What is it about men that they have to control the remote for the TV?
My husband, in all his majesty, sits in his chair, with the TV remote on one arm of the chair and the PVR remote on the other. The remotes can’t possibly sit on the coffee table where we can both reach them. Oh no, because that would mean he was giving up the power.
Hiding the TV remote controls is the one of the most cruel and inhuman punishments I’ve ever devised for him. He spends hours ransacking the house in desperation. He even bribes the children to help in the pursuit of the missing remotes.
And meanwhile what am I doing? I’m sitting back chortling with malicious enjoyment.
Ah… married life: it can be a joy sometimes!
You organise a rare adults only dinner with friends at a restaurant…
and somebody brings their kids!
Your husband actually remembers your birthday and gives you…
Your child asks you about sex…
in a crowded bus in peak hour!
The cat kills a mouse and leaves the corpse in the lounge room…
just as your mother-in-law arrives for lunch!
The baby throws up all over you…
in church at your wedding!
You plan a romantic tryst with your husband while the children are away from home…
and he falls asleep in front of the television!
Your teenager cooks himself lunch…
and it takes you 2 hours to clean up the kitchen afterwards!
A friend’s cat has kittens…
and they try to guilt you into keeping one!
You know your kid is lying to you…
and you find out later that he was telling the truth!
People on the bus…
Or how to juggle a job, a husband, 2 kids, a dog, a cat, 5 chickens, and a house and garden … and do it well.
Short Answer: You can’t!
Something always has to give, and in my case it’s always the housework. I find it’s a matter of survival, and I’m just too paranoid to turn my back on the kids.
I love my kids but I don’t trust them an inch. They’re always talking of the day when they’ll get power of attorney over me (as I develop “Galloping Senility”) and they can commit me to an Old Peoples’ Home. I think it’s all a fiendish plot to get their grubby little hands on my priceless collection of worn out kitchen appliances and mismatched cutlery.
My children announce to the world that they’re neglected, that I’m at work when they get home, that I’m not always there when they need to talk about things. They hark nostalgically back to “the good old days” when I was a stay-at-home-mum and was there to greet them with home-made biscuits and milk after school.
Mind you in those days they used to complain about not getting store-bought biscuits.
And they didn’t want talk to me then, either.
I’ve just rediscovered eBay auctions. But it’s a dangerous place for someone like me.
My friend loves Johnny Depp (specially the pirate roles) so I though it would be a great idea to get her an autographed photo of Captain Jack for her upcoming milestone birthday.
Well, easier said than done. Every time I found something and bid on it, someone else had the same idea. I start out with great plan – make a spending limit and stick to it. Yeah right!
The auction lasts for 10 days – and I am the highest bidder for nine days (and getting very cocky) – then in the last hour or so someone starts bidding against me. Now this becomes a matter of pride (or stupidity) so I keep bidding and so do they. The price goes higher and higher (I’m already way over my planned limit) but I keep going! Meanwhile the seller is sitting there in front of his computer, rubbing his hands with glee, as these two crazed women create a bidding frenzy over a silly photo.
I pride myself on being a sensible shopper – I look for bargains – but these online auctions will be my downfall. I don’t like losing (even at scrabble) so auctions bring out my competitive instincts. To make matters even worse my son joins me for the final countdown and eggs me on even further (he has obviously inherited my weakness).
p.s. I won the auction and bought the photo.
So that’s one present off the list – only another 14 more to go this year. See you at eBay – just don’t bid against me ok?
Now, I have to be honest, I really don’t like Reality TV. The shows don’t interest me. But “He who would like to be obeyed, but never is” loves them.
So to promote marital harmony, I came up with a concept that I would possibly watch.
I call it “BOSSES”.
How satisfying would it be to watch CEOs of big companies live like one of their entry level employees?
I’ve included an example below but I’m sure you could come up with a few more of your own.
e.g. The chairman of a giant supermarket chain has to be a “check-out chick” (excuse the pejorative) for an entire month.
They would have to work rotten shifts, get called in at the last moment, use public transport to get there, scramble to find childcare on weekends and public holidays, and live only on that wage for the whole month. The added bonus is that they would also have to put up with irate customers, and supervisors from hell.
I have to admit, it appeals to me.