Youngest son’s football team had a ‘Fun Day’ last weekend, so we loyally went along. As predicted the only fun was had by our son; trying to see how much money he could get out of us – for him and his friend to
waste spend on ‘fun’.
The tiniest burgers inside the hugest buns were forced down by the four of us, extortionately expensive (and not that pleasant) cupcakes were purchased by me and a completely ridiculous amount of tombola tickets were bought by the boys. The lure of possibly winning a bottle of shampoo, a tiny bar of chocolate, a crocheted toilet roll cover, a plastic mug with a picture of flowers on it or a toddler’s colouring book was obviously too great.
They didn’t win any of them.
Both boys thoroughly enjoyed a game of bubble football: child is strapped into a massive inflatable bubble and then rolls around the pitch. Aim is to push a football between each other and ultimately score. From what I could see the kids didn’t give a toss about the football – they just enjoyed rolling around the pitch.
The one bit of ‘fun’ (for us) came when son’s bubble rolled over too far, got stuck and left him dangling completely upside down. I eventually managed to stop laughing enough to go over and roll him upright – but on husband’s video of the whole thing I can clearly be heard saying , “Don’t help him up until you’ve taken a picture.” Dear me, not a model mother then…
(I’d like to point out that no sons or bubbles were harmed in this incident)
The two of them hooked ducks in a barrel, tossed hoops onto sticks, kept returning to the over-priced second-hand tat stall, drank copious amounts of fizzy pop, ate vast quantities of cheap sweets and played tug-of-war…with themselves. When it started to cloud over we sent up a silent prayer to the weather Gods, then tried to sound sincere as we said, “Oh no! What a shame…we’re going to have to go.”
Trying not to smile too much we dragged them out of the queue for the under 8s bouncy castle (they’re 13!), quickly marched them past the ‘Name the (******* huge) Teddy’, swerved deftly away from the chocolate fountain that several snotty-nosed kids had shoved their fingers into – and left.
Phew! We’d done our bit for another year. Large gins here we come!
Went out for a walk and snack lunch, with hubby and one of the teens. Turned out to be one of the worst lunches I’ve ever had. Nothing to do with the company – they were lovely. But typically British.
Ordered a goat’s cheese and tomato toastie – Oh. My. God. It arrived looking like a limp, pathetic, anaemic rag. I opened it up – it wasn’t even sealed – and couldn’t believe what I was looking at. Very little I tell you! Very little! I immediately had three issues with said ‘toastie’. Keep on reading!
I’ll help you love, you know I will
It’s what I always do.
We both know I’ll be writing it,
With little work from you.
Keep on reading!
First day back at school. Was wet and windy so took pity on the teenagers and gave them a lift. Picked up eldest’s friend on the way.
Stopped at junction and waited. Eventually an oncoming driver slowed to let me join the flow of traffic. As I pulled out I turned to eldest in the passenger seat, gesticulated towards the guy who’d let me out, and said, “Smile and wave boys, smile and wave.”
Eldest was absolutely MORTIFIED. Keep on reading!
My teenagers seem to love loitering around in our bedroom and lolling about on the bed. On the whole this is fine (and actually quite nice), but at times a little privacy is required – like in the mornings when I’m rushing around trying to get dressed. So, I’ve discovered a great way to ‘nicely’ get rid of them.
I simply declare, “This is my room and I want to get dressed. I’m happy for you to stay but be warned, the boobs will be making an appearance.”
On hearing these immortal words their facial expressions change to horror, they simultaneously wail “Noooooo!” their hands shoot up to their eyes, and they both frantically lunge for the door.
Amusing conversation this morning:
Teenager (heading towards the front door): What’s for tonight’s meal?
Me (waving goodbye from the kitchen): Vegetable curry.
Teenager (swivelling round and hurtling back down the hall with alarming speed): Vegetable curry? VEGETABLE curry? Why are we having vegetable curry?
Me (wiping the table, head down hiding the smile): Because it’s not good to eat meat every day. It’s good to have just vegetables occasionally.
Teenager (starting to panic): So is it curry with JUST vegetables? Literally JUST vegetables? No meat AT ALL?
Me (smiling openly): Correct.
Teenager (using dramatic hand gestures and pacing around the kitchen): But we have vegetables WITH meals EVERY day. We don’t need a meal of JUST vegetables!
Me (walking into the utility room): Our bodies need a rest from digesting meat every day.
Teenager (following, voice rising): Who told you that?? Is that some kind of warped joke? Please put some meat in it. I can’t believe it, that’ll be horrible! It can’t just have vegetables in it. I’m not eating it. You can’t make me eat it. You can eat it. It’ll be disgusting mind. I’ll make something else for my meal…blah blah blah
Me (emptying the washer, glancing over my shoulder): I’m sorry, are you still talking? Darling, you need to go or you’ll be late for school.
Teenager (wild-eyed and stomping back to the front door): I can’t believe it! Why would you do this to me? It’s just not right. It’s…(leaving the house, with a little help from me)
Me (closing the door): Bye sweetheart. Have a nice day.
Headed upstairs, musing about tonight’s meal – Maybe I should present it as a picture, like I used to when they were little: The Mona Lisa Madras, The Poppy Field Pasanda or maybe The Sunflowers Sag Aloo? *laughed to self and tutted* Unfortunately my skills in the field of art are as advanced as my tolerance in the field of pandering to fussy teenagers. So my efforts would end up more like a Masala Mush, a Balti Blob or – if they’re really lucky – a Dhansak Dollop.
Came back downstairs, made a cup of coffee, switched on computer and typed into Google – ‘Vegetable meals with no meat in them WHATSOEVER…’
Drove home from work yesterday trying to decide whether or not to uncork the wine when I got in.
Opened outside porch door to find inner porch door wide open – am constantly telling sons to close this.
Stood on the post – lost count of how many times have asked sons to pick this up when they come in.
Tripped over cantankerous cat demanding to be fed – both boys horizontal on sofas with I-Pads glued to their hands, impressively ignoring cat’s plaintive cries of hunger (massive headphones clamped over their ears probably helped).
Shouted at them to pick up blazers and bags dumped in the lounge, and take them to their bedrooms.
Demanded to know if they’d got any homework.
Cleared kitchen table still littered with their breakfast debris.
Cleaned up cat sick – yes she doesn’t limit this just to the cat box on car journeys.
Listened to three messages on the answer machine offering me compensation money for that car accident I’d been in, the chance to reclaim mis-sold PPI and a whole set of new double glazed windows.
Easy decision really – wine was opened!