Friday, June 20, 2008

All the ladies who truly feel me

Friday, June 20, 2008
Is there anything more fucking boring than people going on about their children? Did you catch Riker's cutesy wutsey post? Sick making, huh? Where the fuck is the rage in that shit? Nowhere to be found.

But I love them you see, these girls, this Crew. It's not my fucking fault. Screw you, biological imperative. It's only because my stupid subconscious thinks they look like me even though nothing could be further from the truth. They look like their mother. They are Mini Common Laws to the core, the pair of them.

Look out folks, here comes the saccharine truck. It ain't got no breaks.

The night before last Data had a bad dream. About crocodiles. She was pretty upset. I was all in favour of telling her to get both over herself and back into bed but Common Law insisted that we allow her sleep with us. Half an hour of heel to kidney sound asleep jabbing later, I made the move to Data's reptile infested converted cot. Mmm, crampy. On the upside those chicken-ass crocodile motherfuckers didn't come near me.

At 6 o'clock Data awoke and demanded breakfast. Common Law rolled over as she moaned 'Ask your daddy.' So she did. I rolled over as I grunted 'Too early.' Thirty minutes later, having been forced to rise by darting pains in my iliotibial band, I discovered the second born sitting on our bed eating a bowl of Bran Flakes.

'Wow,' I thought to myself, 'Common Law must have gotten up. 'What next? A black president in the US?'

Highly attuned to any sarcasm whether spoken out loud or not, my beautiful not wife lifted her head from the pillow and intoned 'Thanks for doing that.' I should have kept my mouth shut and taken credit. But I was too intrigued, too terrified as to what I would now be facing in the kitchen, on the stairs. I needed the support. 'I didn't do that, I just woke up.'

We moved slowly, fearfully, down the stairs. Shockingly, there was no devastation in the stairwell. Stunningly, the stairs themselves were also mess free. We entered the kitchen. The fridge door was open, with a chair in front of it, but there was no spilt milk, no roadside Bran Flake bomb. My little three year old angel, my crazy kid, had successfully put together her own breakfast and transported it, without destruction, all the way to our first floor bedroom. We're bad parents, clearly, but Data has proved herself a capable and independent little soul. The time had come, it seemed to me, to draw up a CV and get that little lady out there on the job market.

This morning, emboldened by this incident, I asked Data if she would be preparing her own breakfast again.

'No.'

'Why not? You did it yesterday.'

'You're here.'

We did it together. But, y'know, sigh.

19 Johns and Janes for the comment whore:

fatmammycat said...

Aw, too cute. Good for her for using her excellent breakfast getting skills. When she's worked out the DVD player and GTA controls she'll never bother you in morning again.

I"m also super impressed by her unwillingness to make her own food once you're around. I agree completely. Making your own food on a regular basis is a thankless and tiresome task, getting food handed to you is ALWAYS better. Clever, this one, is.

problemchildbride said...

A cereal-affirming post, Gimme. Little tyke rocks.

Conan Drumm said...

Yeah, I seen the attitude on this one before.

Conan Drumm said...

Btw, who's left in the footie... the mainstream media either presume we are glued to it and need no further info, or that we've no interest.

Medbh said...

Hell, Mr. M can't have cereal without making a mess.
Impressive!
Data will be driving the car soon.

John Mc said...

Isn't it so wonderful when they can do something for themselves, and they are so happy about it they want to prove they can do other things, especially for you! I'm starting to train mine in wine and beer pouring.

I was a kids bday party yesterday, and myself and a friend were gloating over a third friend who has 2 very small kids, and all the work that goes with it. Even though my youngest is only 2.5 its still wayyyyy better than infants or barely toddlers. My kids spent the whole party entertaining themselves and I actually got to talk to adults.

gimme a minute said...

Fatmammycat:
She was operating the dvd player at eighteen months.

Operating it as a toaster. At least I think that's why she trying to shove her Liga into it.

Problemchildbride:
That she does. And rolls too, given half a chance.

Conan:
I like that you're coming here for your footballing updates.

Germany v Turkey and Spain v Russia in the semis.

Medbh:
Come Monday, she'll be as legally entitled as myself to be behind the wheel.

Wave goodbye to Gimme's L-plates, everyone.

John Mc:
As Selma or perhaps Patty once said 'The older they get the cuter they ain't'.

But as if to balance this out, the work levels come down week by week.

Common Law said...

The bit about me getting up is lies...I never got up.

Conan Drumm said...

Ah, is it better or worse if you're nicked without the plates up? Or did you pass go, collect full license?

Germany v Turkey sounds interesting in all sorts of ways. A German/Russian final also. How are you calling it now?

Rosie said...

train her to make tea. that was my mother's greatest achievement and, i suspect, the only reason she kept me.

gimme a minute said...

Common Law:
Just trying to make you look good, is all.

Conan:
I did not pass go. But sitting on my own in a car with L-plates is asking for trouble.

I'll be using Purple Danger sparingly until I get another test.

And my waters tell me Russia. But my waters tell me a lot of shit.

Rosie:
I don't drink tea. I genuinely don't understand the point of it.

But if I can get Data cleaning out and reloading the espresso pot then she'll have earned my respect if not her keep.

Conan Drumm said...

Hmm, Medbh'll kill me (if CL doesn't get me first) but usually all you need to do with your avge guard is roll the eyes slightly and say that's the Missus's plate, she's on her sixth provisional...

*ducks and runs away very fast in zig zags*

ps I got the clampers to release the car on Stephens Green once (without money passing hands) when a similar excuse was actually true.

catherine said...

Well done Data!

Now, if she can do one bowl, she can do two. Breakfast in bed for ma and da, sorted.

gimme a minute said...

Conan:
But if I'm stopped, they would want to see my licence, no?

Or is that only when you nearly kill them?

Catherine:
I won't be holding my breath.

Conan Drumm said...

Perhap... but if all your other paperwork is in order they may not press you on it. Depends, I know it's the law but I've never been asked for mine.

Medbh said...

Conan, you need to be beaten with wet noodles for trotting out that tired old stereotype.
Hee.
And there are women in the Garda, no?

gimme a minute said...

Conan:
Hmm. I'll be mostly focusing on not crashing I think.

Medbh:
There are women in the Garda, but I won't be having any trouble with them. I'll just bat my luxuriant lashes and refer to the officer in question as 'little lady'.

Easy.

Conan Drumm said...

Indeed there are, and fine women they are too! (better make it dry spaghetti this time)
They used to be called Ban Garda (as in Cumman na mBan) until it was droped as sexist.

Conan Drumm said...

...er Cumann...

 
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