I am prone to extreme exaggeration…… and I quote, “So all consumed am I, by this overwhelming exhaustion “, see Reasons why I don’t have kids #25. (In actual fact, I’m a little tired.) My poor children would have no concept of reality.
They would perpetually be ‘starving’, they would be ‘besides themselves with delight’ about clean pyjamas and soap that smells nice and doesn’t make their eyes sting, they would go around ‘loving’ things, like mash potato and soil – actually, it’s true to say I really DO love mash potato-(see what I mean?)
They would ‘utterly despise’ homework and mummy’s turbans, they would be ‘desperately mortified’, that mummy wore said turban to their school open day.
Thinking on, that last one is probably close to reality and not exaggerated at all.
And the other kids would think they were weird and suggest they join the drama group, and they would respond, “Oh my GOD, that is the most amazing idea anyone has ever had in the whole wide world, like EVER“.
And the other kids would exchange knowing glances and raise their eyes to the Heavens.
And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #26
When I am tired (and in the grip of a completely unmanageable crush), I am, for want of a better expression, completely f*cking useless. On all counts. On every level.
This appears to be a fatal combination, as I’m learning quickly, a little to my detriment. Although, having said that, thus far, I have managed to be in the right place at the right time, with the right people. On a personal level, I am a bloody disaster. But, we can but hope, that my subconscious continues in this manner, and gets me to Liverpool, for the wedding at the weekend.
I am dazed, and dare I say it, confused (copyright reserved, Rankin, sometime in the 90s). I can barely think straight.
So all consumed am I, by this overwhelming exhaustion – approx. 4 hours sleep a night- (and crush), that I’m afraid I would have forgotten to:
Wake the children up
Or maybe actually dress them, but as Batman/Robin/The little mermaid/me
Take to school
Pick up from school
Tell them to go to bed/wash/shave/clean teeth. Etc.etc.
And although I have mentioned before, that all this is potentially excellent for personal discovery (read ‘zombie apocalypse’), I am not so sure that those around me, would view it like that.
And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #25.
I like weekends like this:
Death hour return home
Death hour return home
A little work
More gut – spillage
A little work
Making new friends
The leisure of a week to recover.
And that is my ‘ reasons why I don’t have kids ‘ #24
Imagine the scene. You are fourteen and eleven years old. It’s Saturday night. Your mum is flapping around the house, running backwards and forwards to the kitchen – in her turban, wearing glittery eye shadow and possibly her dance shoes. She’s setting the coffee table with snacks and she’s already opened the cava. You’ve got some kind of own brand pop. Boo that. She’s ushering you into the lounge.
She is ridiculously excited and quite frankly, you don’t get it. You look at each other and raise your eyes to the heavens.
The theme tune starts – it’s Strictly Come Dancing/The Voice/Britain’s Got Talent/Catchphrase/any one of a number of other programmes of a similar ilk! (Although admittedly, Catchphrase is usually a last resort in times of crisis).
The above is a picture of me (the one in the turban), in an alternate universe where I have children and I am unwittingly foisting my love of cheesy light entertainment programmes on them. Whilst all the while genuinely thinking that I am in fact the world’s coolest mum, recreating the ambience and excitement of a television studio, in their very own living room.
Said ambience mainly provided by my own spontaneous whoops and clapping and cheering. Nuff said.
What my children actually want to do, is go and hang out at a friend’s house, maybe have a sleepover, talk about boys/girls/Selena Gomez/Justin Bieber/ (horrified mother)/the state of the economy, and face what’s time app each other. Or whatever the kids are doing these days.
And so, you might easily understand why this over-eagerness to share my passion for Saturday night television, is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #23.
Remember those terrible times as a child, when your mum thought she was Vidal Sassoon? Have countless, slightly faded photos of you and your siblings, all with minutely different versions of wonky hair? Re-living the embarrassment of walking into school with DIY bangs?
Well, I would be that mother.
If, when left alone on a slightly boring day, I’m willing to experiment with the cat’s fur (and after a chat with my mum yesterday, apparently the whiskers of my stufffed toys too), or my own hair, imagine if my children were also wandering around aimlessly……. “Come here sweetheart, your hair needs a little tidy-up.”
And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #22.
I would probably have to be a REAL grown-up and not just fake it twice a year when the opportunity arose/I have the place to myself. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure I’m well-enough equipped for this, I think it would be fair to say, that I can barely take care of myself.
Being adult is a lot of stress and responsibility for one person to handle, throw a couple of little people into the equation and it would be chaos. For me. You are also required to possess a certain skill set, which I feel totally uncomfortable with:
asssurances and guarantees
providing certainty for others in your sphere
The desire to forward think and plan, find assurances and guarantees and a provide certainty for others in your sphere. (All the normal things grown-ups should be thinking about).
How can I do that when I don’t even know what the next hour will hold, let alone the next month/year/five/ten years? I don’t even want a goldfish because the responsibility scares me too much. (And I was also devastated and scarred by the loss of Formby, my trusty goldfish of five years I rescued from a fair. In a village called Formby.) If I’m not prepared to take my goldfish along for the ride, I most definitely couldn’t up sticks in the blink of an eye and drag my offspring around the place on a whim.
And I definitely couldn’t have them staying in verminy hovels waiting for mummy to get her shit together. And that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #21.
I would periodically feed them lumps of cheese, for one of the following reasons:
- For educational purposes. You see, I think it’s a little ‘exotic’ – ssoooooo Italian/French/Swiss, so I am in actual fact, expanding their minds.
- I am brassic and it’s all I can afford
- I am lazy
- (A combination of the two immediately above)
Lumps of cheese have never been and will never be considered, a healthy balanced diet for children. So that is my ‘reasons why I don’t have kids’ #20.
*Also,I am cheese dependent. There, I said it. Maybe it’s hereditary…….. I really don’t want to take the risk .
They would spend four or five weeks of every year terrified of their grotesque, hayfever misshapen mother, who also happens to be very grumpy at this time.
(And the rest of the year scared of her for other reasons including days when she was in a ‘very bad mood for no reason’, time of the month when she cries uncontrollably for many happy/sad/furious reasons, gin hangovers – when she looks like she is minutes from death – and random occasions in between all of those).
So basically, my kids wouldn’t be scared of me, approximately 13 minutes a year and that is my reasons why I don’t have kids #19.
P.S. Can’t quite believe I haven’t tagged anything with ‘periods’ until now…… didn’t come up in the menu. Huh.
I wouldn’t be able to openly display my birthday cards, for fear of the ‘Mummy, what’s a drunken whore?’ questions.
And that would be a shame, because they’re really funny……..