maybe I can write this funny

I have just had a complete meltdown in the bath because it went cold...well, it was partly because it went cold and partly because I thought my husband was looking after the kids but instead I could hear him playing video games.

REALLY??? How old are you?

I have completely married a 12 year old and given birth to 2 of his children. Am I a paedophile? Am I like that teacher who had that ongoing affair with her student. I just tried to Google her name, but there are about 500 of these people apparently, so at least I'm not alone. Maybe we could start a club for people who cry in the bath because they can't believe they are dating boys barely approaching puberty.

It feels like if turn my back for 30 seconds then he is off...down the hall he goes (not down the pub...at least that is somewhere I would want to go hang with him) but down the hall with his 12 year old online friends, playing video games. Wherefore I become a mom of 3...

I have told him this makes me crazy, he knows. And if I start walking down the hall, he throws down the controller like it was last months issue of Jugs, and comes up the hall like he was 'just on his way anyway and what's the big dea and I should get over myself'.

And to be honest, I wish it didn't bother me and I wish that I had some adolescent activity that I went to do alone, like making up a dance to the latest Debbie Gibson top 40 single in front of my mirror...or maybe cutting up my Seventeen magazine to make collages for the football players before the big middle school playoff.

But i don't.

So my next tactic was trying to do things he would like...I tried to look nice, and clean up the house and bake for him...I tried to watch Top Gear...I even tried to watch F1 racing. That was exciting...on the sofa, alone, watching cars drive around. Whooppee.

So as a last ditch effort before I absolutely go to town on the PS3 in the night with an ice pick, I thought I would write about it and see if it became funny this way. I'm still feeling teary, and annoyed, and frustrated, and totally totally like a big loser, but there you go.

Maybe I'll get a boyfriend ...who's like 17 and drives his dad's use Buick, and at least we can make out in the back seat.


PS - I waited to publish this because I wanted to make sure I wasn't being too harsh...and right now he is sitting with our 2 year old building a puzzle...and I didn't even have to ask. So it isn't all bad...this is after I told him that I was going to take an ice pick to that bloody machine though...

Pigeon death

We have a cat named Giles.

Giles is typical in that he comes to you when he is hungry and then sits in my spot on the bed for most of the day.

He also brings us the odd woodland creature. Sometimes your pet needs a pet...for a while at least until he challanges the creature to a very uneven fight to the death. Giles has yet to lose. He must have had training somewhere before we adopted him.

So this morning, per usual, Catherine comes into our room to get us up. At this point if we are both still in bed and Alex hasn't escaped to work at some un-Godly hour, there is a bit of an unspoken battle called: 'Who can pretend be asleep the longest.'

This morning I knew I was going to win after I heard Catherine say:

'Daddy, there is a poo in the hallway'

And Alex replied 'I am sure it isn't a poo.'

And Catherine insisted 'It IS a poo daddy, come and see.'

And Alex stalled 'Do you think mommy or I pooed in the hallway last night?' The answer was an emphatic 'NOOOOOO daddy! Come and SEEEEEEEEE!'

All this time, I am under the covers making sure to keep my breathing slow and steady ... and basically trying not to giggle.

So Alex gets up and this is what I hear:

'SEEEEEEE Daddy a poo!'

'That is not a poo Catherine, that is the remains of a pigeon.'

'Is it dead?'

'Yes.'

'How did it die?'

'Giles killed it.'

'Oh. I touched it.'

'Well then, please go wash your hands.'

'Ok.'

I am starting to think we need to get a bouncer for the cat flap.

And then there was a bit of commotion with a plastic bag and Alex swearing at the pigeon remains I assume, as I was still practising my deep breathing and remembering the dream I had about Bon Jovi before all this excitement happened.

I am leaving off the background soundtrack that is Stuart screaming for someone to come and get him...as that is pretty much a given every morning and so I have learned to tune it out.

At this point I think I definitely need to post this on Facebook as it is just too good not to share. Out from under the covers, I reach for my phone. Once the phone is in hand, the 'I am still sleeping game' is pretty much over. It doesn't take Alex long to come and stand over me looking pretty put out and says in a loving tone only I can hear 'Get up.'

Turns out Giles left us the head, a wing and the carcass and that Alex listened to him eat it for about an hour starting at 4am which means that he is way better than I am at the 'pretending to be asleep' game.

Maybe I need to get some tips.