Sooo…In March 2016, I DIVORCED.
DIVORCE – AKA “Discussions Involving Vices Openly Regurgitated Carelessly Ended (or Enforced). Either way, Divorce means its ended..ended…ended. Its over. Accept it, feel the pain, and move on. Boy have I moved on. Happily, freely, independently.
Yes…yes, I know….poor “its sooo common in this day and age” me.
During this less than joyous period in my young (almost 40!!!!) life, my three children turned a year older. Clearly not old enough to drive, pay bills, wash their own bums, cook, or buy alcohol…yet, alas, they turned a year older. Apparently these “fun” years fly by and I should “cherish” them…because later on they “wont want to hang out with” me. Is this a promise?
OH FUCKING …..Really? Whoever says this stupid, shit to me is clearly one of the following:-
(a) Still married, therefore sharing the pain with someone else, while still arguing about who is “more tired”…. you know the drill.
(b) Have staff/alzheimer’s stricken relatives who actually LIKE kids…and don’t start on me, you Alzheimer’s trolls…I had a parent who lost his sight, hearing AND memory….AND NO….DAD STILL HATED FUCKING KIDS (he remembered that much…despite my being his favourite 🙂
(c) Has a Filipino nanny who hasn’t understood the minimum wage criteria us ex Europeans used to abide by, before BREXIT chavs voted us out. WANKERS!!! It wasn’t about IMMIGRATION YOU BENEFIT FLEECING, “LETS ‘AV ANOTHER KID FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO PAY FOR” IGNORANT RACISTS HATERS ….. UGH…I’m sooo moving to America, at least they get guaranteed sun when Google says.
(d) They are clearly delusional and have never been woken while in a deep sleep (ahhh…those were the old days…) to deal with a sick/tired child saying the following:
“Mummy fluff my pillows?/I saw a tortoise on the ceiling! GET IT NOOOOOOWWWWW!/ Can we have Xmas tomorrow?, Can we have Xmas every Friday?/ Mummy, are you really wearing a Weetabix face mask?/ No one will ever love you in the Onesie” moment….
I’m feeling wiser. Tougher. Harder. Sadder. Time to sign up with the dating agencies and lie about EVERYTHING. Any kids? NOOOOO. Divorced? “Me?! NOOOO wayyyy!!” Yes….time to lie….
Ive definitely owned becoming a “single Mum”. I’m not yet chewing tobacco, or working the night club toilets, or attempting an “Erin Brockovitch” moment…To be fair, I’ve been a lawyer before and that’s actually shitter than being a single parent…
Anyhow…according to my entourage (kids), I RULE. And apparently they are hugely protective over me. Hearing that statement makes me feel, PROUD, HAPPY, FULL OF HOPE.
And before I press on….as its been crazy busy recently (again…who knew the Filipino nannies did so much work in Hong Kong!?)
I HAVE to quote a blogger who I think is BRILLIANT (and of course, funny)….
I’m even willing to lose my entire fan base (Mum & great Uncle Ahmedabdulrezaghassemi) to this guy…It was something he wrote a while ago that screamed,
@samaverycomedy ….Twitter people if you want to read up on some pretty fucking brilliant, honest (as only a comedian can be) writing, google Sam Avery. I recently stumbled upon Sam while trying to not get all OCD’ish about Tweeting (what am I, 10 years too late!?)…
anyhow…after another relentless, unforgivable, thankless, yet gratifying (I had to say that for Social Services benefit) day…I read something on Twitter that made me laugh aloud (and I only do that when reading The Sun Newspaper cartoon captions).
Sam Avery stated (and yes, I DID ask before quoting him):-
“Reading to 1 y/o. Son grabs book. I carry on flawlessly without the book because apparently the words are now TATOOED ON MY SOUL”.
This comment sums up my day to day life….us parents….who get zero thanks, are called lazy for doing school runs, being woken at any hour of the night, nurturing our sick child, feeding them when they’re well, watering them when theyre ill, encouraging them when they need/don’t need it, and comforting them when you both do too.
I have spent many a wondrous night (not under the stars, mind) reading stories, and singing songs with my trio. These songs and stories I genuinely know off by heart, and can even recall (in my mind) the pictures in the books too…that’s how often I do this parenting thing. That’s how much I CARE. SHIT.
Those little buggers have somehow, sneakily, pulled me into their clan….I sing THEIR songs (they don’t give a shit about mine….nor do I now as I’d rather do theirs anyway)…they have got me juggling plates, singing songs, drawing impromptu cartoon characters (IVE ACTUALLY PRACTICED Mickey Mouse for on the spot “Mummy, draw Mickey for my friend Jimbob”!!!!!?) because they need something to colour in while I cook their dinner and massage their feet…..FUCK ME.
I AM A PROUD PARENT.
I BLAME THEM.
Next blog will be about how to disassociate yourself from all of the above. My Mum told me “This is NEVER going to happen…unless you die”. She DID say this while I attempted to (once again) climb back into her womb for a short period of “calm and rest”. Apparently I need to stop calling her 20x a day too (selfish). Great.
Enjoy the summer parents (full time ones that is!). Its going to be tough….but possibly, enjoyable (with staff, family, and Xanax, to help you through).
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Today…I threw a party for 58 kids. FIFTY EIGHT KIDS. IN MY HOME. Not at a VENUE. AT HOME. OLD SCHOOL. A PARTY “AT HOME?!!” Most parents commented… ”WOW…YOURE BRAVE!”. I’m “brave”? Why? Im “brave” because I’m at home? In my own house? Because I’m doing what our parents did for years while we grew […]Continue Reading
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