Wednesday, 14 October 2009

Meet Mrs Jeckyll. Or Mrs Hyde. Take Your Pick.

Meet Jeckyll. Oh, and Hyde.
Because that's Me. Both of the bastards.
For Example.
Me: (roaring) Who the hell has wee'd on the seat and why the bloody hell is there a cushion in the downstairs loo? I now have wee all over my legs and I think there's some on the cushion. Yippidybloodydoodah.
Children: (meekly) Wasn't meeeeee. (chorus)
Me: Well, it wasn't me, because I tend to sit down and wee NEATLY and not DOWN THE SIDES AND ON THE SEAT or on any cushions, which for some EXTRAORDINARY REASON are on the floor of the Downstairs Loo when they SHOULD BE WHERE THEY BELONG.... ON THE BLOODY SOFA.'
Am really shouting Quite Loudly at this point.
Door rings.
I go to door.
It is Total Stranger. Smiling. Slightly strained smile. Has heard me shouting about wee. Oh, crap.
I crank my face into a smile. Nail it firmly into place.
HIYA! I say, cheerily. Looking twinkly and jolly.
Total Sea Change.
Children come to door and watch the exchange in interest.
Stranger: Oh, hello, could you tell me where I can find Church Lane?
Me: Yes! Of Course! Let me show you!
Am speaking with loads of Exclamation Marks and smiley Facial Expressions.
Over Compensating for all the shouting. Convincing this poor woman that I am, really, an Awfully Nice Person.
I show her where Church Lane is, with wild gestures of arms and girly sort of directions, like, Just after the Apple Tree, and Just before you get to the Big Hole in the road.
Total Stranger leaves, to friendly waves, and 'Say goodbye's' from me to children.
Close door.
Notice cushion in downstairs loo.
Open mouth to shout orders to children about leaving cushions in loos and wet loo seats. But refrain.
And ask one of them to Remove the Cushion and Wipe the Seat.
Which they do. After some grumbling and Why-Should-I-It's-Always-Me type thing.
And I go to kettle and perform the gentle and calming act of making a cup of tea.
Before thinking to self what Total Arse I can be. So nice to strangers to whom I owe nothing. And so bloody horrible to my wonderful children. To whom I owe Everything.

Even Wee on my upper leg.
Yum.

29 comments:

Jeff D'Antonio said...

The trouble with being the only male in my house? When there's wee on the seat, there's no one else to blame.

I tried blaming the cat once, but that was a dismal failure. And now the cat hates me.

elizabethm said...

But total strangers don't put the sofa cushions in the loo. You are teaching social skills. At least that is what I used to tell myself after yelling, perhaps not entirely convincing.
Makes a good blog though.

Vicus Scurra said...

You make a very good point. From tomorrow I suggest that you smile and treat your children with kindness no matter what the circumstances. But if you encounter an adult for the first time hurl obscenities and shriek hysterically like a banshee with PMT. Pls to let us know how that unfolds.

Nicola said...

this is so brilliant. and so true for so many of us I imagine. I will bear it in mind the next time I am being Dr Jekyll with the kids and do my damnest to pretend they are complete strangers and that I can fake a Mr Hyde with them goddamit, even it if kills me in the process. After all, as you so rightly point out, I can do it with other people all bloody day long.

geraldgee said...

Ooh,that brings back childhood memories,I came from a family of seven,six of them boys.wet seat shouting was a daily occurrence. xx

Pam said...

I know what you mean about this. I think the same sometimes when I'm nicer to people at work than my hubby, who I love to death.
Still. There's very little chance the lady that knocked on your door is going to pee on your toilet seat so she deserves kindness, and the little monkeys that peed and moved cushions into the loo probably don't mind a bit of telling off. Please tell us - what were they doing with the cushion? I'm intrigued

Woman In The Midst: Raw said...

I'm quite certain that stranger or family, I'd do some hollering about pee on the seat and sofa cushions on the bathroom floor!!! It's just training for real life.. One day their bosses will yell at them too.. Don't be so hard on yourself..
Good point tho.. We should be nicer to our families.. =)

Midlife Jobhunter said...

"So nice to strangers to whom I owe nothing. And so bloody horrible to my wonderful children."

Yeah, but your children love you.

I don't even want to know what my neighbors have heard coming from my house.

Brit in Bosnia / Fraught Mummy said...

I was thinking that very thought the other day.

Then the kids destroyed the castle I had painstakingly been making with them and I instantly lost the plot.

Robynn's Ravings said...

I am hysterical at Vicus' remark! And you! And yes, we should be kind to our children but the thing is, strangers are so much easier because they've never peed on our toilet seats or left them for us to sit on.

And I JUST had this very conversation in testy tones two nights ago and my son is 14. Can't he just lift the seat up? Apparently not. I plot my revenge. But I won't go into any lots of details...it's just a wee story.

Vicus Scurra said...

I haven't got anything new to say, but saw the wv and had to use it.
"eplop". Sounds like virtual shit. Which is my field of expertise.

Matthew said...

The cushion in the loo's a bit of a worry. What next - a microwave and a stereo?

Strawberry Jam Anne said...

Well that's a relief LWM - I thought it was just me - though I don't think I've found a cushion in the loo - yet! A x

Reasons said...

All sounds perfectly normal to me. Stranger didn't wee on cushion, children did. Maybe if you shout in sing songy voice with explanation marks you'd feel better? Perhaps not then.

trashalou said...

Cushion in the bathroom? Makes perfect sense. SOmetimes one is in that room for a while and those loo seats are not especially comfortable.

Mwa said...

I hate wee-spread. I told my son to hold his willy yesterday while peeing, so he held it while looking at me and still got it all over the seat. Minger.

martine frampton said...

Because you are being polite to the stranger but you can be your real self, for good or for bad, with your children. it teaches them about unconditional accepting relationships working both ways, that they must accept that you have crazy moments but you love them in spite of, or even possible because of, the wee on the toilet seat:-)
thanks for sharing
Martine

glnroz said...

Dang,, i have an urge to go home and check the position of the lid/seat whatever... what is a loo?

Midlife Jobhunter said...

Ladybird,

I normally don't do this, but I've left an award for you on my blog. Your posts of late are on my mind, so you came to mind.

Enjoy!

Nancy said...

Oh my, a cushion in the loo? Well, my grandson flushed my daughter's keys, and all the other stuff in the bathroom garbage down the loo. And you ask how the keys were in the loo? Well they were in the garbage, of course. :-)

lakeviewer said...

Hi. I came by from Midlife to congratulate you. Now, I get to linger and enjoy your post.

DJ Kirkby said...

Awwww this post made me laugh (guilty) and well up with tears a bit. I feel like this soemtimes too. But, wee down the sides of th loo and on the floor AND slamming of doors! Grrrrrrrr.

Rebel Mother said...

You do make me laugh!

The times I have sat in pee - if I had a quid, for each time, I'd be a zillionaire.

Its boys you know. Their aim is dreadful

RMxx

Ladybird World Mother said...

Oh, thank you one and all... sorry to be such a lazy so and so, and reply one to all... I always think people are so DAMNED LAZY when they do that. But.... talk about a busy time... mad, non-stop... but thank you so much for all the lovely comments about wee on seats... and make sure all you men folk, that you keep that damned loo seat UP. And make sure all you women folk, that you check the state of that loo seat before you sit DOWN. Maybe we should invent some attractive Thigh Wipes. Best seller, you reckon?
Loads of love all round. Off to Brighton now... via the Dump. Joy. xxxxxxxx

Michelle Wells Grant said...

Hence, I only have one child, who's now 22 years old. I always say, my hand goes off to women who have more than one, but 4! Heavens! You're entitled to a Jeckyll & Hyde moment from time to time! Hilarious post!

Michelle Wells Grant said...

And my HAT goes off to them also!

imbeingheldhostage said...

Too funny! I'm guessing you were also speaking a little louder than normal so that maybe they might have thought they misinterpreted normal dialog for insane, wee-covered mum shouting?

Loose Women really lost out on you, didn't they? You should give them another chance to have your wit presenting...

Nishant said...

You are teaching social skills. At least that is what I used to tell myself after yelling, perhaps not entirely convincing.
Work From Home

Dia said...

Oh - too hilarious!!
I find myself grumping at my precious granddaughters, at times!! So silly - but those 'innocent' actions (I can well imagine a pillow or two in the loo!) bring it out!
I do try to remember to appologize for yelling - then remind them to pick up whatever prompted the yell!!
Just read the most delightful version of Red Riding Hood yet
http://www.thecasablancablog.com/2009/11/little-red-riding-fiona-and-her-lazy.html