Holidays without the kids…

Ok girls…. I’d be lying through my teeth if I said I didn’t miss my munchkins (Itchy & Scratchy).  Plus, The Captain doesn’t appear to care as much as I do that we have (1) left them with our Helper in Hong Kong (yes, shes wonderful & yes we have cameras….) (2) time alone together just us … well…. it’s a bit harsh no?  I mean, we’re meant to be getting on brilliantly.

I had images of him chasing me into the ocean waves, or strolling in the sun hand in hand, laughing, joking, gossiping (basically… I was imagining a gay friend, I had the bonus of having sex with). BUT, the reality…. we have just agreed, we want to literally harm each other.  The Captain told me to “go ahead and order another Cosmo” as I’m such a joy when drinking … which of course I did (hey, you don’t need to tell me twice), and I told him “sometimes I’d like to hold a noose round your neck and keep tightening it”.  YES I SAID THAT.  Big fucking deal.

Who isn’t married and comes out with worse comments… seriously?  I’ve actually edited some things that took place at lunch-time today. I was  in a very jovial, almost over happy mood after indulging in my new book by Russell Brand (my not-so-secret celeb crush), “My Booky Wook” and was enjoying myself, laughing out loud (he’s fucking funny), until HE (AKA “The Captain”) turned up to “talk” about my behaviour (hey, for the record… I wasn’t sat there without a top on indulging in any sexual/illegal act….well…not today anyway).

What is it with the new age /metrosexual man and their need to chit chat!?  What happened to just relaxing with a cocktail and no feelings chit-chat bullshit?  After a row at lunch which involved many a familiar line about how I hated his family, him mine (people staring at us both while this took place, but The Captain always does like a good dramatic scene) and how neither of us can agree on anything….  I then text my troop of fab girls back home who told me “I’m loved” and then I wanna cry and jump on a plane back to London, Heathrow ASAP.

Even on holiday in the Philippines, I want to be home. I want my family (who drove me maaaad), my girlfriends (who I always, always love being with) and the biggest loves of my life, the kids. The Captain and his brood though… well at the moment… I’m all done on exhausting arguments about family, and whose is more “normal, better, wierd” etc.  I’ve always had to spend more time with his than mine, mainly because mine like a quiet peaceful life, and the Captains love drama, have more religious holidays, followed by arguing and me always feeling like the odd Duckling in the crowd (I didn’t say Ugly, I said Odd).  That will never ever change, nor do I want it to.

I am now stuck between a rock and a hard place.  Does anyone know what that actually means because it sounds to me like I’m pretty much fucked either way?!   I want out of the whole non-stop arguing. I’m not “lucky” or “ungrateful” because of my new bull-shit fake affected life in Hong Kong.  I’m alone, I have 2 small babies (who I have had to leave in HK to “prove” my love to The Captain) and I miss my Mum (yes, I’m also a big girls blouse…. anyone know where that saying comes from?!).  I wanna go home.  If anyone reading this can give me a ticket home (plus enough space for 2 babies) and no Legal crap about an additional accompanying adult for baby no.2 (any infants under 2 can’t travel without an adult), please email me.

I want to go to London without ANYONE but MY family & friends knowing.  I want to go home.  The Captain today… well… he just sealed the deal on how hard this relocation business is.  I thought I was doing really well until he told me I was “ungrateful”.

Ungrateful!?  Have a look at our Twins from 2 years of trying IVF.  Have a look at your new home that I moved us into, once again (for the 3rd time…he didnt unpack anything but his underpants), have a look at how happy and chilled your kids are (they get that from me/wine).  Have a look Captain.  I have done everything you wanted and i tried very hard.  Today…. I’m mentally packing up and heading home ….. even if I do have to live with your Mum as shes the only person who has any room in her house.

Damn it… I need to re-think things or start playing the fucking lottery.

ps. As I’m writing this, the family on the next balcony to ours is KICKING OFF. Big fight between Mum/Dad about “respect” (I’m drinking my freebie bottle of red vino and blatantly staring!) So you see…. EVERYONE is fighting and yet we all put on a fabulous bull-shit, we’re so fucking happy show.  I feel better now….. right…. errr… where’s The Captain?!

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About Sharzad Hime-Michaels

A (40++) Punk “wannabe”. SW15 London born/bred, Kind (‘ish), Strict (normal) “parent“ of 3 children under 18 (twins included). Divorced. A great cook. Shockingly argumentative after 9pm on a Monday evening...

2 responses to “Holidays without the kids…”

  1. Parental Parody says :

    I blame the tropical bloody romantic setting crap. Seeing 20-something couples swanning around all loved up. Bastards! We go to Bali at least once a year, and unserimoniously dump the kids on a Nanny. Then proceed to argue over shopping, restaurants, the kids, life in general, why the sky is blue – you name it. Not a day passes where one or both of us don’t hiss “just fucking die!” in the heat of the moment, with the other party yelling out “gladly!”. We are a vision of holiday bliss, I swear… Only, in our case, the endless cocktails make us like each other again. It’s like a heady roundabout that just keeps going around! Anyway what I mean to say is, you are normal. I’d be a blithering idiot without my #1 Hubby, despite seriously wishing him death or serious injury regularly. So, no need to go all the way to London. Just come to Australia. We can plot the demise of each others’ husbands, and work out if we’ll make enough from the insurance money to hire a live-in housekeeper/nanny/chef/personal trainer/cleaner/chauffeur/pool boy/bar tender.

    • fruitlessbloom says :

      I was just about to smother the old ballsack ‘n chain (whose happily snoring away next to me after a HUGE meal) …. until i got your comment. I totally agree on the 20, 30 and now even 40 somthings who are all fucking walking around with their airy fairy loved up bull-shit smiles (which make my arse twitch) and I’m thinking….. “What the hell are these people on?!” In fact, I think I may have actualy told someone on my alcoholic rampage yesterday how “sickeningly in love” they were, which they, of course, took as a compliment, but the hubby saw I was actually feeling sorry for these soppy blind bastards….. they clearly are in Phase One of their relationship (one year together). As it turns out, we made our peace today, after agreeing (ok… I didnt really agree but have to keep shit together) that 4 Cosmopolitans before 4pm is not the way forward as, apparently, I get a tad argumentative/vindictive/bitchy. I pointed out that, (a) Im tired all the time and this is my moment to sleep and drink openly (rather than out of a mug…. usually in a cupboard) and (b) I’ve decided Im too bloody knackered for a shag (which I think the poor git was expecting daily). The booze does usually start us off all happy and flirty, until we start “talking” and then… well, thats it…. I get sooo fucked off (with everything…. even air), I start ordering Cocktails while pulling a face at The Captain. The “face” is usually one of those sarcastic expressions you pull with a fake/twisted smile as I punish him by calling out to the 12 year old Barman “Give me a strong Cosmo this time sunny boy and don’t be shy on the Vodka either!!” Its usually at this point that The Captain wants to run, bury himself in some Filipino sandcastle (have you seen what they make on those beaches!!?? They’ve got bloody lights and everything!) and he’s praying I’ll remain normal.

      Today, i went diving, drank Mint tea, and it was the Captain who ordered a few drinks, giggled, farted, belched and passed out. Men are like dogs. Very easy. I threw him a bit of sex too just to keep him quiet. It worked. I’m now looking into cheap flights to Australia and think I’ll come live in your backyard (or a cupboard with unlimited Vodka).

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