Month: October 2013
Spatchcock anyone?
I was on Facebook this morning. The place it go to boost my self esteem (I look at my vast friends list and feel popular)! A dear friend from my school days was bemoaning her epic fail in roasting spatchcock in her flash new combo oven. Feeling sorry for myself as I don’t have a combination oven i went to my lowly kitchen (sans aforementioned combo oven, sans a good cook too – but that’s another story) to make a coffee. Being a responsible mother I glanced into teenage sons bedroom to see if “it lived” and saw the site of a terrible massacre.
We recently acquired a kitten, part Maine Coone, with a bag of dog food at the pet store (but that’s another story). I think, fits in the family well – it’s as mad as a March Hare. We also have an older ginger tom. They hate each other, As hiss and roar at each other often – as all good siblings do…….. Chicken ( as known as Count Nickolai) gave Alex a gift….. a small gift; a small fledging. Around 6.00 am I heard some furious jingling (his “effective” bird collar). I thought he was playing with his toy de jour (socks) and snored on gracefully.
I have never seen so many feathers…… tiny, wee fluffy baby bird feathers in abundance ….. there’s no feather famine here. Alex groggily awoke to my gasp of horror and looked around the crime scene. There was much laughter as the perpetrator sat by the bedroom door looking proud of his achievement. He had left his “token of love” at the foot of Alex’s bed, but the feathers he had spread not unlike a bed of rose petals leading to the room of his beloved. The jingling made more sense now. Alex exclaimed that he too had heard the furious early morning jingling, but thought it too was a sock being tossed happily the air. Nay, Nay said the Chicken it was my token of love.
Traumatised I made a coffee and went back to bed, it’s Sunday and people in moon boots don’t operate vacuum cleaners any day, let alone on the sabbath. I issued instructions to the boy to clean up.
“Mum” he yelled from his room “I think he wants me to roast it – it’s plucked bare.”
“Spatchcock anyone?” I asked to dulcet tones of the vacuum cleaner and the boy bemoaning “there’s even feather’s in my wallet!”
Extreme Parenting – Hostage Crisis in small town New Zealand
This week there was a hostage crisis in small town New Zealand. There were no armed offenders squads, cops or negotiators to be found. Stealthily like an over weight ninja I awoke at Dawn’s crack ( which not pretty if you knew my friend Dawn ….. Err soon to be ex friend! ) With all the stealth I could muster , followed by one white Bichon (suffering from a paranoid delusion of abandonment) and a schizophrenic kitten that thinks it is dog we captured the tv remotes and most criminal of all were the play station controllers. With steely reserved I kept my beeearch face on until they did their chores ….. Huge list really:
Open Curtains: Accompanied to the dirge, “why it’s not fair” credited to the famed composer Idontgiveashitzie
Make Bed: Accompanied by Heavy Metal band “I’m only gonna sleep it agaaaaaain tonight”, release of album “But mum…..” Expected in the new year.
Pick up and put clothing in the appropriate place: this is an operatic piece. “Do as you are told.” (Falsetto from stage left); Alex’ baritone from stage right “get off my case get off case get off it!” Brandon (Soprano) “I’m not touching his undies I’m only doing mine. Don Charlivani’s “Do as your mother says” reverberates through corridor.
Mum sings in falsetto: ” Just do it, do it and your beloved shall be yours. Yours alone yours alone!
Victory is mine! Ninja mums rule. Hostages released – crisis averted.
Tears, tantrums and Lorazepam
This is it, the blog I’ve been threatening to write in one way or another for years! This week there have been tears, tantrums and lorazepam in this house and I’m proud to say I am responsible for all of them. As you know the world revolves around me. After all I am the “giver of life” well actually money. I am the life source, font of all funding and am answerable only to him above (and I don’t mean Him, but him, the pilot)! Actually, I’m not really answerable to him, but I like to let him think so and that keeps me one step ahead of the bastards!
Tears: I don’t like housework. I like it even less when bathrooms, teenagers, wet towels and tiny short curly hairs are involved. The tears were all mine, first of horror at the state of the bathroom – there’s something alive in the shower box I tell you! Seriously, at night I hear it weeping! The tears were then of frustration as the girlfriend of #1 did not rush to my aid as my legs swayed under the weight of a hundred wet towels (why would she, Geordie Shore was on – really I am amazed by my own stupidity sometimes). The tears were then of anger as I staggered forth and she sighed whilst I briefly interrupted her view of the telly. However I had the last tears of laughter when I wrote a poem for the bathroom, which was received the all teenage angst it deserved.
It reads:
When you bathe or shower, you may lose foliage from your personal bower. Whilst it is entirely natural to malt in the nether, I don’t want to pick it up ever. When this bathroom you do depart, clean up your pubes and don’t fart!
The poem was met with some amusement by #2 who explained it to#3 but #1and #+1 did not find it so funny. In fact the day after #+1 packed a sad and left!
The bathroom remains a jungle more dense that deepest darkest Africa but with some areas of minor deforestation.
Tantrums: Him, the pilot may be meeting Him the maker pretty soon if he doesn’t stop the 50s housewife bullshit ……. He says all I do all day is sit on the sofa and watch telly. In return I glibly proffered the excuse that maybe whilst I watched telly the towels washed themselves, the shopping fairies brought groceries and left them all over the bench for him to put away. Furthermore did the laundry walk itself to the tub and who did he think tidied up. “No one” he said and I then had to have a tantrum whilst he swept his arms around the wreck of the Hesperus and said “I’ll get the vacuum cleaner shall I ?”
I yelled after him, ” and bring me a lorazepam I’ve had a stressful day on the sofa!”
Post Cards from the Edge 