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Thursday, 25 June 2009

Early Morning Munchies

My dad has come to stay for a couple of weeks. It's great entertainment. First day in he asks me where the sultanas are.

"In the cupboard where they always are" I reply. He's been many times and knows his way round the kitchen.
"There's a jar and a new bag" I add
"No there isn't "
I produce said bag and decant into a new jar, show him the jar and where it is located.
"Well I didn't eat that this morning"
Well you have to ask don't you.
" What did you eat"

Dried pasta apparently.

Tuesday, 23 June 2009

Are you looking at my bottom? Clearly not

Today I walked part way to school with Shera, as I often do, to give the dog a quick airing and opportunity to scare the local Squirrel community. I often am a couple of paces behind Shera as she walks incredibly fast, or may be she is just trying to get away from me. This brief walk of all of 10 mins can often include her talking at high speed ( See art of conversation posting ) and lots of nodding from me. But not to day. I have upset her. Over my bottom. If anyone should be upset over my bottom it should be me.

Why should she be upset over my bottom? Because dressed in only bra and knickers working up a sweat this morning whilst trying to get ready for work her clock fell off her bedroom wall. She couldn't fit it back so there I was balancing on a chair putting it back for her when jokingly I turned around and said " are you looking at my bottom? " which I then repeated for comedic effect a couple more times as everyone knows that repetition is a key part of comedy. I also did a couple of over dramatic turns with lots of hair swishing. Clearly a comedy moment if ever I saw one. Well clearly not in this case. Like I said I have upset her over my bottom and believe me if anyone should be upset over it I should be me. Are you looking at my bottom?

Monday, 22 June 2009

Boy 0 - Mum 1

I know that I am going to regret posting this almost the minute I press the publish button but sometimes you just have to. After a few weeks of struggling with He man I think I have cracked him. Cracked as in broken him down, got him to comply with my rules, I am the winner! I could become a chief interrogator and torturer after the past weeks as I didn't crack and kept to my main aim - utter compliance. Unless you count the numerous bottles of wine consumed to get me through the ordeal and the tears down the phone to my sister at the sheer pain of having to live with a mumping teenager. What is it that they do that just cuts you to the core? The look, withering, the speech, snarling, the mood swings, the silence I could go on.


The secret was a total multi media ban coupled with complete withdrawl of motherly support ( read taxi driver, all round skivvy, cashpoint ) with an added grounding. First take the confiscation of the PS3 to the tune of I don't care. This was quickly followed with a ban of PC and therefore no MSN. As India Knight has already declared that regardless of the number of GCSE's my child may or may not get he'd still be unemployed at the end of it all so no pc access didn't make me feel so bad. Besides I had bought him all those revision guides that were gathering dust on the study floor. The final blow was the mobile phone. This last piece of confiscation coup de gras was also accompanied by the I don't care theme tune that can be heard quite readily in my home. It is usually accompanied by percussion aka door slam.The confiscation of said phone was for nearly a week and even though He man was grounded and therefore had no social life its impact was disproportionate to its size. The flouted grounding on the first day by doing paper round until ridiculously late and then hanging out to play football with mates till late merely meant I added an extra day to the ban without telling him. This also worked a treat and comes thoroughly recommended. Don't have a shouting match about something they've done. Wait until they are on the back foot and want some thing from you and strike then. The impact is much better. I realise that I am now approaching my teenagers wilderness years with some what of a military style, we're talking tactics, manoevres and clearly there can be only one winner. What on earth am I doing!? These are the fruit of my womb not the enemy. Although the repeated playing of theme tunes has been a military tactic used in the past the I don't care theme tune in my house is a tactic the kids have introduced not me. I am under enemy fire and am responding accordingly. Doubtless having posted this my smugness will be short lived and the sales of cheap wine will rocket at the local store but surely I am allowed to gloat in a little bit of mummy glory. Teenage boy 0 - mother - 1

Friday, 19 June 2009

Porridge Pubes

In an effort to save money, thanks India Knight thrift book, I decided to exfoliate using one of her recommended methods. This was so I could put Fake Bake on my peely wally legs ( that's whiter than white ). Previously I always found I would decide to do fake tanning application when I was either very tired or having drunk one to many vinos. Result: disastrous. This time I was going to get it right. first exfoliate. Bring on India and her top thrift tips. Use porridge oats in the shower, smells nice, is cheap, always to hand in our house and job is a good un. So I thought. when I looked down said oats had collected in my pubes in a lovely porridge triangle and took bleedin' ages to get out.

I bet they don't have that problem at the tanning salons. Still my legs looked good afterwards and I smelt very porrdigey. Sugar or honey with that?

Thursday, 4 June 2009

Work Experience

Heman is doing 5 days work experience at a major high street fashion retailer . I am hoping that it will be the kick up the bum he needs to start working at school to get a better career etc. I'm not sure it is working though. On Monday he moved stock from one floor to the other and played spot the teenage mum, made friends with unsuitable older role model who crashed out of uni and bummed around ever since, he was very tired ( read grumpy gnark pants ) when he came home. The upside was we had civil, fun even, conversation ( before he became tired and grumpy gnark pants ) . I had my lovely boy back. On Tuesday he moved the stock back again, got accidentally locked in a store cupboard, used his mobile phone to ring for help and then promptly had it confiscated, panicked went AWOL looking for intelligent best mates dad ( don't ask ) to get it back for him, played spot the Fat angry women, arrived at my work very late to take him home and was very grunty and annoyed that he couldn't then fit in revision and playing football and go on PS3 ( cos I need to RELAX ) in the space of 20 minutes. Wednesday, after trying to throw a sickie, he pretended to be Mexican, moved stock around again, was allowed to tag things, got told off for rolling his eyes but was prompt to meet me. Thursday started with a blank refusal of ever going to work at that Sh*thole again, driving to work in complete silence. Thursday afternoon I get an email to tell me that he had been sent home from work. Yet again my child is the only one who can never seem to do a simple task. I am the mother who has hung her head in playground shame on to many an occasion and has gone late to collect said child to avoid the tuts and silent glances. This all stopped at high school but I fear as the teenage hormones kick in that it is all about to start again. On the other hand when I find out that the said high street retailer has failed to keep any student more than 2 days and he lasted 4 I didn't feel so bad. They also admitted that they hadn't had much time to give him any attention I felt even less bad as they had cocked up not my boy ( well kind of ).

After much ringing around, hey I've got nothing better to do in my highly stressful job, I got him a job at work... Only to find that he had organised himself a job elsewhere. I was impressed he had shown initiative. All be it he would be working in a night club during the day getting the stage ready for a gig that night, all of which took about half an hour and then he came home, he thought that kind of work was brill. Even better he doesn't need qualifications for it so why bother trying at school. My head is in my hands.

the art of conversation

Heman grunts, She-ra mumbles or talks so fast Ican't keep up with her. Take yesterday for instance. I managed to prise the butt cheeks of younger child to go for a post dinner walk around the park with dog. Despite her reluctance the moment we had set foot out of the house she started talking.And never shut up. I tried desperately to keep up with what she was saying, glad that she was at least taking the time to talk to me ( at me ) but I couldn't keep up. The conversation kinds of goes " youknowmyBFFwellIhateherandmyotherBFisdrivingmenutsandMRxatschoolisapratandIcan'tspeaktoBFno3becauseshe'lltellBFF.... " I am losing the will to live. Either I made the wrong "yes I understand " noises and at the wrong time, asked her to repeat it again too many times, got friends names wrong or just basically DON'T UNDERSTAND. Plus she speaks in text jargon. Not only that but the speed of lateral thought was incredible. I would be trying to get in my head why she didn't like so and so and she was already on friend analysis number 3. KEEP UP MUM. I give in. I just need to practice my nodding and oh yes's and she'll never know. All the same I would still listen to her just to get the chance to have some sort of connection.

Heman just grunts. Or he shouts. Shouting can happen when you ask a civil question like " what are you doing tonight? " Or "please pass the bread". Grunting occurs all the time. Schmoozing happens when we want money, to get back the PS3 after shouting, not doing homework.

Someonee needs to write a guide book with transaltions bit at the back, The lonley planet guide to teenagers.