Wednesday always brings with it a deep sigh of relief as the knowledge that the weekend nears sinks in. It is about now that my head begins to spin and exhaustion begins to catch up with me. I grabbed a nap in the car this morning before work putting my left leg into a coma. I arose from my seat not so much like Venus and promptly sank to my knees at the burst of blazing agony. I crawled back into the car and tried to sit nonchalantly until normal blood flow resumed.
The sock-plastered-to-the-side-of-the-washing-machine tiredness is a result of another late night thanks to a brief that arrived at 15:00 for presentation at 10:00 this morning. My yawns are threatening to engulf me whole, so lunchtime may well be spent in slumber.
Conversations with children are always a fountain of information. For example volcanoes do not exist in this world, but only in dinosaur world. Any attempt to point out that we actually live in the mouth of an old volcano is greeted with sneers of “How stupid do think we are?” and “You don’t know!” Also fairies come in different sizes depending on their job spec. For example Flower Fairies are small like dandelions, but the Tooth Fairy is bigger because she has to carry around teeth.
I noticed something very odd recently about motherhood. Here it is. Once you become a mother, non-mothers and non-fathers begin treating you like a maiden aunt or a virgin bride. Is it because we are examples of when sex stops being recreational and becomes a biological imperative? Either they ask you embarrassingly intimate questions or act as though you had a virgin birth and the world s-e-x might offend your sensitive ears. On a little tangent, I read an article today that oral sex is the number one cause of mouth cancer in America (for men). There’s something to think about!
The point I was trying to make before I got sidetracked was that age and experience don’t fast track you into senility. When my first son was born I took him to meet the oldest member of my family, Dr Diana Knowles-Spink who recently passed away at the age of 104. Her aide softly asked me to leave the room if I needed to breastfeed as it might shock Aunt Diana. As I duly prepared to leave, she asked me loudly where I was going and when it was explained with difficulty as I tried to avoid saying the word breast, she burst out with, “Good God! I have been alive for nearly 100 years my girl and there is little anyone can do to shock me now.” Turns out she used to shake hers on the stage with a famous twenties flapper!
Not that I am unshockable, but the things that shock and appal me usually have to do with man’s inhumanity to man, not a piece of ass or a flash of a boob. Now, there’s another thing. How come men are reduced to helpless sniggers and laughter at the sound of certain rather innocuous words in the English language? It must be hardwired into the psyche. Try this little experiment, in the middle of a conversation drop in words like “poo”, “bum” and “boob” and see what happens to men of any age. The drop the big one… “fart”. It’s an instant recipe for male hilarity.
Now for some self-pity. Turns out I missed another mothers’ breakfast from Grade 00 at Tasha’s yesterday due to work commitments. Apparently, they had so much fun they didn’t leave Tasha’s until it was time to fetch their kids from school. I am jealous, wracked with envy and turning a very unattractive shade of green. Which is why when I hear these self-same women moaning about their lives I want to scream at them that they lead a life of privilege and should be bloody grateful for it. I want to spend a morning at Tasha’s trading idle banter, comparing Jimmy Choos followed by some shopping for stuff I don’t need before returning to my mansion on the Houghton Ridge. I think I shall buy a Lotto ticket on my way home.
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