Well as it is generally known amongst my friends and arresting officers my mantra is "Any day without a stabbing incident is a win", which at first people laugh at but then they meet my family and the "unattainable goals" conversation invariably follows, it is with this in mind I think of my poor friend stuck crying in the bathroom while one demonically possessed child calls her a "meanie pig" and the other just destroys beloved possessions. While I am forever grateful for the phrase "meanie pig" (which incidentally I may use on the employee appraisal section of my next performance review), I also have some advice for my friend whose only crime was the desire to shit unobserved...There's is absolutely nothing wrong with planning revenge on your children.
It was an idea that my first husband and I developed when Rain Man was a toddler, neither of us believe in hitting children and after Rain Man had rampaged through the house and subjected us to many prolonged hours of SAS style torture (this kid was born knowing to go for soft tissue areas), My first husband turned to me and said "On his 18th Birthday I am going to jump out of a wardrobe or something and beat the crap out of him...of course I'll be old and he'll be in his prime so I'll leg it afterwards but it'll be worth it" and with that statement a bit more magic entered this jaded old world.
I call it my Revenge Diary, but while I may forget social niceties and to cook food before serving, all my tactics are so firmly etched in my mind that I have no need to write them down. I look forward to my son nervous before his first date, and when I go to kiss him good bye and lean in, screw up my face, gag and say "Oh my god you have BIN breath", or the first meal he cooks for us when he moves out, so painstakingly prepared, which my first husband and I will claim has dirt in it, refuse to eat, up end the plate and throw a chair. We shall also phone him up in the early hours of the morning and scream for no explicable reason, unmake all the beds in his house and piss around his toilet rather into it. You may think this sounds a little uncharitable but these ideas have all been lifted directly from him.
Now he is older and his foul treatment of us isn't so easily translatable I have had to diversify my revenge portfolio a little, this year alone he has earned himself (to be delivered at age 15) when his friends come over me wearing a t-shirt of his favourite band (ill fitting of course) singing along and dancing, being the mum who tries so very hard to be cool, and of course my First Husband and I being extremely candid about our sex life.
So to my unit bound friend, grab an exercise book and a pen and plan on how you will get those little bastards back...
Tuesday 24 May 2011
Thursday 5 May 2011
A Day in the Life: Tuesday 2nd May
Snapshot of Tuesday 2nd May:
The Nazgul was starting her first music class that morning, she was pretty subdued being a new situation and I even managed a few smiles (to and from) a couple of the other parents. Unfortunately I quickly established myself yet again as the parent who gets way too into it (plenty of woos and hair whipping dancing). Cue the loaded silence as I look up after a particularly enthusiastic song from me, to see all of the blonde, lycra-cladded, surgically enhanced Mums staring unblinkingly right at me. Luckily this being my 2nd child I am used to public humiliation. Unsurprisingly, there were no "how old is your daughter? Are you from around here? Have you been here before?" comments afterwards.
Then I was forced to do that weird jog thing that only big boobed woman can do, around the super market because My First Husband was/is having one of his mental fits and refusing to the drive car so we can't do the groceries (I can't drive). As a result I needed to get something that required no prep to give some Mums from school for lunch and then to arrive home before they got to my place with enough time to wipe the sweat from my brow, brush my hair, safely put The Nazgul to bed and then practice smiling and murmuring “Oh no really it was no bother at all”. They arrived about 4 ½ mins after I did and came in very quietly so not to wake The Nazgul, however this unnecessary because she was in the middle of the kitchen, wearing a raincoat, stinking of shit, licking individual pieces of pasta and putting them back in container, while doing her infamous screech whenever bed, taking the raincoat off, nappy changes or stop licking that bloody pasta was mentioned. Fortunately for me the unaccustomed find the screech quite confronting so I did not feel the need to explain why I looked like Tim Minchin or offer any insight into the workings of The Nazgul.
CUT to trying to get into the house after school pick up where, Rain Man over excited by getting a book in the post, grabbed the mail off the pram knocking it backwards, which started The Nazgul screaming (who by the way was standing on porch tearing up my pap smear results) this sent Rain Man psycho. Of course they did this while I was putting in the alarm code, I stuffed up the numbers and set the alarm off which made the little mental patients scream even more. So there we stood in full view, with the alarm blaring, them screaming and me desperately hammering on the alarm keypad as my brain melted and I completely forgot how to shut it down.
40 mins later The Nazgul was still chucking fits over every single thing that happened, so being the model parent I am I retreated into facebook (to some beautiful souls who peer-pressured me into this blog) but it came at a price, putting ABC kids on the TV and allowing The Nazgul to coat me, herself and my brand new mohair/wool jumper, in zinc based sunscreen. Unfortunately what I forgot was that while I was doing this I had turned my back on Rain Man for an entire 10 mins, I had asked him to get out of his uniform. Obviously I was not specific enough because when I turned around he was getting extremely into Play School, while jumping like a deranged orangutan and thus grinding all the sultanas that The Nazgul had spread over the floor into the rug (I estimate based on the debris that it was 2 packets worth), still dressed in his uniform. Realizing my folly I rounded him up, made him get changed and start his home work. This prompted The Nazgul to decide that climbing onto a chair (now wearing a beanie with the tags still attached), dancing and singing (in baby language) to the Smiths was the way to deal with her brother's struggle with calm.
At this point I asked My First Husband via text to pick me up a bottle of wine. It was while I was pondering whether to knock myself up a nail polish remover and meths aperitif that I heard the beeps of a series of text messages hitting my phone. Due to The Nazgul's proximity to the phone and my reflexes being dulled by years of aperitif's, she intercepted the phone and proceeded to hold it in front of her shouting "HI YA", when the phone failed to give the appropriate response she stared at it, grinned, shouted "OOOPS" and threw it forcefully on the floor laughing as the back, battery and phone flew in different directions. By now Rain Man was bouncing on his seat, twitching and saying "Can you stop her screaming? It is starting to really annoy me" (thanks Son, I look forward to you having your own toddler and repeating this useful and inherently calming phrase back to you). When the phone was finally reassembled it immediately began ringing, imagine my unbridled delight as My First Husband frantically declared that he had had to leave the bottle shop because he went in to get the wine but there were all these bottles and it freaked him out. I guess I'll never know whether it was my diplomatic and charming response to this statement, the sound of The Nazgul and Rain Man in the background gearing up for a new and ingenious attempt to make me scream till blood came out of my ears or his deep-seeded (and completely unjustified) fear of me in all my shoe-throwing glory, but he had a change of heart, faced his newly acquired fear of bottles and the world was saved.
The Nazgul was starting her first music class that morning, she was pretty subdued being a new situation and I even managed a few smiles (to and from) a couple of the other parents. Unfortunately I quickly established myself yet again as the parent who gets way too into it (plenty of woos and hair whipping dancing). Cue the loaded silence as I look up after a particularly enthusiastic song from me, to see all of the blonde, lycra-cladded, surgically enhanced Mums staring unblinkingly right at me. Luckily this being my 2nd child I am used to public humiliation. Unsurprisingly, there were no "how old is your daughter? Are you from around here? Have you been here before?" comments afterwards.
Then I was forced to do that weird jog thing that only big boobed woman can do, around the super market because My First Husband was/is having one of his mental fits and refusing to the drive car so we can't do the groceries (I can't drive). As a result I needed to get something that required no prep to give some Mums from school for lunch and then to arrive home before they got to my place with enough time to wipe the sweat from my brow, brush my hair, safely put The Nazgul to bed and then practice smiling and murmuring “Oh no really it was no bother at all”. They arrived about 4 ½ mins after I did and came in very quietly so not to wake The Nazgul, however this unnecessary because she was in the middle of the kitchen, wearing a raincoat, stinking of shit, licking individual pieces of pasta and putting them back in container, while doing her infamous screech whenever bed, taking the raincoat off, nappy changes or stop licking that bloody pasta was mentioned. Fortunately for me the unaccustomed find the screech quite confronting so I did not feel the need to explain why I looked like Tim Minchin or offer any insight into the workings of The Nazgul.
CUT to trying to get into the house after school pick up where, Rain Man over excited by getting a book in the post, grabbed the mail off the pram knocking it backwards, which started The Nazgul screaming (who by the way was standing on porch tearing up my pap smear results) this sent Rain Man psycho. Of course they did this while I was putting in the alarm code, I stuffed up the numbers and set the alarm off which made the little mental patients scream even more. So there we stood in full view, with the alarm blaring, them screaming and me desperately hammering on the alarm keypad as my brain melted and I completely forgot how to shut it down.
40 mins later The Nazgul was still chucking fits over every single thing that happened, so being the model parent I am I retreated into facebook (to some beautiful souls who peer-pressured me into this blog) but it came at a price, putting ABC kids on the TV and allowing The Nazgul to coat me, herself and my brand new mohair/wool jumper, in zinc based sunscreen. Unfortunately what I forgot was that while I was doing this I had turned my back on Rain Man for an entire 10 mins, I had asked him to get out of his uniform. Obviously I was not specific enough because when I turned around he was getting extremely into Play School, while jumping like a deranged orangutan and thus grinding all the sultanas that The Nazgul had spread over the floor into the rug (I estimate based on the debris that it was 2 packets worth), still dressed in his uniform. Realizing my folly I rounded him up, made him get changed and start his home work. This prompted The Nazgul to decide that climbing onto a chair (now wearing a beanie with the tags still attached), dancing and singing (in baby language) to the Smiths was the way to deal with her brother's struggle with calm.
At this point I asked My First Husband via text to pick me up a bottle of wine. It was while I was pondering whether to knock myself up a nail polish remover and meths aperitif that I heard the beeps of a series of text messages hitting my phone. Due to The Nazgul's proximity to the phone and my reflexes being dulled by years of aperitif's, she intercepted the phone and proceeded to hold it in front of her shouting "HI YA", when the phone failed to give the appropriate response she stared at it, grinned, shouted "OOOPS" and threw it forcefully on the floor laughing as the back, battery and phone flew in different directions. By now Rain Man was bouncing on his seat, twitching and saying "Can you stop her screaming? It is starting to really annoy me" (thanks Son, I look forward to you having your own toddler and repeating this useful and inherently calming phrase back to you). When the phone was finally reassembled it immediately began ringing, imagine my unbridled delight as My First Husband frantically declared that he had had to leave the bottle shop because he went in to get the wine but there were all these bottles and it freaked him out. I guess I'll never know whether it was my diplomatic and charming response to this statement, the sound of The Nazgul and Rain Man in the background gearing up for a new and ingenious attempt to make me scream till blood came out of my ears or his deep-seeded (and completely unjustified) fear of me in all my shoe-throwing glory, but he had a change of heart, faced his newly acquired fear of bottles and the world was saved.
Tuesday 3 May 2011
The Cast
The Crap Housewife: President and founding member of the Crap Housewives Association, extremely qualified in the role, Career highlights include - Stapling as a form of hemming, completely cooking all moisture out of a potato, and dubious parenting behaviours such as paying son $10 to leave her alone. Also as you will note in posts, is never, ever, ever in the wrong. Currently played by Christina Hendricks (Well I dye my hair red and have big boobs, and like anyone in cyber space is gonna know the difference).
My First Husband: Also current and only husband to the Crap Housewife.Could be termed a lovable eccentric but that would be a fucking lie, he is an acerbic mental case who is hell bent on driving the Housewife insane. They have been together for 10 years and he is yet to stop talking.
Rain Man: The first born of the Housewife and the Husband, so named because when things go wrong he has the tendency to over-react in the same way Dustin Hoffman over-acted in the crap 80's film Rain Man. At present Rain Man is seven years old and appears to have no short-term memory and yet can monologue about computer games for upwards of 3 hrs.
The Nazgul: The 19 Month old daughter of the Housewife and the Husband, so named because she can screech like a Tolkien creature whenever she is displeased, the housewife quite often checks the Nazgul's back to see if she is indeed carrying a ring-wraith.
Together this mentally unbalanced group form the basis for a bizarre daily sitcom that no one really gets but kind of likes because watching them makes everyone feel better about themselves. There maybe a snap-shot of the Crap Housewife's day every week or so, or maybe just the bitter ramblings of someone who just doesn't understand when to shut up.
My First Husband: Also current and only husband to the Crap Housewife.Could be termed a lovable eccentric but that would be a fucking lie, he is an acerbic mental case who is hell bent on driving the Housewife insane. They have been together for 10 years and he is yet to stop talking.
Rain Man: The first born of the Housewife and the Husband, so named because when things go wrong he has the tendency to over-react in the same way Dustin Hoffman over-acted in the crap 80's film Rain Man. At present Rain Man is seven years old and appears to have no short-term memory and yet can monologue about computer games for upwards of 3 hrs.
The Nazgul: The 19 Month old daughter of the Housewife and the Husband, so named because she can screech like a Tolkien creature whenever she is displeased, the housewife quite often checks the Nazgul's back to see if she is indeed carrying a ring-wraith.
Together this mentally unbalanced group form the basis for a bizarre daily sitcom that no one really gets but kind of likes because watching them makes everyone feel better about themselves. There maybe a snap-shot of the Crap Housewife's day every week or so, or maybe just the bitter ramblings of someone who just doesn't understand when to shut up.
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