Why do husbands, who are co-parents to small toddlers, inevitably decide that a Sunday morning quickie is just the thing that their poor stressed wives need?
Man - that is just SUCH bad timing. Inevitably, without fail, it is a story with no ending...
And of course, youcome join the party - after all, knowing the Lord & Master of the Manor's talents, it COULD, POSSIBLY, MAYBE lead to a lot of fun (even experience and mother's instinct have taught you elsewise)...and besides, living with the Lord & Manor of the house, it rubs off on you you start to think like an idiot too after a while...
But clearly husbands must realise, that toddlers sit up at 6:00 like mummies being risen from the dead. And they charge off in 5th gear.
So here you are,doing the horisontal bop contorting in all sorts of interesting positions under the duvet covers (gotta stay covered now - as being caught in dillicto fligrante is such a bad thing to happen...), and sure enough...
...the pitter patter of little feet down the passage...
...and the train of thoughts flash through your head in a succession of fears:
1. For FUCK's sake!!!!
1. Is he going to run faster than what we can compose ourselves?
2. Will I make it back to my side of the bed faster than he will bash the door open?
3. If I stay where I am -is he not going to notice and leave quicker?
4. What if he sees ANYTHING and we permanently damage the poor little subconcious and (unwittingly) turn him into apervert an emotional wreck with issues in later life?
5. Must we pretend to be asleep/playing/getting up/yawning/stretching?
So you lie tjoepstil -tied up & plugged in like a sailor's knot each one with their own head (sortof) on their own pillow.
"Look Mommy - I found the grinder." (Now there is a choice tool for the moment at hand!!).
He has been down to the workshop where Lord and Master of the Manor (who does not tidy up after his ass) left the door open last night.
"That's nice my baby - go play with it in the lounge."
(Who cares if the child might just decide TODAY is the day he is going to figure out how to plug into a socket (sorry - bad choice of words again!) and could possibly cut his arm off - or worse, destroy the lounge and kill one of the other children???? I HAVE NEEDS!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!)
"No. I play here - look I put it in the cot."
"No sweetie - go see Ouma is in the lounge. Go show her your grinder."
And will the idiot (idiot here being Lord and Master of the Manor) not lie still? He goes and twitches like some spastic toy of which the batteries have nearly run out (no, not that kind of toy - those you buy rechargeable. Especially if you are single as it will eventually cost you too much).
Glare.
Pinch.
Half-assed kick.
No movement.
OK.
Now I can (sortof) think.
"Mommy - why is it so dark in here - let me put on the light!"
"No, don't put on the light - Mommy wants to sleep. Go see Tom and Jerry is on the TV in the lounge."
Light goes on.
"There we go Mommy!"
"OK very nice. But Mommy wants to sleep some more - Mommy is very tired."
I switch the light off.
"Ag Mommy. That light is off again!!"
He switches the light on and spots Daddy lying alarmingly close to Mommy.
"Daddy that is my place!" whiney voice.
"Yes sweetie, Daddy is just lying there for a little while - go see where is Ouma."
This scenario continues with 3 or 4 more variations, with the Heir threatening to climb onto the bed to reclaim his space next to Mommy.
And please note - my mother IS somewhere within the house.
She will not think to herself: "Hey! It's Sunday morning 9:00 am. They haven't surfaced from the bedroom yet.
....maybe, just maybe, they are having some nookie...
Let me be kind, and get the kids out of the house into the lapa.
Or at least close the passage door.
And put on a video to keep them busy.
Or make them breakfast.
Or (heaven forbid) take them with me to the shop to buy milk or bread or something."
No.
(Do you think this might be why last night I dreamt I was alternately strangling and repeatedly hitting her with a small box over the head?)
Just because she doesn't get it anymore doesn't mean that I shouldn't!!!!!!
After some desperate please for the Heir to PLEASE go to the lounge, (of which none worked) I say to Lord & Master of the Manor: "OK - this isn't working for me. I cannot lie here in a frozen tantric position while the Heir is jolling about in the room. It is just a bit too freaky for me. Not on. We will do this again later."
And of course, then the whole day just goes wrong after that.
It is all a bit...frustrating! Like an itch that doesn't go away.
The whole family rocks up for a (full day) visit. So there is not even a REMOTE possibility of resuming the conversation at a later stage.
Thank goodness though...you can always scratch later when every one goes to sleep.
And oh! what a scratch it was!
Man - that is just SUCH bad timing. Inevitably, without fail, it is a story with no ending...
And of course, you
But clearly husbands must realise, that toddlers sit up at 6:00 like mummies being risen from the dead. And they charge off in 5th gear.
So here you are,
...the pitter patter of little feet down the passage...
...and the train of thoughts flash through your head in a succession of fears:
1. Is he going to run faster than what we can compose ourselves?
2. Will I make it back to my side of the bed faster than he will bash the door open?
3. If I stay where I am -is he not going to notice and leave quicker?
4. What if he sees ANYTHING and we permanently damage the poor little subconcious and (unwittingly) turn him into a
5. Must we pretend to be asleep/playing/getting up/yawning/stretching?
So you lie tjoepstil -
"Look Mommy - I found the grinder." (Now there is a choice tool for the moment at hand!!).
He has been down to the workshop where Lord and Master of the Manor (who does not tidy up after his ass) left the door open last night.
"That's nice my baby - go play with it in the lounge."
(Who cares if the child might just decide TODAY is the day he is going to figure out how to plug into a socket (sorry - bad choice of words again!) and could possibly cut his arm off - or worse, destroy the lounge and kill one of the other children???? I HAVE NEEDS!!! RIGHT NOW!!!!)
"No. I play here - look I put it in the cot."
"No sweetie - go see Ouma is in the lounge. Go show her your grinder."
And will the idiot (idiot here being Lord and Master of the Manor) not lie still? He goes and twitches like some spastic toy of which the batteries have nearly run out (no, not that kind of toy - those you buy rechargeable. Especially if you are single as it will eventually cost you too much).
Glare.
Pinch.
Half-assed kick.
No movement.
OK.
Now I can (sortof) think.
"Mommy - why is it so dark in here - let me put on the light!"
"No, don't put on the light - Mommy wants to sleep. Go see Tom and Jerry is on the TV in the lounge."
Light goes on.
"There we go Mommy!"
"OK very nice. But Mommy wants to sleep some more - Mommy is very tired."
I switch the light off.
"Ag Mommy. That light is off again!!"
He switches the light on and spots Daddy lying alarmingly close to Mommy.
"Daddy that is my place!" whiney voice.
"Yes sweetie, Daddy is just lying there for a little while - go see where is Ouma."
This scenario continues with 3 or 4 more variations, with the Heir threatening to climb onto the bed to reclaim his space next to Mommy.
And please note - my mother IS somewhere within the house.
She will not think to herself: "Hey! It's Sunday morning 9:00 am. They haven't surfaced from the bedroom yet.
....maybe, just maybe, they are having some nookie...
Let me be kind, and get the kids out of the house into the lapa.
Or at least close the passage door.
And put on a video to keep them busy.
Or make them breakfast.
Or (heaven forbid) take them with me to the shop to buy milk or bread or something."
No.
(Do you think this might be why last night I dreamt I was alternately strangling and repeatedly hitting her with a small box over the head?)
Just because she doesn't get it anymore doesn't mean that I shouldn't!!!!!!
After some desperate please for the Heir to PLEASE go to the lounge, (of which none worked) I say to Lord & Master of the Manor: "OK - this isn't working for me. I cannot lie here in a frozen tantric position while the Heir is jolling about in the room. It is just a bit too freaky for me. Not on. We will do this again later."
And of course, then the whole day just goes wrong after that.
It is all a bit...frustrating! Like an itch that doesn't go away.
The whole family rocks up for a (full day) visit. So there is not even a REMOTE possibility of resuming the conversation at a later stage.
Thank goodness though...you can always scratch later when every one goes to sleep.
And oh! what a scratch it was!
1 comment:
Hilarious!!
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