WEEK 2 OF THE SCHOOL/UNI HOLIDAYS IN DYSFUNCTIONALITY HOUSE (said in northern Big Brother accent).
I am still alive. Barely.
*Right eye twitching*
So, I’m not normally one to go all ‘domestic’ on you, but the impact of having teenagers in my home PERMANENTLY over the past ten days will definitely send me prematurely to the loony bin unless I am allowed to vent.
I AM slowly surrendering to the number of teenage bodies and associated life-forms that loiter permanently in my lounge room and in front of my fridge.
The drugs help, as did the Easter chocolate, but I have to admit that there are still some triggers that no amount of wine helps.
Any one of the following six teenage triggers, when committed by my own flesh and blood, can propel me the ceiling as quickly as if a rocket thruster was attached to my ass, and I begin to shout expletives and issue threats and curses more suited to one of the witches in Macbeth.
I know it’s hard for them, poor loves, what with a brain not yet fully formed and their naive and vain insistence that the world revolves around them not yet dispelled by the reality of work.
And, as they persist in reminding me, again and again – this is THEIR HOLIDAY, after all (!)
BUT, SORRY KIDS, WE HAVE A MINOR COMMUNICATION PROBLEM WITH THE FOLLOWING:
- When you don’t put your dirty plates in the dishwasher and leave them to congeal on the side until I come home to load them. Surely, the cognitive development needed to open a door and place a dish in a rack is not that great?
- When you claim to be ‘too tired’ to help me when I ask you to do ANYTHING or walk the dog, but then you stay out until all hours of the night with your friends.
- When you use every towel in the bathroom and then leave them in a soggy mess on the floor of your bedrooms so that they are un-useable for anyone else. AND THEY YOU OFFER CLEAN TOWELS TO YOUR FRIENDS!
- When you eat all the best food in the house and leave me with the healthy shit that you were supposed to eat so that I could get my ‘good parent’ award.
- When you offer your free-loading friends, (who wouldn’t know the difference between a Chardonnay and a Riesling) my favourite and fucking expensive wine!
- When you moan about how there’s never any food in the house because all your fucking friends have helped themselves to it.
Someone please tell me at what age the brain is fully developed?