Aint nothing sweet about that Lollipop.....

Do you find it amusing that a uniform or badge can give someone a bit of a power trip, no matter how menial the signified task is? I know that wearing the ‘School Bank Officer’ badge in Primary school gave me a certain edge of authority.  It didn’t quite allow me a seat in the staff room at lunch times as I expected, but I held a position of responsibility ergo a position of power. 

Although you give some people the slightest bit of authority and even the most level headed individual can be overcome with the intoxicating grasp that power and influence can have on you.  We've all seen fire wardens take the responsibilities of the red hat a little too seriously (for the record fire wardens do not have the ability to give out fines for taking your handbag out with you on fire drills.)

Faux uniforms are the worst, I consider the Lollipop crossing lady uniform a faux uniform – because really it’s just about the high visibility, there’s no power in that raincoat with reflective strips.  Just get the kids across the road and pop on out of my way.

Harsh, I hear you say (in fact almost taboo!)

I must confess to having issue with a certain tyrant of a lollipop crossing lady that has tainted my opinion on the whole sector.

She works the crossing at a school not far from my home.  We've established in the past I am not spontaneous, I’m completely a creature of habit, thus each day I automatically drive the same way to take the kids to their school, past this children’s crossing control freak.  I curse my own rigidity.

So the feud is about me being in my car, driving along, obeying school speed limits and this despot thrusting her hexagon stop sign out giving me the shortest moment in time to stop before she ushers small children onto the zebra crossing.  Every day she shakes her head in disapproval at me.

I spend my time waiting for the children to cross wondering what I have done to upset this lady, I can’t recall obliviously knocking over small children like pins in the past, I’m pretty sure I haven’t sped through here with a beer in hand and loud  inappropriate music blaring out the windows. So why does she dislike me so?

We’re getting to the end of term now and I can sense she’s reached her limit of assisting herds of children and their unruly parents across the road.  She must be able to sense I’ve had my fill of morning arguments about blazers, missing shoes and teeth cleaning, because that lady is really really pushing my buttons now.

Last week things came to a head.   I’m sick of giving my kids low speed whiplash (which really just makes them drop their left over breakfast/show and share item/my phone and yell out incredulously at the inconvenience), so I decided to play her at her own game.

Day 1 – Coming up to the crossing I slowed to 25kms readying myself to stop, she stayed on the footpath, so I increased my speed to 35 and BANG I was just mere inches away from the crossing when she sticks out the sign, steps on to the road and signals for me to slow the fuck down.

Because that’s what she does, even if I’m going 10 kms she always signals furiously in a ‘slow the fuck down’ kind of way.

This time she continued to signal at me to slow down even after I had stopped, a wry grin on her face as we stared at each other (if I was hardcore I would have been gunning the engine at this point)

It was too late to stop myself as I mouthed ‘fuck you’ in full view of the next group of parents and children now gathered at her designated ‘wait here to cross’ spot.  Dammit. I plastered a wan smile on my face.

She gave me the slightest nod and changed her grin to a grimace, then slowly limped back to the footpath.

A limp!  WTF, she totally does not have a limp.  It was game on from that point

Day 2 -  I thought I could get into her mind and psych her out.  I just stopped at the crossing even though she was still on the footpath – there was a child waiting I knew what she was going to do.  

I raised an eyebrow, curled my lip into a smile and nodded my head up and down

‘How do you like that one control freak  BOOM’

She shook her head and waved me on.  NO!  I pummeled the steering wheel and continued on my way.

Day 3 – I stayed on 40 clicks and head right at that crossing, I could see her step forward but I just kept  going, She began to step into the crossing but I still kept on going.  Then she stretched her legs in an unnatural alien like manner and was standing in front of the car before I knew it, signalling at me to slow the fuck down.

I stopped. She practically had her hand on the bonnet, shaking her head, I could see her talking with the parents crossing and they all glared at me like I’d just taken out the entire 1^st Grade.  One even patted her on the back.

NO NO NO NO NO I’m a good person, this is all her!!

‘She doesn't even really have a limp!’ I yelled out of the car window, shaking my head and pointing at her.

 

I could tell she was laughing at me on the inside so I did the ‘point my fingers at my eyes and point them at her’ gesture.  She waved me on.

Day 4 –  We went a different way.

This week I’m trying really hard to remember to drive the new route to school, also I don’t think I’m allowed to go the old way anymore, the crossing lady has a security guard now.

I’ve made an anonymous suggestion to the school that a set of pedestrian crossing lights would be a really good idea.

Vale Joan Gardner

This week I lost my Nanna.

It's hard to put into words what someone who has been in your life for your entire life, actually means to you.
I have tried to put feelings and memories into words.

I don't really think I can do her justice though, she was more than just a grandmother or an old lady.  She was an influence, a force, an example and someone who loved me dearly.

I loved her with a fierceness that I can't describe.

Vale Joan Gardner

With a sea scented gentle wind at back

Rocking a large pine unstill

The memory of lost voices give thrill

They line the walls

They fill the halls

A distant reflection in my mind

The rich love filled tones

Of lives spent, children grown

In a house by the beach

A house where she would teach

A pinch of this, a dash of that

Mix with love, mix with soul

Receive a lecture as you beat the bowl

Mind your mother,

Be kind to your brother

Never too much sugar in the ginger beer

Cook fish in its skin

Scraps in pit pot, not the bin

Duck eggs in fruit cakes

Always use paper lining when you bake

Christmas cheer is better when shared

Talk of neighbours, gossip it’s not

Just passing the important message you got

Ice in drinks

Cheeky winks

Rosy cheeks from being love pinched

Always love your family dear

Hold your lover near

Recite the lords prayer at night

And squeeze your children ever so tight

She shared true loves grasp with me

Now laid at rest

With her much loved best

Waiting to take her

On the next life’s path

E.

I couldn't think of anything worse.....

Do you ever have those moments where you’re doing something and you think ‘what could be the most embarrassing addition to this moment?’  Like you realise that you’re really picking your nose, like really trying to get one of those slippery big ones up the back, you’re sitting absentmindedly at your dining table opposite the glass doors, finger in past the knuckle and you think ‘wouldn’t it be awful if someone you don’t know well enough for this to be ok, like the kids principal, was standing there about to knock on the door just staring in disbelief at you…..

No?

Neither do I.

Lies – I do it all the time!  I was running across the road doing my skip, hop & hold jacket closed so no one sees my fat jiggle run, imagining what it would be like if I tripped over and everyone saw my knickers and I hit my face on the bitumen and made my nose bleed…..

Sometimes I use the loo at work and sit there for a bit just whiling away the time and then I imagine what would happen if I’d forgotten to close the door and one of my well respected colleagues walks in and sees me leaning with my elbows on my knees gazing at the ceiling legs kicking back and forward……

While I’m waiting for my coffee in the really noisy coffee shop, hardly able to hear anything,  just minding my own business  I ruminate about if I accidentally think someone is talking to me but they’re talking on their phone earpiece and I keep the conversation going  for ages before I realise that they’re not talking to me and everyone in the coffee shop knows, then I grab the wrong coffee and run out whilst the Barista yells ‘That’s not your light soy macchiato…...’

Then there’s the time I’m at a work drinks function, trying to be all mingly  and confident with people, I laugh heartily with my mouth open and head held slightly back (that screams confidence right?), sip my drink, say ‘oh excuse me I see someone I know’ and then step to walk away but imagine what would happen if my pointy toe shoe got caught in the cuff of my overly wide trousers making me fall forward and spill my drink all over the people sitting on the classy faux leather lounge……..

The potential embarrassment makes my cheeks burn red and my eyes water a little bit, I do kind of like this feeling, because the wave of relief that washes over me next, knowing that it hasn’t really happened,  is like some sort of euphoric hit of narcotics.  Oh except for that tripping on my trousers one, that one really happened, there was no wave of relief there (well actually the bosses wife got so drunk she vomited all over the floor, the relief knowing that everyone would be talking about that instead of my catastrophic, arm flailing nose dive was palpable.).

I do concern myself sometimes with the whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing – I have to mentally check that I’ve closed the toilet door, or do some crazy high step run to ensure my feet don’t slide out from under me on the road and I NEVER make eye contact with people in the coffee shop anymore!

What is this need to extrapolate things out to the worst case scenario?  I like to think of it as forward planning – if shit gets real I’ve got it covered because I’ve already thought of something much worse happening and whatever really goes down aint no thing. 

Although.............. the time I flashed my babs to a lingerie store  full of people, because the shop attendant came back and whipped the curtain open sooner than originally stated completely caught me (and the patrons) by surprise, didn’t see that one coming.

 

(Seriously curtains in a lingerie shop - you can't knock on curtains, get some doors already.)

 

 

A total fabrication.....

Dear Tradie Man,

I’m a fan of feedback, as long as it’s constructive. I’ve always thought a pat on the back is worth 2 in the bush (yeah that’s never made sense to me either), so it’s with the utmost respect that I would like to share my thoughts about the work we have had done with you, I would like to make this a positive experience for the both of us.

Our heating/Air conditioning Bills are grateful for the fact you painted the windows shut, thank you.  I’ve always said that fresh air possibly carries germs and contagions, the less of it we have in our house the happier I am.  If we could paint the doors shut you know we would.

Which is why I am a little confused about the gaping holes at the base of the skirting board – the draught coming through there could quite seriously power a windmill farm, is this a new movement in aerating homes?  Because I think I’ve already mentioned my delight in not having virus ridden fresh air in the house. 

After being on all fours investigating the source of the ankle chilling breeze I discovered your time saving technique of not removing all the carpet tacks from the edges of the floor boards, I marvelled at your efficient savvy ways as I inspected the pulsating bright red wounds in the palms of my hands.  Although working through the incredible pain I did notice that perhaps you hadn’t used the gloss paint we’d discussed on the walls because the handprint of blood, from where I leant against the wall biting my lip and trying hard to not blaspheme in front of the children (they go to Catholic school you know), was seeping into the paintwork in a caveman artwork kind of manner, is this normal? 

It was interesting watching blood bleed through paintwork, I was fascinated and spent quite a time watching it’s beauty until my husband pushed my head to the base of the skirting board so I could breathe in fresh (bacteria ridden) air because I’d been inhaling the varnish fumes for too long.  Varnish? I hear you ask.  Yes varnish, I had to think hard about whether the bees wax environmentally friendly wood finish for the aforementioned skirting boards would actually smell like varnish.  I imagined  perhaps it’s some kind of marketing ploy – smells like varnish, but is actually dolphin safe….. No.

Look I understand you have many clients and a lot of jobs you’re thinking about instead of mine, I know this because you left your appointment book behind (could it have been because of the confusion inducing (non) varnish fumes) but I am left to ponder how so very little of what we discussed managed to make it to the final product.  I am quite sure that if I did my job at the same percentage of agreed output vs result, I could very well be out of a job.

I don’t wish to end this on a sour note, I really do appreciate your efforts in working only when we’re out of the house, very convenient, thank you.  Can we please have our key back now?

 

Kindest regards………

Holler-days

Holidays schmolidays – this stay at home caper is way harder than going to work – hats off to all my SAHM friends, you either have the patience of a saint or are on some pretty heavy shit. I also know there are heaps of Mums that just love having their school aged kids home 24/7 and get disappointed when they go back. 

I’ve discovered I’m not one of them.

Seriously after the first week and a half  I was a wreck and clinging with a weak grip to Husbands leg as he departed for work each morning.  Pfftt hahahaha as if I was out of bed at that time….. But I would ring later and cry down the phone ‘don’t leave me alone with them *sob sob*’

I’m really bad at taking them to fun places on my own, I get all anxious and worried I’ll lose one or worse still, end up with an extra one by accident.  We’ve done the occasional play date and had people around, but for the most part we’ve hung out at home and played whilst I procrastinate about any kind of cleaning or tidying.

I do struggle though to play lego for more than 5 minutes (especially when Charlie’s definition of ‘playing’ is me watching him make stuff and handing him pieces that he needs) and if I have to stay in Lucy’s room for more than 30 seconds I start cleaning out her clothes and considering what new dresses she might need and *bang* I’m online buying shit again.

And the Bickering, oh the bickering.  I don’t know what the ear equivalent to scratching one’s own eyes out might be, but I’ve considered poking skewers in to burst my eardrums or putting bicarb soda and then vinegar in there so I can listen to the soothing fizzzzzzzzzzz INSTEAD of hearing;

‘AARRRGGGHHHHHH GIVE IT BACK’

Or

‘Muuuuum Lucy/Charlie just hit/scratched/punched/ro sham bo’d me….’

Oh heavenly wine, why is it wrong to drink copious amounts of you when in charge of minors, and/or before 10am?

There have been quite a few days that we haven’t bothered to get out of our jammies, of course these are the days my missing Christmas parcels turn up.  Apparently a 6 year old can’t sign for them and your arm out the door wont suffice, the post man has to see your unmade-up face and hairy bare legs so he can have his giggle for the day.

There is one thing I wouldn’t change at all though – we all eat dinner together at 6pm after Husband gets home from work.  Charlie has taken a shine to cooking and I’m in the process of teaching him how to do it neatly with minimal mess. We’re working our way through Jamie Oliver’s 15 minute meals – determining which ones to keep and use during the year.  Chicken Livers have made it to the no list.  It’s been fun although I am regretting making the Caesar dressing in my shake maker….. protein shakes are hard enough to get down without tasting like anchovy….

Also, Lucy and I love watching the Bold and the Beautiful catch up at 8.30am. We were both shocked that Bill got Deacon out of jail, our jaws dropped.  We do think Brooke has overreacted, the glassy eyed hysteria was a little over the top.  Hope needs to stop being a martyr, oh and it seems like Stephanie has been at the Drs office for a couple of days waiting for her diagnosis, I hope she’s not being charged by the hour….   Each day we’re both a little disappointed that half an hours viewing has progressed the storyline by 5 minutes but we can’t wait for the next ep!

I have had some overreactions of my own in recent days, like demanding the children don’t talk to each other and going ‘Pssht’ every time they do.  Realising that you’re chasing children around the house going ‘Pshht’ ‘Pshhht’ every time they open their mouths makes you reassess your ability to parent at all.  Some alone time may be in order.

Banning the television was another overreaction – once the words came out of my mouth I wished I could stuff them back in…. What the fuck was I think.  Television is my respite – take that sucker away and who do you think has to entertain them or listen to my favourite endless refrain of ‘I’m boooooooored, I’m huuuuuuungry, Muuuuuuuuuummmmm, where are youuuuuuuuu’  (hiding under my bed – where do you think?)

I’m so looking forward to the school book and uniform shopping – I especially can’t wait for school shoe fitting day…….. (that was sarcasm)

Ugh I have to go, I have a hysterically crying four year old who thinks the world is an unfair place because I’ve asked her to put the lid back on her 24 textas and stop drawing on herself.

 I feel sanity is becoming a distant acquaintance and patience is just somebody I used to know……

Happy Holidays!