Wednesday 30 March 2011

Middle-age Grumpage

Everyone with delightful elder daughters I've asked for help so far have pulled that face (the 'don't-make-me-go-back-there!!!-face'), offered up a dish of horror stories and then kindly added 'but they come through it'. HOW MANY YEARS? HOW MANY YEARS DOES IT TAKE??? When will I be all wise and calm and philosophical???

I'm not known for my patience. When I discovered I was pregnant with Bump Number 2 I was quite furious that I had to do the whole 9 months thing. 'But I've done it before! Why can't I just pop it out now and start from there???'

'But they come through it.'

I'm really not sure I did. And that is the problem.

Skipped from teenage mutant non-speaking shirker straight to middle-age deviant shrieking berserker. I even screamed the f word at the 2 small boys today in MY MUM'S HOUSE. THAT'S how grown-up I am. Mind you I did believe that one was ripping the leg off the other with the push-button reclining mechanism of a demon armchair. Thuglet was wedged behind it trying to retrieve a hurled shoe screaming like a Tudor heretic on the rack while big bruv was blankly cruising the controls and completely ignoring all sources of yelling. I thought a couple of high decibel fucks were most definitely in order. When the phone rang later this evening I knew it was my mum checking that I hadn't driven them off Beachy Head.

It was well past time to go. Much Lego to retrieve and we were still missing 2 magnetic bees and the special self-sealing bag they live in and one mini Mini. AND I still had the doorstep challenge to endure - like the old Crackerjack ending I wobble hopelessly with bagfuls of books and DVDs and wrapped up sausages and French sticks trying to make a bolt for it before another cupboard door opens. Then I spiked up further in the car when I realised that mum hadn't changed the little carriage clock on the shelf so I wouldn't be getting home 'til 8.00pm instead of 7.00pm and I still had 5 beds to make thanks to the reappearance of the nitty noras. Sigh.... Tossed in a few more sulky fucks for the road.

Poor Minx doesn't really stand a chance does she?

6 comments:

  1. I should be commiserating with you but I'm now reminiscing about Crackerjack. I used to envy the lucky kids with the piles of gifts, so overloaded they had to stick the Crackerjack pencil up their jacksy. Happy memories.

    My inlaws have a demon chair too. Bloody lethal thing in baby poo green dralon.

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  2. dig's mother had a swivel king. we all had fun on the swivel king. i miss the swivel king. it had such retro charm.

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  3. I want a swivel king.

    Whatever it is.

    Actually what I really want is to know if that photo of you in the corner is anything like you...or are you 20 stone with a lady Di haircut and a fondness for country and western music.

    Er...did I just say that out loud..?

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  4. Crackerjack!!!!!! Crackerjacksie? Maybe that was the original title? Nice.

    Swivel king? Are we back on jacksies? Swivel on THAT!!!

    I LOVE C & W!!!!!!!! Really I do. This is why we have to live somewhere with no neighbours. But obviously I am a 6 foot waif with tousled chestnut locks and sticky-uppy pert boobies. Oh yeah.......

    (Dammit - if you're going to Hesfes this year I'm gonna have to hide..... if you hear strains of Steand Bah Yowre Mayn you betta run gur!!!!)

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  5. HESFES attendance looks likely. But you'll just be one of a whole field full of weird and erratic women, so I think your identity is safe.

    And of course I will be attending in my spiky fish suit, as always.

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