Monday, 19 January 2009

It Always Rains on a Monday

Woke up late at 6.45 to the sound of drumming rain. Put on kettle, feed the cat, gave my Daughter a call, made the coffee and had my fag. Daughter storms down the stairs, why didn't I wake her at 6.30! Now she's late! It seemed churlish to point out at the time that registration isn't till 8.45 and the school is 8 minutes walk away. It wouldn't have done any good, believe me.

Got daughter's breakfast ready and ran bath. Called Son but knew there was no chance of life until 7.30. Same with Husband. Its like two different shifts in this tiny house. The early's and the lates'.

Get in bath. Can't be arsed to wash hair. Start dreaming of my next fag. Daughter screaming behind the door, asking me where her locker key is (?), along with cat trying to get in so she can drink from the toilet. No wonder these bloody animals get ill!

I drift off. How did my little girl get so unlovable? I mean, don't get me wrong, i love her to bits but she really is at an age where only a mother CAN love her. I was the same at twelve and a half. Lumpy, spotty, greasy - with a personality to match. Not the shouting so much. More of a mumble through yellow teeth. (sadly some things stay the same).

I mean even the "golden children" , as my pal calls them, go through this unlovely stage. Before they bloom and look like teenagers in those American high school films. They have to look and act dreadful first.

Get out of bath and dry self. 7.20 am. I could sneak downstairs and have a crafty fag before waking Husband up. But not so, Daughter demands she gets dressed now and that I brush her hair. She has a pony tail now to prevent our mates the nits from making a return visit.

Manage to sweet talk her into waiting till 7.30 when daddy will be up. I have to go into the bedroom to get her clothes out of the airing cupboard. Nearly trip over Cat.

Half a fag then make lunch for both kids. Son comes down with tussled hair and Husband demands he goes to the barbers. Smoke the rest of fag.

Brush daughter's hair. She screams. Put tea tree oil in Son's hair. He screams. Ask if Son has done homework, he screams again. Find a really cool carrier bag (co-op biodegradable 6p!), he demands a lunchbox. Point out kindly that every lunchbag we fork out for ends up at school most of the week, smelly and forgotten.

Daughter disgusted at carrier bag proposal. She is class eco-rep. Find her a pretty bag I got from the St Margerets Fair. Won't see that thing again. That will be in her locker until the summer holidays. And of course, its pissing down with rain. Will have to be the car. Start dreaming of when they were little and you could strap them in and restrain them. Now, its less hassle getting the cat into her bloody box.

Son still hasn't got socks on yet. Have another fag break.

6 comments:

French Fancy said...

Once in a very little while I imagine what my life would have been like if I had indeed taken the plunge, settled for a second-best man (Mr FF came on the scene when I turned 39 and I didn't want to be a middle age mum - even though at that time he was still only 24) and had kids. Then I read your blog and cast up a million thank yous to a being I don't even believe in.

I know mornings like this are to be balanced against those wondrous moments one reads about - mother/child tear rending bonding - but I think I'll just embrace my childless state. I'd never have managed to kick the fag habit with mornings like this. It's bad enough standing outside in sub-Arctic conditions with two yappy dogs waiting for them to go 'on the paper'.

Anyway, selfless mother creature - you've been tagged.Come on over and then you'll probably curse me (I know you're busy)

x

Mean Mom said...

There has been more than the odd occasion, when I've wondered why I bothered having children, but mostly I wouldn't be without them. Our 3 lads have caused us more than a little trouble and strife and continue to, in some ways, even though they are no longer youngsters. They know it all and have to find out everything the hard way. As my mother-in-law says 'You never stop worrying about them, you know!' No, you don't. They make sure of that!

This was a great post. A true slice of life and I really enjoyed it. I think I might take up smoking. It sounds as if it helps. ;0)

Jennysmith said...

Oh no, FF, i hate it when people put pressure on women to have children. It really isn't' everything in life as people make out. I envy your quality of life.

Will look at my nice tag in a minute.

Yes, MMM, light up that fag and the screaming doesn't seem so loud (thats what someone told me at a Smoking Quit Group - i lasted one week there).

Thank you both for your lovely comments. xxxxx

Henry the Dog said...

Jenny - my mum just LOVES your writing and looks forward to reading your posts - you never disappoint but that was the best yet. My mum is of the French Fancy school of thought - thankfully childless. What you don't know, you don't miss - that's what mum says. Have a fag for her, she could kill or one at this moment in time - it's been one of those days. xxxxx

Suburbia said...

Oh Jen, I feel for you!! Keep puffing love :)

Thanks for your visit

Sx

A Confused Take That Fan said...

Jeez - that stage at 12 sounds painful. I remember it. The awkward stage, not a girl, not yet a woman thing going on , only with sweat glands starting to work. Nothing quite fits right in your body. Bless her. Mad me laugh, could just imagine a morning in your house. Very funny.