Dear ‘Concerned’

Thank you for taking time out of your busy day to contact me. I appreciate that you took time away from your ivory tower to write me, detailing your concerns for the welfare of my children, my current mental state and the number of shoes in my closet. I am sorry it has taken me so long to reply, but as you point out, instead of curing my sons Autism I have been wasting my time playing on the internet and wandering around in fabulous shoes. While we are on the subject of my son, I feel I need to clear …

Sights and smells in the local supermarket.

So I ventured to the supermarket cause I was out of chocolate and vodka fresh produce, wearing my purdy shoes. A girl needs to feel purdy when venturing out with the great unwashed. Armed with my shopping list, I parked next to the most expensive cars I could find – just to add a little excitement to my day – pleaded with Boo to ‘open the door carefully’ and waited patiently for him to let me out of the car. Cause apparently I am incapable of opening a car door myself. I need to wait till Boo comes and …

Don’t breathe on me.

I think I am a pretty good mum. My kids beg to differ. Especially when they are sick. I have a very low tolerance for sickness. You will get a bit of sympathy, maybe a hug, but if it drags on longer than a couple hours I am over it. Totally. I am all ‘What? Go to bed or something. Get out of my face. And for God’s sake don’t breathe on me! I don’t want your germs.’ Meh. I will give them medication and stuff. Throw a couple of cloves of garlic in their general direction. Maybe a …

I am a woman of my word, Iceel you bastard.

Alternate title: The post where I go all mummy gooey, ask for a favour and then show my boobies. Before my breasticles, an actual post. Boo had a wonderful time at camp. I drove the hair raising drive out to the secluded camp, in the middle of freaking NOWHERE with hills that rivaled rollercoasters in the fucking RAIN, and found him doing archery. Well I heard him first, yelling at the kids to stand where he deemed necessary and basically ruling the roost. As usual. He came running to me. And then he showed me around. Smiling and happy …

This is the way it is goin’ down, yo.

Dear Family, Sunday. Mothers Day. Day of mother worship. Mother. That would be ME. You know, that chick that does your washing and feeds you and drives you around and shit? Yeah, well she wants a freaking day off. And that day is gunna be Sunday. And this is the way it is goin’ down. Sunday morning, I ain’t getting up till I am READY to get the fuck up. I don’t care if Boo has painted the walls in his own excrement or has eaten half a jar of peanut butter with a twig he found in the …

You know you are addicted to blogging when…

Hmmm… MPS walked in with tulips and chocolate. I grabbed my phone and took photos BEFORE I said thankyou. Moo turned to him and said ‘She is so blogging your good deed Dad!’ as I downloaded it via bluetooth… See? **************** MPS trying to convince me to buy him an iphone. ‘You could blog about it’ **************** Moo said something totally random while I was dyeing her hair: Me: So this is the random thoughts thread huh? Moo: Fair is. Isn’t it bizarre that we are having this conversation IRL (yes, she said IRL!) and we both know what …

What I am giving up for Lent.

Apparently it is Lent. And people give shit up for Lent. Isn’t that the whole point of Pancake Tuesday? You know using up the good stuff so you can lose a few kilos before gorging on chocolate that the bunny brings you can like, suffer. Like a good Catholic or somesuch. Hang on I am not Catholic. Um. I don’t actually know what I am. Shit, I hope I am not a Scientologist, cause I don’t want no seven degrees of separation from the freaky alien that calls himself Tom. But apparently he is handy around a traffic accident. …

I need a secretary.

hmmmm, that would be fabulous. Someone to wander around behind me, peeling me grapes and making me coffee. And organising my life. I have been so busy lately. Things are slipping. The other day I forgot to make my bed. Man that pissed me off, cause I always make my bed. That freaking Flylady has got a lot to answer for in that respect. And those people that resemble me still keep asking for food and clean clothes and for me to drive them places, unpaid mind you, and shit. Sheesh. Really cutting into my sitting on my arse …

Boo’s homework.

New teacher. New expectations. New person to train in all things Boo. Our first hurdle. Homework. Boo has another diagnosis of Hyperlexia. Basically he could read before he could speak. And he can read any word. AND spell it. He had the kids at Too’s birthday party in shock, when at 2, he spelt Nickelodeon backwards on the wall. And he has memorised Pi to the 30th power or somesuch. And knows the periodic table. And of course every single freaking font. His IQ is off the scales. But he can’t wipe his own arse. Or hold a conversation. …

I have lead a sheltered life.

Last night I was edu-ma-cated. In the horror that is the douche bag. Was minding my own business, having a little break from the monotony that is the life of a mother of 3 lazy fucking bloodsuckers children and wandered over to Boobs, Injuries and Dr Pepper. And was shocked and horrified and laughed so much I peed a little. Probably requiring the services of said douche bag. I am not totally sheltered. I have heard of douches. Just didn’t realise that they came in the handy bag version. That apparently mothers hung from their showers. And small children …