Yup! It tagged me
!!!! Here’s how it works: each blogger starts with eight to ten random facts slash habits about themselves… people who are tagged need to write posts in their own blog about the tag and post these rules… at the end of your post, you need to choose people to get tagged and list their names…
I tell you what- I’ll make a list- and then you can decide which of them are true and which aren’t. Howzat? Okay, ready…?
1. I take a bath or a shower- maybe one a week…
2. I would get a new tattoo every month if I could afford it.
3. One day- when Greebo, Taxi and Grampa Scratchy are gone- I will buy myself a Sphynx cat, which currently go for R3000 (£210 or $420 at the current rate of exchange).
4. I wish I could have a pet dragon. A couple actually, at least a little one for round the house and a big one to fly around on.
5. I can NOT work without music, and if I leave my earphones at home by some ridiculous twist of Murphy’s law, I am distracted and almost irritable all day.
6. I almost wish Damien could meet his father now so we could get things over with- the suspense is killing me- but at the same time, I half hope they never meet and I will always be enough for Damien… yes, yes- I know- its simple insecurity!
7. I occasionally miss someone I haven’t met yet.
8. I spoil myself by buying wedding magazines…
9. I have trained two of my cats- Greebo and Taxi- to sit, wave and walk in harness, on a leash.
10. The dust bunnies in my flat have names!
And I hereby tag… um… okay. Lemme think about this…
First I’ll tag Ydnic, who is a gorgeous and divine family member with a heart of gold (and I don’t think she’s ever been tagged before.
Then I’ll tag Supermom, who really is a super mom and takes spectacular photos too.
And third, I’ll tag Aquila, a wonderful writer with a license plate fetish.
Phats gets number four; he’s a sports nut with a big heart who Damien thinks is really cool.
Shane is my fifth tag; she shares her life as a mom and does a lot of ADHD research.
Katy, Katy, Katy (sometimes Dino) gets my sixth tag… love her to death, I feel like I’ve known her for ages.
Justin is a Photoshop pro and he gets my seventh tag.
And my eighth tag goes to Crystal, who does not have a mommy blog and who cusses a lot.
And I won’t take it personally if you don’t want to play or if you’ve done it already. You just may wake up one day with a horrid case of Sponge-Bob-aphobia… so don’t wonder where it came from, okay.
This story has done the email rounds for years and years- but it never gets old to my mind…
When you need to visit a public loo there is invariably a line of women waiting, you smile politely and take your place in the line, it finally gets to your turn, you check for feet under the cubicle doors.
Every cubicle is occupied.
But eventually a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the cubicle.
You get in to find the door won’t lock. It doesn’t matter, the wait has been so long and you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern “seat covers” is handy, but empty. You would hang your bag on the door hook if there was one, but there isn’t so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, yank down your pants and assume “the position”.
In this position your ageing, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You would love to sit down, but you certainly hadn¹t taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold “the position”.
To take your mind off your trembling thighs for a moment you reach for the toilet paper dispenser and your worst nightmare its empty, the toilet roll dispenser is empty. You hover looking around in the hope there’s a new roll behind you no such luck. Your thighs start to shake more. Then you remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday the one that¹s still in your handbag, which is now burning your neck & shoulders with the weight. So you contort your arm into a very unnatural position and start to fumble around in the deep dark depths of your handbag for that small crumpled used tissue no bigger than your thumbnail.
Someone pushes your door cubicle door and because the latch doesn’t work the door hits your head, which is bent forward from you holding your bag around your neck while you are rummaging for that used tissue, the door takes you by surprise and you start to lose your balance and topple backwards. “Occupied!” you scream, as you reach to push the door shut and drop the precious, tiny, crumpled tissue you had only just managed to retrieve with your index finger into an ‘unknown’ puddle on the floor.
If that isn’t enough you lose your balance altogether (or just give up) and… sit down … directly onto the TOILET SEAT.
Yes- it’s wet! You bolt up, knowing all too well that it’s too late.
Your thighs and bottom have made contact with every imaginable germ & life form that lives on the uncovered seat.
By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of cold water like a fire hose into the bowl which causes a spray of fine mist that completely covers your bum and runs downs your legs along with all the various life forms and down into your disheveled pants which have now dropped to your ankles with your hems soaking up that puddle from the floor.
The flush seems to suck everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.
At this point you give up. You’re soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You’re exhausted. You try to wipe your self with a piece of gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.
You cannot figure out how to operate the tap, so run your hands underneath it grateful for the two drops of water there and around the basin itself. You go to the towel dispenser past the line of women still waiting, where of course there are no paper towels so you move onto the hand blower, which yes you’ve guessed it that doesn’t work either!
You’re no longer able to smile politely to the women, but there’s an unspoken understanding between you all.
A kind soul at the very end of the line of women points out that you have a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. Where was that when you NEEDED IT??? You yank the paper from your shoe, plonk it in the woman’s hand and tell her warmly, “Here, you just might need this”.
As you exit you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men’s. Annoyed, he asks, “What took you so long, and why is your handbag hanging around your neck?”
This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with public loos. It also helps explain to the men why it really does take us women so long and it also answers that commonly asked question “Why women always go to the loo in pairs?”
It’s so your friend can hold the door, hang onto your bag and pass you tissue under the door!
And I’m more than a little disappointed! I mean, can you blame me…? He NEVER comes right out and asks me to go to the school unless it’s something really BIG in his mind. And of course, for a brief moment he actually needed me again…
I so relish playing Damien’s advocate, and I was getting all fired up to go and give them a piece of my mind- politely of course- I don’t want them picking on my kid ‘coz I was a bitch!
Then yesterday in the car, en route to Damien’s AD/HD doctor, he tells me I don’t have to go to the school anymore.
I resisted the temptation to whine about it and plead with him to let me do it anyway… and then I asked him why- since I want to be sure he knows I won’t embarrass him and make a scene- and that its part of my job to stick up for him.
He says it’s cool. He took some of his books to school- the Warhammer Chaos Space Marines Codex and a book I gave him on drawing fantasy art- and pleaded his case both to his Afrikaans teacher and to the other teacher he was taken to (the one who did the lecturing and the praying). He said he spoke to them himself and they then both apologised to him.
I am immensely impressed at how he stuck up for himself!
Yet at the same time, I find myself once again underestimating him and wondering if he’s just telling me this so I won’t go to the school…
Every so often I wish he was still little so I could be the mommy all the time like I used to!
I dunno if you saw it- but Kevin Spacey played the part of Roger ‘Verbal’ Kint in the brilliant movie The Usual Suspects, and one of the things he said in the movie has ALWAYS stuck in my head as being frighteningly true…
“The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he did not exist.”
Here’s another example of just how successful Satan is here on earth. Are they serious? What on earth is this world coming to bunnies!!?!
What do you think I should do?
I dunno if I’ve posted them before, but these are some of Damien’s drawings that I have scanned into my laptop and saved on disc. There are so many of his artworks that I’ve lost over the years and I don’t ant to lose any more…
So what’s up I hear you ask…?
Well, I had training today and I got home a little before Damien- so instead of me fetching him, his lift dropped him off at our flat. You know, I know my darling child so well it’s scary- and when he walked in the door I could tell something was up even though he hadn’t uttered a word.
I said howdy and asked how his day was. He answered with “Hello” and “Fine”, put his bag down, and parked himself on the couch. Then he disappeared into his bedroom and about an hour later he reappeared and said to me- “I’m not allowed to draw fantasy pictures at school anymore.” He was wearing his “I’m really pissed off” look too. Yes, he has a look.
I frowned at him and asked why? It didn’t make much sense to me…
He told me he had to draw an invitation to a party for Afrikaans. It was a rock party, so he drew a flaming skull with a chain hanging from where the ear would be and an “R” on the chain- for “Rocker”. His Afrikaans teacher tore it up. She actually tore it up! Then she told him it was too, um… how can I put it… er, too evil for her taste. WTF?! If I remember correctly, every boy who can draw- even a little bit- goes through the guns, skulls, cars and tanks phase!!
Then he had to write a letter for Afrikaans. He plays Warhammer- and his army is made up of Chaos Space Marines, which he bought with his birthday money. Then he was told he wasn’t allowed to play Warhammer with the school club- at least not with his own army- because “they’re evil”. I was a little perplexed, because I’ve always been watchful about the things I allow him to play with or watch on TV. But he said he was okay with it and I let it go. And he still plays with friends on weekends. And he still helps make terrain for the school club, which he enjoys immensely. Ooer, I’m getting sidetracked… back to the letter- he wrote to a Chaos Space Marine Daemon Lord. Had I seen it, I woulda suggested he write to someone (something, heh heh) else… but apparently this same teacher tore it up too- and told him it was inappropriate and he had to redo it!
And I know it’s not just me, because Damien asked me to speak to the school and I asked my mommy darling if she thought I may be over reacting (as I’m sure you’ve noticed I have a tendency to do). And take note- I have not yet articulated a swear word or even raised my voice- I’ve counted to ten about 50 times- but so far I am being very composed and playing the part of the mature mom.
Anyhoodle*, he then tells me that for art they had to design a mural. His is graffiti like. It says “Freedom for All”, has a machine gun in a red circle with a stripe through it (like a no-smoking sign) and a couple of smoking bullet “holes” in the drawing. He was working on it during a free period when this same teacher saw it and asked him to go with her to the office, and to take his art book with him. Once in the office, he was lectured at about everything from Satanism to drugs and prayed over for almost an hour!
Now… please remember, loyal bunnies- I am a Christian- and I have mentioned more than once that I am worried about Damien’s Christian education because I left it too late… but his artistic and creative ability is a God given talent- and I like to nurture it. And we have spoken about his chosen subject matter… as much as I love fantasy art I keep an eye on what he’s doing. You all know how he and I talk.
So I’m going to the school to talk to them. I’m going to be calm and collected and remind them how much Damien likes their school and how much he has grown and improved this year. And then I’m going to tell them that as much as I appreciate them caring so much about Damien- I don’t agree with how they’re handling the situation- and I want them to stop doing it.
Oh, and Damien and I have spoken about it, and as his granny Darling said he’d best prepare himself for criticism of his art. I just told him to leave the dragon drawings for home and for me for now!
*smooches, oh goddess of coping skills