I hate parents.
Monday, April 30, 2012
I hate parents.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
It's quite a nice place. Serviettes. Knives and forks. Waiters.
We had pizza and it doesn't come out on pizza trays but on lovely big white china plates.
I didn't even mention the fact that the kid ate with his hands...
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Saturday, April 21, 2012
You don't have to read between the lines to hear my "Sorry. I'm washing my hair… or maybe rearranging my sock drawer."
In reality, getting up the Harridan's nose took second place to the fact that A: this is not 'our' weekend and B: the girl from my side is here while her life attempts to re-ravel and it will be a cold day in hell before I'll push her out the door early for the Harridan.
When he mentioned the "kid wants to stay this weekend…" I swear I could almost see his hair blow back in the wind that was my hasty - "No! Sorry. I have the girl here."
That was the short of it. The list of "you have got to be kidding's" were lengthy and even growing as I sit at the desk to blog.
Given that the hullabaloo of last weekend and my torture of the kid; my unrealistic, utterly astounding demands of asking him to use a knife and fork while eating still hadn't been sorted and I had already told the Squeeze without resolution, I wasn't prepared to up the ante on having the kid. (Even as I wrote that, the Squeeze interrupted me to mention that the Harridan can't drag her arse out of bed to have the kid at school early for his school camp, which means we have to have him 2 nights the weekend after next…)
My main arguments and the ones he has had a go at me about are: him packing clothes to bring, using basic table manners/hygiene, and his lack of consideration in time management. He can live like a pig while with the Harridan, I don't care; but I do care about my side of the world.
Those problems could be easily rectified if the kid chose to, yet each one has been met with argument and sarcasm, which I quite frankly, don't intend to put up with. Each time, the Squeeze took his side - even though both the Harridan and the kid's lack of consideration regarding time, drove him up the wall. As did her "you can never win" rule with the step kid.
And that the kid knows he has taken is side each time, means the little brat is getting worse. The argument and sarcasm over breakfast, followed by his obvious retarded attempt to fork bacon was in a word, childish bullshit and the Squeeze should have whacked him with the newspaper he was hiding behind.
When I spoke to him about the "the great bacon and egg torture", he implied that children didn't have to give respect unless earned. Ummm, in my world, I earn it because he is in my home. I cook, wash and clean up after him. That is how I earn my respect and without it, things between us will never work.
Perhaps when he is drawing his relationship circles with the nut doctor next time, he can ask how this can be the kid's home; how can this possibly be a home when I get a comment such as "rather than argue with him about using and knife and fork, you should come and discuss it with me..." Which I won't be doing. If he is in and a part of my home, I'll treat him the same as I would mine.
I involve him in everything regarding my children. He is involved, can have an opinion and inputs regularly - and it is most telling. They see him as my partner and treat him accordingly. He is on their facebooks, their phones and their gift list while shopping.
Please note: the same can not be said for even one of his.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
He said "maybe you should talk to me about it first..."
WTF? I said "are you freaking kidding? So What you are saying is that I have to have the kid here but can't tell him to do anything..? Must instead run to ask you..?"
Squeeze: "perhaps I didn't think that through..."
Monday, April 16, 2012
My mother called me to tell me that my dad has chronic myeloid leukaemia; which I can't even pronounce although I can at least Google it, which means I can offer all kinds of inaccurate advice. Upside is the spider bite on his leg has receded somewhat…
And the Squeeze sent me a long email telling me how he just couldn't take the torture I was inflicting on his poor little teenager; or something like that. It was so long that I wanted to reply to say "you are a fool. the end."
The world is a harsh place. My dad has leukaemia. My friend and mentor is dead. My girlfriend is desolate. And the kid's life is ruined because I asked him not to eat bacon and eggs with his fingers.
I should be flayed. Really.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
As anticipated, the weekend of "on the fly wheel of fortune" was not a highlight in my life. I struggle. It's hard work. I keep my mouth shut as long as humanly possible but the kid needs guidance and he obviously isn't getting it at home. Actually, what he probably needs is a good slap on the arse and not repeatedly told by mummy that he is the king of the world.
Some of my angst is centred around just plain old fashioned manners; some is around the fact that I'll be cleaning for hours as soon as he is out the door and I've taken ten minutes to breath a sigh of utter relief (or a grateful shout for joy!)
If you think this is harsh, then perhaps you should picture a casual Friday night at my place; watching a movie in front of the television. We have cooked a thai curry and flatbread. Usually, I'd ensure I set the table seeing that rich red tinged coconut milk being splattered across my white sofa. This time, I just sucked it up and let those bowls and plates with flat bread, sail out to the lounge room. They snaked past me, I could almost see those wedges of flat bread grinning as they got a rare night off the cleanliness leash.
No food leaves my kitchen without a knife, fork and serviette. In the kid's case, I generally give 2 or 3 serviettes. At the conclusion of the meal, his serviette, knife and fork are left on the table - unused.
I guess you are wondering, as did I, how the hell you can eat without cutlery.
Trust me, I don't believe it is easier; in fact given the heat factor, it must be like juggling. But I've seen it previously with the kid and even put in the odd waspish "can you please use a knife or fork..?" generally because we were with someone else and I've gauged the 'raised eyebrow' in his general direction. And he can even eat bacon and eggs - with his fingers.
Watching someone eat like a neanderthal doesn't help my digestive system (I have a low "heave" or "gag" switch, so low that the guys at work can actually talk me into dry reaching - which they think is hilarious) for myself, this is more about those hands, caked in bacon grease, that will leave the table, open the stainless steel fridge (and not by the freaking handle) and hang on to every single freaking white wall on the way to anywhere.
Last night, I sat through an entire Thai curry meal eaten as if we still existed in caves; sans knife and fork. Instead, he used the flatbread as some form of scooper - Ingenious, if we hadn't already invented the wheel and say… The spoon. I watched in fascination as he balanced liquid, chicken, vegetables and rice on the edge of a triangle of flatbread, before shoving the whole lot into his face - in one hit - (which weirdly, I felt relief over given that it avoided spillage…)
Then we are off to the Laundromat… Food is chewed in a cavernous, open mouthed fashion; it is like watching a clothes dryer of colours whizzing around and around; only the sound effects are different with a strange kind of mixture of slurp, slaggy chew, slurp/gurgle sound.
And I didn't breath a word; but did encourage the Squeeze to push for the first shower in three days - more as a pity on my walls and furniture than on his hygiene levels which quite frankly, are a lost cause; there is a good 2 ounces of dirt that could be scrapped out from under the nails of those fingers he is eating with. Arrrgghhhh!
This morning, we cooked breakfast and took it out into the courtyard. The sun is shining and it is a beautiful Melbourne day. As the troglodyte style of eating began, I asked (quite pleasantly) for him to use a knife and fork. This received a deadpan (he has an exceptionally flat, dead stare which is disquieting… where I am wondering if he is wondering what it would be like to pick up my lovely Scanpan cooks knife and plunge it repeatedly into my chest) look and then he went back to his plate, wrapping bacon around his fork with his fingers before he said "you get covered in grease anyhow."
Me: "Do you use a knife and fork at home?" Kid: "yes"
Me: "well I'm certain you know how to use them then. It's about manners and being out in the real world. No one wants to sit and watch someone eating with their fingers…"
Kid: "are you finished" [insert flat, dead, I want to plunge a knife eyes in here…]
Me: 'Don't be smart." Kid: "okay" And then he proceeded to saw a piece of bacon into about fifteen pieces and I concentrated on the paper rather than bothering to argue with the fool.
And where was the Squeeze in all this..? Ignore!!!
Hell. I could almost see his little rat eyes, his fricking brain muttering "keep head in paper. DO NOT LOOK UP! If I do, I'll have to address it!!! Ignore! It's not there!
Hostility is not here! Damned coward.
Friday, April 13, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
He didn’t think I was a harridan; we were just too young and too stupid to make a marriage work. Husband number 2 would tell a different story although he did run off to the Gold Coast with his girlfriend when I was about five months pregnant with my daughter. This puts him in the “scum of the earth” category as far as I’m concerned, so what he thinks doesn’t really count. But hey, I didn't kill him - that makes me reasonable in my books! (I don’t think wishing him dead counts...)
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Okay; I wasn't exactly singing in the rain with the thought of Easter Sunday festivities. Often, when attempting to plan anything that involves a schedule and the Squeeze's kids; it goes to Hell in a hand basket. And let's face it, far too much time has passed for these kids to learn the art of arriving on time.
They are often late, or cancel out at the last minute. They are, in a word, a planning Nazi's worst nightmare. I don't think they even know what the word 'spreadsheet' means...
And then it started about Sunday; mid afternoon. Kid 1 called stranded some place in the middle of nowhere with a dead car. I always find it amusing that they would pause to call the Squeeze to ask him about anything mechanical; as I have said many times previously, I am the man in this relationship… Listening to these two discussing possible clutch issues was a case of the blind leading the blind.
Still, while listening in, I advised that driving it probably wasn't the best idea and the Squeeze came in with calling the RACV to get it sorted. One kid in all likelihood, down.
Then there was the fact that he had been picking up Kid 2 and his gal from the other side of town. Alarm bells were ringing. They don't come over to see us much; if invited, they demand a 1.5 hour round trip to pick them up and I suddenly saw myself doing dinner on my own while the Squeeze zoomed around picking up and dropping up.
Luckily, I'd done quite a bit of preparation the day previously so I shoo'd him off and went to work, wondering what the hell I was going to do with all the food if they didn't turn up. I tend to cook for 20 when aiming for ten at the best of times… Testimony to that is our expanding girths that no amount of boxing can alleviate.
Still, when dinner time rolled around we had all parties accounted for and sitting at the table for what was a very enjoyable Easter dinner. There was plenty of food and wine; lots of laughter and lively debate. There was home made ice cream (which could have been firmer…) and by the time the Girl on my side + friend left, we were yawning and it was nearly midnight.
In the morning the Squeeze cooked breakfast on the bbq and we hung around in our pi's (and his oldest in his undies… which is a tad weird but hey, glad he felt comfortable :-) bonding with televisions depicting different styles (us girls in the lounge with Vampire Diaries [Damon certainly gets me making a weird little growl in the back of my throat… but that smile!] And the boys in the spare room watching weirdo wrestling.
Then is was off to the football where his children and one girlfriend got a first hand exhibition of true Cats supporters as the Girl and I screamed and cheered and jumped up and down like lunatics.
That night, when I got into bed, I felt decidedly happy with my life.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Kid 3 on his side is out due to him being down the coast with the Harridan and her people. Kid 1 on my side is up in Mackay so he and his girl are out. Kid 3 on my side isn't up until tomorrow with his girl.
So we get to sit down to our roast with Kid 1 + Kid 2 and his gal on his side; and the girl + friend on my side. This is blended families at it's best!
Assuming there are no rows and no one dies, it could be a good day and in fact, I'm looking forward to it. Kids can be tough work but sitting down to dinner with a group that are all adults and can follow up with some pretty witty conversation, is good fun.
Thankfully, it's only 10.15am and due to the preparation I did yesterday, I figure I an go back to bed with a book for a little while.
Not 100% certain how my home made vanilla ice cream will turn out but the blueberry coulee tastes fantastic and the Squeeze is doing a leg of lamb out on the webber. I have the lindt bunnies and tiny M&M eggs for the table so if nothing else, at least no one will starve.
Tomorrow, we are off to the football for a Geelong v Hawthorn game. I mentioned to my daughter that the Squeeze's two kids are both Hawthorn supporters and she mentioned if we are getting whooped, that we would be leaving early… Oh she of little faith!
Nothing funny to write about as yet; of course I'm sure something will happen over dinner. It always does!! Maybe someone will mention the Broom Hilda comment... Maybe it will be me!
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Mostly, I struggle with the line art. Mainly because it is coloured in the Squeeze's somewhat philosophical tones; is is a fiction writer after all. Although I recognise that these are his sessions and he can therefore add any flavour he wishes, I'm not blind to the fact that I usually come out in a negative light and it is difficult that I am not there to give what I consider a "factual" picture.
For example: In planning for Easter dinner, I happened to ask the Squeeze if Kid 2 and his Gal were staying the night to which he looked at me rather blankly and said "isn't the girl staying..?" My reply: "not sure, but if she does there is a blow up bed!" After all, if Kid 3 on my side comes to stay with his gal, his kid get's the blow up bed. As far as I can tell, there are several 'pecking' orders. 1. First in; 2. Multiples - if they are bringing a partner; 3. Age.
And the Squeeze turned to me and said "I didn't ask them as I figured you'd shout about it." WTF? Aside from the fact that I am scrupulously fair, if his kid has to abandon the spare room for my kid with girlfriend, then it goes without saying that this would happen in reverse, and the girl would lose the spare room to his kid and gal. More than the reality of those facts, was how unjust those words were.
So I poured another glass of red and settled back to mull those words; understanding that this is what the nut doctor hears and this, from my perspective, is an outright lie. Hell, he must figure I'm the Harridan!!!!! Any negativity centred around kids staying has never been in regards to Kid 1 or 2; but always on Kid 3 where the Harridan stuffs us around, swapping weekends willy nilly with no consideration for anyone.
Still, back to the nut doctor and the life drawings. Never, am I the central figure in these stick figure Picassos. I begin to see that I never will be. I am always in a line; a group. With Squeeze; with kid; with Harridan. It would appear that I will never have my own place in this world of Etch-a-Sketch. I am habitually relegated to the antagonistic third wheel position.
In the early part of our relationship, I would attempt to discuss my thoughts (which sounds calm however usually consisted of yelling) that I would never figure on the "Squeeze" totem pole. His positions of "importance'. I'm beginning to see that this hasn't changed much with time. /span>
Somewhat stupefied, I'm at a loss to understand the art; I always have been. For me, there is no "middle". There is he and I; and there is the Harridan; there are kids. His and mine. End of story. Then again, my brain has always worked back to front, or at least not how the rest of the world works. The totem pole analogy works well. My children; my family are integral part of my world and life; my totem pole. But they are not the only part.
In my naivety; I had hoped that the Squeeze seeing a counsellor would help him understand that the Harridan no longer held the reins in her hand; or if she did, he didn't have to allow it. The whip could be tossed aside and for the first time, he could begin to live. And if you have travelled this road with me, via my blog; you will understand just how damned hard that education has been. He went from being tied to the stake in the pryer; to clinging to it and helpfully tossing her the matches. Prising his fingers from the wood has been a thankless task that continues.
On occasion I have had suspicion that the Harridan was arguing just a ferociously from her side of the fence about me; putting him 'in the middle'. I asked because in my world, his loyalty should now be centred around us but that has turned out to be another exercise in 'Relationship 101'. Each time I received a negative; she made no reference to me at all. Still, it usually struck a chord of untrue. In typical Squeeze fashion, he evades; without skill. He ducks and weaves. He is an incompetent liar.
After Bun Hilda was raised, he made an offhand comment that indicated that he had known that this was how I was portrayed by her. I let this mull in my mind for a few days and then asked outright. In his haste to weasel out of trouble; doing his infamous 'rat eye syndrome', he mentioned that he has seen the terminology previously; probably on the kids phone. Or her phone. Or written in the stars or the tea leaves! Do I really look that stupid? He drops the kid off and she won't even let him in the house; so it was a given that he didn't see it on her phone.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Yeah. Well not me. And now for the background music: Jack's Mannequin - I'm Ready.
I have never figured I fit into the normal populace; and that’s okay. I liked the fact that I was considered a little bit mad, not psychotic. To my mind, the Squeeze isn’t exactly ‘round peg’ either, which is just fine. Personally, I've always found Round Peg = Damned Boring.
So what is wrong with domesticity? Firstly, I hate white picket fences; they are just nancy-ish. I’m more a rustic French Provencale kind of girl. I don’t like cutesy or girly or frilly. My kitchen is about earthenware and copper and thick knotted wood.
I have found with my children and then also with the Squeezes, that kids these days have to be dragged to the table to eat; kicking and screaming. The only conversation you get is disguised within the whining because you just flicked off the television.
They are not witty, except in back chat. They would prefer to whack me in the head with one of the many meat cleavers positioned about the kitchen, than do the dishes. And to top off this perfect "Brady Bunch" moment, Mrs. Brady sure as hell isn't dead - although after calling me Bun Hilda on the weekend, she's working closer it!
I dislike cats and sure as hell wouldn’t have an animal in the house. If it weaved in and out of my legs, it would only be purring until I gave it a swift kick and shoo’d it out of the back door. The barking dog I’d be hunting for a throat buzzing collar (needless to say that I don’t have any pets). I'm not cruel; I just don't have them.
As for the relationship moving into the comfortable state of friendship... what the hell would I want that for? That is where it started! I have plenty of friends for friendship! Yes, yes, you have to actually like the person you are living with – but slink from romance into friendship at your own damned peril!
Hope you are reading this, Squeeze.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
We were in Carlton having coffee and cake when he received a text message... "U R a fiken blah blah" and: "what... is Bunhildas kids moving??"
Then I built her hopes up; thinking that she could think along "double income" lines; only to shoot that star down before it even made a glimmer in the sky. Yet I am the witch. Well I did come along and ruin her gravy train I guess. What a damned cheek.
This time, I decided to sit and reply to her abusive text; which I have not done previously. I merely thanked her for her concern; and pointed out that my children were not actually moving anywhere at the moment and for her future reference, I believe it is spelled "Broom-Hilda".
Strangely enough, she didn't reply...