Stranger than Fiction…
There are things about me that my children do not know. No – I’m not talking about those sorts of things, smutty people. I’m talking about weird and wonderful habits and foibles I have developed over the years that make me happy, cheer me up, or simply allow me to function properly.
In order of weirdness, they are:
1. Writing down the name of the rail station where my car is parked – on my hands. Yes, plural. So I don’t forget to get off the train at the right place. This is a good system until it gets cold or the lights go off in the train tunnel. Mittens play havoc with my personal SatNav. It can also look a little like a very sad, homemade tattoo – a display of solidarity support for various South-Eastern towns. For some towns, I am tempted to add M U V V A on my knuckles too.
2. Eating Heinz baby food for lunch. Secretly. In the office. I have a particular predilection for Lamb and Vegetable Risotto for main course followed by Apricot Custard for dessert. I like to eat them cold and straight from the tin. I justify it by telling myself they are low in salt and nutritionally balanced. They also mean I don’t have to chew – infinitely preferable to fighting my way down a French stick and bearing the facial scars to show for it.
3. “Discussing” things with inanimate objects: bags of dog food, pillows, the car dashboard etc. Some days, after a day in the office, it is the most sensible conversation I get. It’s not madness, it’s simply getting across my point of view. Always and without argument.
I could go on, there are many more. But you get the picture.
Then, of course, there are the things they DO know about, and accept as absolutely normal:
1. I love model villages. Yes, really. Bekonscot has been known to make me faint.
2. I like “mini” things. The minier the better. My latest is mini dental floss. Awesome.
3. I have a violent aversion, resulting in acute gagging, to rubber gloves. Any colour, any thickness. I’m shuddering now. When I was having the children, I did my own examinations during labour. It was easier that way. Gross, but true, I’m afraid.
4. I absolutely, unequivocally and completely ADORE Julian Clary. Both as a man and a woman. In another life, I want to come back as his mother.
So, in consequence, it is a testament to my two wonderful mini-beasts that they are as normal and well-balanced as they appear to be. It certainly is not because of their upbringing. In these days of social instability; when parenting, environment and culture are being blamed for everything that is not quite right; it is a comfort to know that I have not been responsible for damaging them. That normality reigns, against all the odds. So far.
Now then, where did I put that teaspoon…..I’m hungry again.
Posted on August 11, 2011, in Uncategorized and tagged baby food, children, Heinz, Julian Clary, kids, model village, Mums, parenting, rubber gloves, tattoos, trains. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.