Friday, 16 December 2011

A mother's thought processes

Scene: interior of a bright, sunny, cluttered house. The radio and TV are both going and there are toys everywhere. Enter MOTHER and BABY.

Mother: Time for snoozies! Snoozy time! Yes it's snoozy time for my special little guy!
Baby: it? I was sure I just HAD a nap last week....
Mother: Oh yes it is! It's snoozy woozy time! Beddie-byes for the little guy!
Baby:...well if you say so.....

Baby is put to bed.

Mother: now to....
Mother: hush hush hush snoozy snoozy snoozy
Mother: zzzzzzzz zzzzzz zzzzzzzz pat pat pat
Baby....okay maybe I am a little bit tired... *shuts eyes*

Mother does a little Snoopy dance and wonders how many chores she can get done in the usual 40 minute nap stretch.

Mother: Shower. Dress. Dishes. Prepare bottles. Prepare dinner. Washing in. Washing out. Tidy bedroom.
Mother: shhhh shhhhhh pat pat pat more snoozies please
Baby: mmm okay I will give you a break today *shuts eyes*

Mother does another Snoopy dance and sits down with coffee and magazine.

Mother: There's a world out there apparently. What are all these cafes and restaurants being reviewed that I have never heard of? Who would wear THAT? That is a cool nail polish colour. I bet Baby would love that on me.

Mother: Holy shit. I've read this whole magazine. No noise from nursery. OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD
Mother: Oh thank fuck.

Mother: Maybe I should wake him. He won't sleep tonight. No I won't wake him. I'll get some more chores done. Or maybe I should rest. Catch up on Downton. No, chores. Right making baby food....weeding garden.....wrapping Christmas presents. Still no noise.
Mother: This is weird. Maybe he isn't well?
Mother: I am undecided.
Mother: Well they all say not to wake a sleeping baby. I'll take it as a bonus and treat myself to a second magazine. Gosh what a lucky Mum I am.....

Tuesday, 29 November 2011

Stupid things I have done #1: Join the Brownies

Back in 1987 when I was 8 and impressionable, the sight of the older girls in their cute brown pinafores with a jaunty yellow t-shirt underneath meant I began the process of whinging to Mum that I wanted to join the Brownies.
I really wanted that uniform. I don't think I had much idea what Brownies did - I certainly wasn't the type of girl to help a little old lady across the road or learn how to tie a clove hitch in a piece of rope on a quiet afternoon - but I really wanted to stand out.
Much whinging later (Mum was demurring because she remembered her own whinging to her Mother - that she wanted to quit Brownies) enrolled I was.
That year the Guides Association upgraded all their uniforms, and instead of my cute little pinafore I had a hideous green and white spotted shirt that was too tight around the collar, a pale brown tunic and a sash, that I immediately spilt yoghurt on and never cleaned off.
It was the beginning of a lot of disappointments when it came to Brownies.
First of all there was the initiation. Everyone made a big fuss and you were the centre of attention. You pledged undying loyalty to your Brown Owl and then walked around the toadstool a few times and looked into the 'fairy pool' to see the special fairy who lived in there. Gibbering with excitement I leaned over, only to see a mirror and my own disappointed face staring back at me. The first nail in my coffin went in when I grizzled to Ms. Owl that it was just ME and how BORING. I was forever an outcast.
I got maybe 3 badges - unlike the rest of the girls who had badges sewn into the soles of their shoes. I was teased for having the 'new' uniform. I was never singled out for having the shiniest badge, even after my Sixer showed me how to polish it to a high shine on the soles of our rubber shoes. She must have taken a liking to me because she chose me as her Seconder, which meant I had an extra badge!! on my sash - sewn on wonkily and immediately stained.
The beginning of the end came with Brownie camp. The fear of God was put into me when a Brown Owl stated that if anyone lost any item of clothing or personal belongings they would have to sing a song in front of the entire camp. Of course on the first night I lost my watch. Sleepless nights ensued. A hunt around the camp had the watch turn up on a side table with a Brown Owl's belongings. Did she know it was mine? A furtive snatch and grab and a guilty conscience later, I never had to sing in front of everyone.
I did however have to dress up as a lion tamer and whip a girls' butt. Yes the big event of the camp was a Circus. We were given our roles before we left for camp and for some reason Mum decided I should wear a friend's school uniform as an outfit. This friend was also a boy. So wearing grey shorts and a grey shirt - an outfit that screams Lion Tamer if ever I saw one - I met the girl who was going to be my lion. She was all gung-ho and practising her roaring. We practised our routine for about 5 seconds and as we entered the ring I realised I had no idea what to do. My lion looked at me expectantly. I raised my wand and walked around. She immediately got into character by pouncing on my wand and rolling on the ground kicking it with her back paws. Happy to leave her to the limelight - her mane of brown knitting wool was striking - we did a couple of circuits around the ring - it was deathly quiet as I remember - and made a quick exit. I could tell my lion was not pleased with me. Where were the flaming hoops and her chance for a really good roar?
I couldn't have cared less. After a couple more half-hearted Brownie meetings - we went to some old lady's house and picked up rotting grapefruit off her lawn for our 'Do a Good Deed Every Day' - I suddenly realised I could actually be at home eating Krispies and drinking Raro and watching telly.
And that was that. I lasted a whole year and I still have my sash - yoghurt stain and all.

Saturday, 19 November 2011

BATM learning the interwebs

Dad: I got this email the other day. From my friend in England. It was an Irish joke, it was so funny.
Me: Oh hm?
Dad: Yes, I have a friend in Ireland. I’m going to FORWARD it to HIM! Because he’s Irish.
Me: *facepalm*
Dad: But I can’t find the Forward button. Can you show me?