Tag Archives: parenting

Let That Be A Lesson To You – The Story of a Saturday Morning.

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A morning with the house to myself. I sleep in and make a lavish breakfast that no one asks me for a bite of. I roam the internet with abandon, even though there was a beautiful day at the door. I do all the things that seem like indulgences to those with children, and like a regular Saturday to those who don’t. You lousy ingrates.

I hear the hound; whimpering and wailing and tearing around the property. ‘Cat’, I think. But his behaviour persists long after any cat would stand for this nonsense. Then I hear it; not one, but two sets of scrabbleclaws raging around in my kitchen.  I storm through the house with those footsteps you use when Someone Is In Trouble.

And there she is; Otto’s Girlfriend. A Pitt-Dober-Weiler with a belly of saggedy nipples.  As I approach her she takes off, hauling her heft over my 6 foot fence. She’s had a lot of practice at this, you can tell. Otto is naturally forlorn at the hand love has dealt him – she was delivered to him, his dream girl of questionable morals, only for her to be taken from him as quickly as she arrived. He has not spoken to me since.

I tell him that no nice girl has even had to haul ass over a fence to escape a boys mother. And then remember, I have been that girl.

Which has produced the pervading thought: NEED TALLER FENCE.

It’s Like Torture. But Worse.

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I spend an inordinate amount of time singing to the children. This is often not of my own volition.

Theo: ‘Sing the dog song!’

Mabel: ‘YEAH, SING IT MAMA!’

Alice: ‘How Much is That Doggy in the Window?’, I ask.

‘NO! NOT THAT ONE!’, they roar in unison.

Alice: ‘…what other dog songs are there?’

I know where this is leading.

Theo: ‘The Dog Song!’

Mabel: ‘THE DOG SONG, MAMA!’

Alice: ‘Oh. You mean, as always, The Elmo Song. But about a dog?’

‘YES!’

(The things I have sung this song about, I couldn’t begin to tell you. Well, I could. We would meet at a bar and talk about our days; you’d tell me about the project you were working on before we combed the emails The Person You Flirt With had sent you for cryptic nuances. And then, when it was my turn I’d say, ‘Well, today I sung the shit out of The Elmo Song. For 8 hours. Oh, you don’t know it? It goes like this…’)

Alice: ‘This is the song, la la la la, The Dog Song. This is the song, LA LA LA LA, THE DOG SONG!’

Alice: ‘Now…what do dogs like?’

Theo: ‘Food!’

Mabel: ‘STICKERS!’

Theo: ‘No, no, NO, Mae-Mae! Dogs DO NOT like stickers!’

Mabel: ‘Oh.’

Alice: ‘And why not? I thought that was a good suggestion.’

Theo: ‘Because the dog has claws! They aren’t like hands! He couldn’t get them off! He wouldn’t like stickers!’

Alice: ‘Oh, yes. I see. But don’t you think the dog could just enjoy looking at the stickers?’

Theo: ‘…But…his claws!’

Mabel: ‘…the dog likes flowers now.’

Alice: ‘Are we all happy with that?’

‘YES!’

And we take it from the top.

For the rest of the day.

Six Foot, Seven Foot, Eight Foot, BUNCH!

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We always have the radio on in the kitchen. We listen to some old time a.m station. It soothes me.

Harry Belafonte’s ‘Banana Boat’ invariably comes on once a week. It is one of the songs the children and I can agree on. Hearing him sing ‘Hides the deadly/Black Tarantula’ makes me happy in a way it is hard to explain. It’s just one of those songs that makes you feel better no matter how you are feeling. It is worth listening to veritable hours of ads for life insurance and naturopathic treatments for erectile dysfunction just to hear that opening Day-O while I am loading the dishwasher or neutralising whichever turf war has broken out between the insurgents.

Theo: ‘I like that song. It’s by the Wiggles.’

 

You See What I’m Working With?

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It is bed time. But someone had a nap today.

Mabel: ‘Mama, lie down. Close your eyes.’

I comply. She pries them open.

Mabel: ‘Say you like it! Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. I’m the Christmas Mae-Mae. Open your present, Mama. It’s a flower! Here, this is Theos present. No, don’t open it! Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Look it’s my bum!’

Surprise! It’s Death!

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Theo: ‘The snake is dead, Mama. He was our friend.’

If you have ever wondered what happens when you leave a worm on a piece of tissue, under the lid of a roasting dish, in the midday sun, let me tell tell you now that I think your energies could be put to better use on experiments that do not conclude in a lavish burial ceremony.

(It was like, crisp, you know?)

Don’t Mess With The Best Dressed.

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Alice: ‘C’mon, Mae. Time to get dressed.’

Mabel: ‘No! I am a nudie!’

She says with just as much flourish as you are imagining.

She holds up a range of dresses; each briefly modeled before being flung to the floor.

She selects two socks; both of pink stripes, but unmatched.

‘Mae-Mae wear deez socks!’, she informs me.

I dump her on her bed of pink flowers.

Alice: ‘Alright then; let’s get these socks on’.

I’m hopeful.

Mabel: ‘No! I want to wear them on my eyes!’

So she does.