from two parent families!!
I wonder if Fred and Rosemary West’s children thought they were getting a better deal for having two live in parents….I think not!!
Read the full article HERE
This week I have mostly been trying (unsuccessfully) to avoid family bullshit!
A rather productive way to spend your time if you just KNOW you’re going to put your foot in it and say something to offend someone if left in a room for any length of time with any of them or if you really really REALLY don’t want to get stuck in the middle of the ongoing family argument. An argument that has been simmering behind insincere smiles and just under the surface waiting for the right opportunity to raise its ugly head since before we crawled out of whatever swamp we started out life in, grew two legs, and called ourself human.
A rather difficult thing to do when your younger sister finally leaves home and distant relatives come to visit all in one week!!
I have never, NEVER known a family as dysfunctional as mine. The only way to communicate to them in a group scenario is through an alcoholic mist and twice this last week I have been confronted by the prospect of spending time in a social situation actually conversing with them!!
SCENE ONE: My sisters (how can I forget its new she reminds me every 30 seconds) house.
I was invited for the “guided tour” the day after she picked up her keys. I arrive at the allocated time (I wouldn’t even consider incurring the wrath of her fiery temper if I dared to turn up late) and (as sisters do) let myself into the front door. First thing I notice is my nan cleaning in the kitchen and my grandad putting up curtain poles in the living room waxing lyrical about how he likes to help out and he’d do anything if we asked him to. I was NOT happy!!!
Understandably so when you think that I have lived in my current house for quite some time and asked my grandad TWO YEARS AGO to help me plumb in a shower, I’ll attempt most D.I.Y. myself but when it comes to electrics AND water there is no way I’m going near it, I’m still waiting!!! My grandparents have never even been to my house for a cup of tea and here they are a day after Emma has picked up her keys, but like a good little pixie I say nothing and continue on the tour anyway
15 minutes into the visit I’m in the front bedroom being nosy out of the widow (as you do) (the house isn’t that big it took me 15 minutes to get upstairs but I was intentionally taking my time to avoid the hammering/drilling downstairs) and I see my aunts people carrier pull up outside, and not one not two but FOUR other members of my extended family pile out….I was far too sober for that size a gathering so I ran down stairs announced that I was leaving and dragged James the hell out of there!
SCENE TWO: The “local”
About once a year my mothers eldest brother graces us with a visit (he was the sensible one and moved a few hundred miles away!). So about once a year my Nan goes all gooey with wonder of all her children being in the same place at the same time. So despite the fact that many of the siblings can only just stand to be in the same room together and even more of the grandkids cant even bring themselves to speak to each she still INSISTS we all get together for food and/or drinks because “You never know this might be the last time I get the chance to see you all together”, (Gotta give her credit this little guilt trip works every time) So to keep the peace with her we are forced into playing happy families, So off the the local old mans pub we trotted like good little “Waltons”.
All things considered as family gatherings go this only ended up with everyone pissed to get over the long awkward silences that ALWAYS start the night, one person crying, as far as I know no one offended, only one broken glass and one VERY broken digital camera after it had been used as a football, so wasn’t THAT bad.
Not when you consider that the one last July, (I have managed to avoid all family occasions and in fact MOST of the family since then and was not blogged about at the time as I really didn’t want to even admit I was related to these people) resulted in 2 full scale family arguments, 2 fights with neighbors in the street, plenty of tears and tantrums…0h and an ambulance being called for one of the kids….oh sorry my mistake my aunts (now ex) “toy boy” when he fell and broke his arm while trying to piss off his “step son” playing football in the road!
But I still ended the night feeling just as, if not more so, depressed than that night back in July.
I went with the intention of pleasing my Nan, seeing my uncle and grinning and baring it, And that’s what I did with a large dose of Jack Daniels inside me but came away with the realization that with my family, even when everyone is making the effort to get along, THAT drunken haze of half hearted, souless conversation and forced smiles is as good as it gets!!