Tuesday, September 4, 2007

The Lure of the Foreign Legion

Good afternoon.

I am hereby submitting my resignation as Mother and joining the Foreign Legion. While I realise this will force me to learn French, that’s OK – I also understand that there is very little toilet training involved and someone else cooks your meals and washes up.

I am also quite taken by the idea of solitude, hot desert sunshine, a complete lack of children and the possibility that someone else may have to do my washing and ironing. If I fail the recruitment test, I will immediately put my hand up to become a nun, preferably in a silent order. Although that may involve cooking, I can probably cope with that as long as I get some time to knit. I will also get some time where I am not:

a) Shouting;
b) Checking that people are listening to me;
c) Getting them dressed;
d) Putting them on the toilet
e) Being bitten on the face – in public;
f) Trying to give children a cultural experience while they run around like mad things, shouting;
g) Apologising to other adults and children for my childrens’ behaviour;
f) Hoping the floor will open up and swallow me when I am exposed as an appalling parent.

From the above, you will probably gather that it has been a BAD DAY.

Unfortunately, I don’t think they let you resign from Motherhood. I am counting the hours and minutes until the Accountant appears at the door and I can drink my first (and second and third) glass of wine.

It started out inauspiciously at 6.30am, with a gentleman ringing our doorbell to tell us that one of the neighbour’s cows was out on the road. Generally, cows on the road are considered a BAD THING. Anyone who hits a cow with their car, no matter how appallingly badly, stupidly or illegally they are driving is in the right and the owner of the cow is at fault. A cow can do a great deal of damage to the average small car (or even the above average large car. The cow also comes out of it badly.

This meant throwing on clothes, calling the farmer (who lives about 25 minutes drive away) and walking quickly the 500 metres to the cow, whereupon the man who’d come to the door had already got the stupid animal into a paddock – entirely wasted walk in the cold.

I compounded the awfulnes of the day by opening the refrigerator door and having an entire, unopened bottle of wine fall to the floor and smashing, meaning massive and delicate clean-up operations involving 750ml of very nice wine and a shattered bottle worth of glass spread all over the floor while trying to get lunch for children. I am shattered at the idea that this bottle was wasted, but luckily it was in the back room on lino, not in the kitchen on floor boards - with children (perhaps it would not have shattered if it hit floorboards? A depressing possibility).

I took the beasts – sorry – children to the school performance of ‘Where the Wild Things Are’, a particular favourite book of ours. It was sweet, the Preps (5 and 6 year olds), Grade 1s and Grade 1 & 2 combined class (it’s a small school) each doing the same piece, with increasingly more speaking and singing as the age group increased.

Why is it that other children sit quietly, watch the performance and clap at the end, while mine crawl all over each other, other children and any adults unwise enough to sit near us? I am so going to make it my life’s work to embarrass the pants off them as they get older. Destructoboy even found an alternative route out of the hall, and took off at high speed across the school grounds.

So I’m tired, grumpy, and in need of caffeine and wine (not necessarily in that order). And knitting. I definitely need the calming and restorative powers of knitting. I finished the first side of Juno the other night and got up to the increases on the second front. I actually thought I’d done the left front and was working on the right, but closer scrutiny (I’m really bad at telling which is the right side when knitting rib) suggests that I’ve finished the right and am working on the left, so there you go. Regardless, one side is done and I’m doing the other. Probably finish that tomorrow night (frogging and the knitting godess permitting) and start sleeves. Hurrah – looking forward to taking a great leap into the unknown and knitting that collar.

No, no little discreet cables for me to practice my first cabling, Uh uh – I’m going the gusto – it’s a huge and very visible cable collar for my foray into this new skill.

Off to herd cats – sorry – children. Have a nice night – I intend to get these munchkins into their beds at the earliest opportunity. And then sit knitting quietly until my bedtime. I even start a new book in bed tonight – just finished Kim Harrison’s ‘For a few demons more’, great fun.

I’m wilting at the sheer excitement of my life!

6 comments:

Rose Red said...

sorry you've had such a crap day - hope the evening makes up for it!

Jejune said...

I would have resigned about a million times if I could - and now I have teenagers, shudder. It's a tough job, no doubt about it. And I only discovered the relaxing merits of knitting two years ago (slaps forehead).

Take as many incriminating photos as you can while they're this age, and store them in a secret place, for embarrassment and blackmail purposes when they're 21. Totally. Worth. It.

Hope tomorrow is better :)

Five Ferns Fibreholic said...

Oh dear...all that lovely wine....

Seriously.....he bit you on the face??? I am so with Jejune about the photos...and if you can..videos. Get as much ammo as possible.

While it may not feel like this will ever end (this period of life not just one particular day) it will. Just survive the arsenic hour and you'll be fine.

You could always trade them in for goldfish.....

Raven said...

What a crazy day. You really deserve some lovely wine and knitting. Oh yes. you deserve chocolate too.

What's this about being bit on the face?

Nora said...

Well, I broke my favourite latte glass this morning...

MadMad said...

I don't understand how I missed this post - it seems I obsessively click here for my daily dose, and here I am, two behind. Maybe it's that darned time difference. Anyway. Wow. That is a crummy day. Thank God for knitting, I say! (And a full cellar of replacement wine bottles...) But also, don't worry - other people's kids only seem better behaved. They stink, too. Maybe not AT THAT MOMENT (though probably even then, too, but you're noticing your own stuff) but the other times. I swear.