Monday, 23 May 2011

Yet Another Lavatorial Tale

It was a blissful momentary thing. It seemed that my work as a Mother was done. Complete.
I had no more need to chastise, clean, order around or shout.
This morning, was running around as normal, shouting at people (mostly my children) and ordering people (mostly my children) to get lunch boxes, PE kits, coats (bloody cold this morning, eh?) book bags, heads, etc into some semblance of order so that we could get them all to school...
When I smelt it...
A shiny, green, fresh sort of smell, not often found in my house, unless instigated by me...
Toilet Duck.
Yes, I smelt it... an aura of Cleanliness and Order, of Shiny Enamelled Lavatories, of Non-Crappy Loo.
One of my children had Actually Used it.
To clean out the loo after Performing.
The window was open, the loo shiny new, and the sweet sweet smell of Toilet Duck flooded the senses. (and the bloody Bowl, must have used half the bottle)
I tell you, my work is over.
The lessons over the last 22 years are finally coming to Fruition.
'Have you Flushed?'
'Is it clean?'
'Can my friends sit down on the seat without Fresh Urine all over their legs?' ('Ewww, Mum, you are DISGUSTING.'
'Not half as much as you PEE'ING with abandon ALL OVER THE WALL.')
But no. Not any more, it seemed.
One of them could handle Toilet Duck. Appropriately.
And this would surely mean that the others would too.
Take me home, James.
My work is done.
And then, this evening. As I sat at the computer, in that peaceful moment after the carnage of tea and washing up and more shouting, was interrupted in my blissful reverie by child crashing their way into the downstairs loo.
Smugly waited while they Went. And smugly waited until they had finished.
Smugly went into loo to inspect Pristine Lavatorial Dwelling.
Oh. Shit.
Literally. Round the bowl and even on small pieces of loo paper on the floor.
An entire tree's worth of lavatory paper piled up, meringue style, almost to the top of the loo. And the stench! Brought tears to the eyes...
Back to basics.
Work as Bossy Cow of a Mother is to continue...
(Incidently, what the HELL does a DUCK have to do with lavatorial cleanliness???
Why not Toilet Tortoise? Or Lavatory Limpet? Or Bog Bat? Grrrrr)

Monday, 16 May 2011

The Hungry Caterpillar

Bugger it.
It appears I have reached new depths.
Was taking my two younger children to school this morning. Beautiful May sunshine, albeit rather chilly at 8.45 a.m. Kissed the children, said 'Morning' to anyone within reach, passed the time of day with a friend and talked about nothing much, and was about to walk back home when same friend plucked a small Green Caterpillar from my rather natty new cardigan (another story) and deposited it into my hand. I rather gingerly held it on the end of my index finger, thanked her politely (she paid absolutely no notice, never does) and started off down the road, sticking out my index finger as if playing guns with Youngest.
Not really liking this small Green Caterpillar being on the end of my finger, tried to shake it off. No luck, so flicked the slimey green bugger off into the hedge.
'Eww!' said a passenger of car sloping past (so slowly could hear the news on the radio through the open window)
Ewww?? I thought? Why?
And then realised.
They thought I was flicking off a bogie. Snot. Nose Mucus. Greeny. Any other delightful word that describes such an odious function. Flicking it OFF my finger and into the hedge.
In full sight. A Great Big MOVING Green Bogie. (anyone on the other side of the Atlantic? A Booger to you)
New depths.
I wanted to shout after the disapproving backside of the car 'Hey YOU! It's not a bogie, it's a CATERPILLAR!' but thought, quite rightly I think, that this would have made me seem even more weird.
And so I'll simply kill my friend and then let things lie for a while.
Or else pluck a caterpillar from HER natty cardigan (not QUITE as natty as mine) and place it just below her nostril. With Superglue.
For God's sake, WHY ME.