It is time to face facts, even for a toddler, the Nazgul is just plain weird. Around Crap Headquarters we are pretty used to some of her more interesting behaviours and don't really blink when a new one crops up, after all we are usually busy wondering why Rainman is biting his own shoes or trying to black out the last 3hr soliloquy on Pokemon. This week she has been ill and has developed a penchant for carrying around, what can only be described as "security cheese", this is a small piece of cheese that she has no intention of eating but is comforted by carrying it around until it has bred enough bacteria to ensure intestinal damage, and then attempting to force feed it to me.
We have become accustomed to the fact that the Nazgul prefers to communicate largely in sound effects and a series of intricate hand gestures that are bordering on interpretive dance. But ultimately we are reliant on The Screech (from which springs the inspiration for the moniker "The Nazgul") and our ability to interpret it's varying pitch in order to understand what the Nazgul wants. I actually didn't think she was "that bad" (My first husband and I now have the catch cry of "well at least she is not as bad as Rainman was at this age") until today, while I was talking to a friend (and proud owner of 3 small psychopaths of her own) The Nazgul didn't get it's own way and therefore subjected me to the shriek, my friend thought it was so hilarious that she asked me to video it and that's when it hit me...no, not all kids do this, just ones I have sculpted (I should had a few clues that perhaps we were breeding something rather special here, when we went to a sleep centre when the Nazgul was 10 months old, and the nurses who had spent 40+ yrs in the industry heard her down the corridor and said "What the hell is that").
So onto today where I managed to hit a new parenting milestone. The Nazgul was particularly displeased with having to wear trousers to pick up Rainman from school, we had already had a WWE style wrestling session trying to get them on her and I was walking down the street pushing a pram containing a convulsing, shrieking little wreck who was pulling her shoes and socks off (she lists hurling shoes onto busy roads as one of her hobbies) when a group of Asian women were startled by the sight, or more accurately - the sound, of us. One actually made movements to cross the road with the same look on her face as if there were a pack of demented wolves roving the neighbourhood but then had a better idea, she stayed and one of her friends filmed the tantrum. Yes, bask in my awesome parenting, my kids are now so badly behaved members of the general public video their antics. When I told My First Husband about the incident, he just said "Did you tell them to fuck off*?" in such a way that I suspect he had seen this coming.
So hold on for the next youtube sensation "Dangerously unhinged white baby"
*Please note, this is a pretty standard response from My First Husband, who one day announced "You know a stranger is just someone I haven't told to fuck off yet"
Monday 22 August 2011
Thursday 11 August 2011
Danger Words
This morning as the Nazgul force fed me a grape of indeterminable vintage, I got to thinking about how being alerted to imminent danger has changed. In the past, the warning of potential hazards and unsafe situations was pretty standard "Fire", "Run" and "Last Drinks" being the most notable. While the word gravity is now positively sinister, it is more of a slow creep than one that immediately freezes the bowels and makes legs twitch.
It has become accepted around Crap Headquarters that the word "igh-ees" (rough English translation: eyes), is usually immediately followed by a sharp poke in the eye and corneas scratched by sharp, dirty little fingernails and shrieks of delight from the Nazgul. In a similar vein, hearing the mutterings of "busybee, busybee, biz biz, busybee" is pretty much a sign to head for the fallout shelter, it is the signal that the Nazgul is rampaging through the house destroying then coating the debris in sunscreen or moisturizer. Recently I was trying to send a text message when I heard the dreaded mutterings to look up and see the Busy Bee sculling soy milk (football hooligan style) while attempting to key the glass doors. Busy Bee also has a penchant for throwing things into the bath (particularly electrical goods), putting popcorn in the toilet and ramming herself into the protective barriers we have placed around everything until she can get close enough to the TV to attempt to key that. I am not sure where she got the idea that a Bee is a vandalising serial killer but it has caused me to add one of those suits that police dog trainers wear to my birthday wish list.
The Busy Bee is not the Nazgul's only alter-ego. We often have prolonged assaults from "The Little Cat", who plays the sociopath to the busy bees psychopathology. The warning bell for the appearance of the Little Cat, is the Nazgul crawling up to you on all fours going "Ahhh Ahhh", then crash tackling you in a head butting frenzy of over enthusiastic kisses, cuddles and general unbalanced love, the Nazgul cuts an elegant figure with the body shape of a front row forward so this little game always ends with a shriek and an agonised "GENTLE, WE DON'T HURT MUMMY". Unfortunately, the main characteristic of the little cat is that is doesn't heed any advice, instruction or pleas for mercy. In the past fortnight alone, she has attempted to decapitate me with the broom on three occasions, attempted to tear my earrings from my ears daily and I suspect has caused life long damage to my septum with the kisses.
The reinterpretation of danger words is not the Nazgul's doing alone, Rainman has the superhuman ability to make a noise that can instantly induce rage in the listener. I am sure some sinister military agency will one day synthesise this sound to play at enemy insurgents - a modern version of the fabled 'brown note". This noise is usually an indication that you will turn around to find Rainman punching his own shoes, pulling at chunks of his hair or biting his own trousers leaving you on the verge of the parenting faux pas of screaming "What the fuck is wrong with your brain?". This is not the most dangerous or most psychically damaging of Rain Man's sounds, as soon as he utters the words "Pokemon", "Munchkin" (some overly complicated imaginary game he plays with his friends) or spies, you know that you are in for a 3-4 hr monologue which eventually degenerates into a nonsensical diatribe or argument (recently he claimed he had already completed some spy training as he had medical knowledge and went into a rant about 'clerics' and healing, when I gently mentioned he was talking about something made up from a role playing game, he had a fit that he was talking about the real world not a game and became so frustrated he was almost frothing at the mouth).
Similarly, I am alerted to danger from My First Husband when he says "Hi, I am home", but that is another post entirely.....
***The Crap Housewife would like to apologise for the delay in posting, she has been under constant terrorist attack in the form of an imaginary bee and kitten and has not emerged unscathed from the encounters. However she makes no apologies for the spelling and grammatical errors, she just can't be arsed***
It has become accepted around Crap Headquarters that the word "igh-ees" (rough English translation: eyes), is usually immediately followed by a sharp poke in the eye and corneas scratched by sharp, dirty little fingernails and shrieks of delight from the Nazgul. In a similar vein, hearing the mutterings of "busybee, busybee, biz biz, busybee" is pretty much a sign to head for the fallout shelter, it is the signal that the Nazgul is rampaging through the house destroying then coating the debris in sunscreen or moisturizer. Recently I was trying to send a text message when I heard the dreaded mutterings to look up and see the Busy Bee sculling soy milk (football hooligan style) while attempting to key the glass doors. Busy Bee also has a penchant for throwing things into the bath (particularly electrical goods), putting popcorn in the toilet and ramming herself into the protective barriers we have placed around everything until she can get close enough to the TV to attempt to key that. I am not sure where she got the idea that a Bee is a vandalising serial killer but it has caused me to add one of those suits that police dog trainers wear to my birthday wish list.
The Busy Bee is not the Nazgul's only alter-ego. We often have prolonged assaults from "The Little Cat", who plays the sociopath to the busy bees psychopathology. The warning bell for the appearance of the Little Cat, is the Nazgul crawling up to you on all fours going "Ahhh Ahhh", then crash tackling you in a head butting frenzy of over enthusiastic kisses, cuddles and general unbalanced love, the Nazgul cuts an elegant figure with the body shape of a front row forward so this little game always ends with a shriek and an agonised "GENTLE, WE DON'T HURT MUMMY". Unfortunately, the main characteristic of the little cat is that is doesn't heed any advice, instruction or pleas for mercy. In the past fortnight alone, she has attempted to decapitate me with the broom on three occasions, attempted to tear my earrings from my ears daily and I suspect has caused life long damage to my septum with the kisses.
The reinterpretation of danger words is not the Nazgul's doing alone, Rainman has the superhuman ability to make a noise that can instantly induce rage in the listener. I am sure some sinister military agency will one day synthesise this sound to play at enemy insurgents - a modern version of the fabled 'brown note". This noise is usually an indication that you will turn around to find Rainman punching his own shoes, pulling at chunks of his hair or biting his own trousers leaving you on the verge of the parenting faux pas of screaming "What the fuck is wrong with your brain?". This is not the most dangerous or most psychically damaging of Rain Man's sounds, as soon as he utters the words "Pokemon", "Munchkin" (some overly complicated imaginary game he plays with his friends) or spies, you know that you are in for a 3-4 hr monologue which eventually degenerates into a nonsensical diatribe or argument (recently he claimed he had already completed some spy training as he had medical knowledge and went into a rant about 'clerics' and healing, when I gently mentioned he was talking about something made up from a role playing game, he had a fit that he was talking about the real world not a game and became so frustrated he was almost frothing at the mouth).
Similarly, I am alerted to danger from My First Husband when he says "Hi, I am home", but that is another post entirely.....
***The Crap Housewife would like to apologise for the delay in posting, she has been under constant terrorist attack in the form of an imaginary bee and kitten and has not emerged unscathed from the encounters. However she makes no apologies for the spelling and grammatical errors, she just can't be arsed***
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