tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3847179735305672412024-02-08T19:41:32.895+00:00DON'T MOVEMAMA SLEEPS WITH A CHAINSAWelizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-79172277108643444322011-05-21T11:12:00.004+01:002011-08-07T10:22:43.018+01:00THE VAGINAL SPECULUM MONOLOGUE*the following was written on 27 april 2006, when isabel was 5, and regina, 3 months old. :)
I am Mother Superior.
I am the overlord of this household; and as such, I expect my rules to be obeyed. You, my subjects, having sprung forth from the recesses of my adipose-ridden abdomen, shall pledge your grateful allegiance only to me.
Forging alliances with your father, who is of elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-11621942763930942852011-04-26T10:31:00.000+01:002011-04-26T10:31:01.033+01:00the mother's arsenal:warning sounds - inaudible to the untrained ear; may range from low, guttural sounds, a series of grunts, or an actual yell; may be used on dad.
eye movements - almost obscure to non-family members; may range from a 2-second glare to an actual "eye of sauron" deadly stare; may also be used on dad occasionally.
flying/falling objects - may be used in conjunction with eitherelizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-27040746168433494952011-04-26T10:08:00.000+01:002011-04-26T10:08:18.240+01:00as for that large bar of nestle crunch behind the spice jars on the topmost cupboard in the kitchen? the children can pry it from my cold, dead hands.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-1929237915453976942011-04-26T10:04:00.000+01:002011-04-26T10:04:38.685+01:00never tell your children you're making brownies. there is no point in pre-heating the oven when there's no batter left to make brownies with.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-37000958584777750332011-04-26T09:51:00.000+01:002011-04-26T09:51:35.131+01:00never is there a more heartfelt pronouncement of "i love you's" than from a child who has been spared a lecture after being caught with all five fingers in a jar of nutella.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-36243848651515912482011-04-26T09:46:00.000+01:002011-04-26T09:46:48.495+01:00catapults should never come back into fashion. many children will end up stranded in neighbouring countries and new immigration laws will have to be set up to accommodate such arrivals.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-89502603451276572272011-04-26T09:41:00.000+01:002011-04-26T09:41:14.894+01:00mantra:
i must TRY not to leave the children in the woods. i must TRY not to leave the children in the woods. i must TRY not to leave the children in the woods.
it's pointless when they know the postcode to the family home. you'll only get into trouble with the law.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-20535049499004107332011-04-26T09:25:00.000+01:002011-04-26T09:25:56.965+01:00precious moments are meant to be savoured. i'm talking about sleep. those few hours of peace and quiet when the kids are in school? cherish it.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-66410456965769055232011-04-25T11:31:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:47:21.749+01:00i'm telling you, lack of sex makes a person ill. many a parent take regular sick days off from work because the only possibility of extinguishing the raging flames of desire is when the children are in school. it is safe to conclude that this is also the reason why we see a lot of parents looking less than joyful during the summer holidays.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-24369324223311723032011-04-25T11:14:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:48:46.830+01:00some days parenthood makes you thankful for the candid humour your own children bring into your life.
some days you want to kick your own ass for breeding. i think we're purposely built not to contort for this reason.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-22226648514624412202011-04-25T11:12:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:49:40.282+01:00there are few things a five year old wouldn't do to escape the curse of bathing. a mother can sooner implode than come up with one memory of her child volunteering to get clean. if things get rowdy in the house, soap makes a very good visual deterrent for further mischief.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-12767476462833359792011-04-25T11:08:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:50:06.441+01:00children decorate the household....then they come in after a day in the sun..and then they just stink up the household.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-22459375213065553312011-04-25T11:01:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:50:42.973+01:00you'll never know your own capacity for love until you have children. also, you'll never understand why some animals eat their young until you have children.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-384717973530567241.post-11286687510170472892011-04-25T10:48:00.001+01:002011-04-25T11:51:06.750+01:00a mother is her own worst critic. no matter how selfless she deems herself to be, there's always a nagging afterthought that she hasn't done enough. i try to contemplate on my own feelings of inadequacy by finding a quiet spot, accompanied only by the chocolate bar that i've succeeded to smuggle past the kids without getting detected.elizabethhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11180795707698403811noreply@blogger.com0