This Little Piggy Went To Market

Two weeks into the summer holiday, and somewhere along the way my job title changed from "Mother" to "Servant".  By Saturday morning I'd had enough and was ready to launch into which ever offspring pushed the wrong button first, which in this case happened to be Lindsay. I had asked her to empty the dishwasher - one of her few appointed tasks for which she gets paid the big bucks each month. I thought once she had done that, it wasn't a big stretch of the imagination for her to then place the dirty plates and mugs sitting on the counter into the dishwasher. I must have forgotten to switch on the flashing neon sign, because when I entered the kitchen a while later, after completing my umpteenth load of laundry, the dishes are still on the counter and Lindsay is reclined in front of the TV.  That was enough to send me into a tailspin, and I launch into a rant. "When I was your age, I had 3 part time jobs, taught a first aid course, helped with the housework, yadda, yadda, yadda. Meanwhile you can't even think to put dishes in to the dishwasher etc etc". When I get on a roll, it's hard to stop.

When I had finished with Lindsay, I cast a baleful glance around to see who would be my next target and I spied my pencil sharpener sitting on the dining room table. Right, so Grady it was. "Grady" I hollered "Get down here. What is this ?" I said, smacking the pencil sharpener down on the table to make a point, but before he had a chance to open his mouth, I continued "It's my pencil sharpener, that's what it is. What is it doing on the dining room table?"  Again, before he was able to answer, I carried right on. "You always borrow my things and never return them, how many times do I have to tell you that?"  By this time Lindsay and Grady are exchanging WTF ? glances, and Rob is doing his best to shepherd them out of the kitchen, muttering something under his breath. I distinctly heard "Your mother" and "Hormonal", those two snatches of conversation alone would have been enough to get him smacked upside the head with a frying pan had he lingered in the kitchen.  For the record I was pissed off, not hormonal, and there is a difference.

Fast forward an hour or two and we are getting ready to leave for a family baby shower. I am already pissed off - again - because I had just discovered that I had wrapped the baby gift in "Happy Birthday " paper. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All I'd seen was the Winnie-The-Pooh design, I hadn't noticed the rest of it. Apparently my daughter had observed the mistake, but it didn't occur to her to mention it. 

Anyway, I climb in the van, kicking off my shoes as I go (I drive bare feet, rightly or wrongly it was how I was taught to drive) and Rob trying to be helpful, closes the van door. The only problem is, I hadn't moved my left foot and it was caught in the door as he slammed it shut.  My immediate reaction is to scream "F***ing Hell", at the top of my lungs, much to Rob's dismay. You are forgiven at this point for thinking that Rob breaks into an abject apology, or perhaps even an inquiry as to if my toes are still attached. No, his immediate concern, as he casts worried glances over his shoulder, is if the neighbours heard my outburst. He then climbs in the van and starts to lecture me. That's right, HE slams MY foot in the door, and then proceeds with a lecture about my language. Even Grady, who seems to have forgotten the incident with the pencil sharpener, and must have been feeling reckless, chimes in with "Most normal people would just say ouch mum". We'll see about that, the next time I slam an appendage of his in the door.

We had a great time at the family event. One of our cousins told me, that although she would love to invite us over, she was worried about what would go in my blog. All this time I thought the reason we didn't get invited places was because of my children, and now I discover it's really because of me !! So this one goes out to Jennifer and Aunt Jackie, I'm so glad you enjoy my posts.

... and for those that care - obviously not my husband - my toes are still attached, although somewhat bruised. It will be a long time before I can play "This Little Piggy Went To Market" again.