The best, the best, the best of me

I’ve got another confession to make. These words aren’t mine. Dave Grohl, Mr Foo Fighter God, you’ve called me out. Someone is getting the best, the best, the best, the best of me. Not in the way he thinks though. His jealousy is unwarranted. Grohly – I’m all yours.

I’m not entirely sure who that someone is yet. This week I’m in disk defrag mode, pulling all the bits apart and putting some bits back into the places where they should probably go… Hmmmm technical computer analogy not really working for this technomoron. In Face First speak, I’m trying to do THINGS, times MANY, and am only just pulling off little bits of little things. Kids, not yelling, sorting before and after school care, trotting off to interviews, and being PROFESSIONAL (ermergherd – wearing heels and smiling at the same time!! Don’t make me. I won’t.)

One of them is not blogging. I have about three draft posts glaring at me, saying ‘Hi! I’m in BITS! Will you please finish something?’ And I go back and yell at them ‘POSTS! Can’t you see I’m doing everything and my disk is being defragmented? Surely that means something to you since you live in a COMPUTER!? I will come back and complete you when the bits are in all the right places! And all the words are not being given to other people! OK?’ And they meekly agree that it sounds reasonable. Posts are good like that.

I won’t be writing my best post today, so I’m offering something from the past I quite liked. It’s long. Apologies. It was about a LONG DAY. (Bit like Stephen King’s The Long Walk). The future? There will be many, many words. Hopefully good ones, with all the bits in the right places.

‘Auspicious’ dates – heralding a load of crap?

The 12th of the 12th of 2012, what have you done for me lately? Apparently you were supposed to be some mystical karmic oooh-ahhh date of significance. All you brought me was a day of shitpoo.

I’m sorry I can’t express it more mature terms. I could try, but it would sound like ‘on this day of December, in the 12th year of the 21st century, I was arraigned with torrents of excrement, metaphorical in origin, which may or may not have been borne of a cosmic nature, heralding impending doom and the end of our time, or in fact may just have been another ordinary day worthy of flushing’. Utter rubbish.

So the Mayans stopped making their calendar. Maybe they just got bored. Seriously, if you just had to keep writing down numbers, over and over, wouldn’t you find something else to do and stop? Just because the calendar on your wall runs out at December 31, 2012, doesn’t mean there won’t BE a New Year’s Day. Of course there will be, full of headaches and regret. You just need to go down to Westfield and buy your 50% off 2013 calendar, as soon as your vision clears. It’s not the Mayans’ fault they didn’t have Westfield.

Source

This was my flushable day. It started with the dentist (again. If you want to see why this is AGAIN – see here). This is something of an ongoing saga for Little L, so some backstory: I hauled little L away from the last dentist who was about to extract the hurting tooth that had recently had baby root-canal, in the chair, telling me ‘every anaesthetic takes your child one step closer to the grave’ like she DIDN’T HAVE EARS. She was so traumatised from his treatment and ‘tap tap – yep I have to pull it out – here 5-year old girl, swallow a tablet goodbye’ I had to carry a sobbing child into this gorgeous children’s dentist last visit, while they gently coaxed her trust back. Too scared to be treated, we had to go back again today, while they did some safeguarding of some early decay on the top and had to put a filling in. Diabetes can TRASH your teeth. Who knew?! Not me.

Anyway, that done gently and nicely, we got on with the day. It went on in the usual as can be sometimes crappy fashion. Mini-fights, complaints, Mexican standoffs, whingeing etc. but then this afternoon playing up the road at a neighbour’s house WE LOST THEM. Little L and her friend took off out the front door which I hate them doing but they’ve done before to be cheeky, not telling us before they took off. I grabbed my bag and went to follow, knowing they are pretty careful when they cross our quiet road, but prepared for my ‘don’t do that!’ rant when we caught them up. We were chatting, saying goodbye while they had gone at 5-year old speed, so by the time we’d arrived in my front door and found nothing, and no answer, then raced back up the road to their place to see if they’d ducked around the back to trick us, hearts were pounding and parents were yelling. We were asking neighbours, yelling in the vacant lot, looking down the easement, and running breathless, of course thinking the worst… There have been reports before of cars trying to lure kids in the neighbourhood.
More frantic yelling, and they emerge, blessedly, sheepishly, from my house where they’ve been hiding in my bedroom. Hilarious. Starting to yell, instead we hug, so very relieved.

Recourse came later, and remorse, but little L’s remorse was extreme, and hysterical, with sobbing and screaming. Emotional outburst? Blood glucose check. Sure enough, she’s quite hypoglycaemic (very low blood sugar), and forgot (again) to mention she was feeling bad. Yay. Diabetes strikes again. Topping off a great day!

Just as she’s slowly climbing back towards the safe zone, above 4 and safe to leave unattended, a holler comes from the bathroom from little A: ‘muuuummmeeeeee the bath’s overflowing! Quick!’

Blessed I am. My cup overfloweth, as does my bath. The river in the bathroom was not too dire, and finally, all is peaceful as I lap my gin. I’m a spectacular human specimen today, and I’m high-fiving my superior and intelligent mothering skills. Not. Which is probably a good thing in light of what follows.

I watched a Stephen Hawking doco the other night suggesting that it would be a super-great idea (he didn’t use those words obviously, he’s a bit smart and sounds like a computer) if we looked for somewhere else to live other than Earth, what with the likelihood of it being smashed to smithereens by an asteroid, or being nuclear irradiated.  As he sensibly pointed out, INTELLIGENCE is not so important to survival, and may in fact be the key to our downfall. Amoeba and microbes have been getting by just fine for millions of years without intelligence, and yet dinosaurs with their tiny brains couldn’t make it through a little sauna time.

I think there’s something in this for all of us. Perhaps we need to get back to our petri-dishes of gin, and soak away our intelligence. Maybe then we’d stand a better chance of survival? I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on a red-hot life on Mars in a spacesuit, living in a bunker on dehydrated peas. As far as theories go, this is probably not quite SBS-standard, and I suspect Stephen Hawking may poke a couple of holes, but it’s good enough for me after today, and I’m off to soak it away with a tonic or three, splashing in gin.

xx

Is someone getting the best, the best, the best of you? 

Throwing myself on Rachel’s lounge at Theviblog today. You should too. It’s soft and comfy.

the-lounge-logo

19 thoughts on “The best, the best, the best of me

    • Stupid smirky posts. Chop off their heads!!! You guillotinixtrix or whatever the hell the female version of a guillotiner-man is called!!

  1. Hoping one day that Stephen Hawking (or someone of his ilk) can explain why the Foo Fighters became more popular than Nirvana?

    (Cue sound of angry blogger spitting gin back into glass – RIGHT!!!! HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT!!! Kim promptly finishes FOUR blog posts about Dave Grohl/idiots who don’t appreciate the Foo Fighters and other such subjects. Go, girl!)
    The Tunnel recently posted…Clive Palmer in bid for Nelson MandelaMy Profile

  2. Bloody life does get in the way right?! I LOVE Stephen Hawking and his voice – what an amazing dude, and to think he can’t speak , there’s got to be a conspiracy theory why that happened to one of the most incredible and intelligent minds in the WORLD! I kinda wish I could don heels again and be professional, but I just get to sit in my uggs and jeans and write from home :) xx
    Emily @ Have a laugh on me recently posted…Wanna join my club where parents can make wildly inappropriate comments and confessions?My Profile

    • Stupid life. Gets in the way of everything. I’ve done the freelance uggs and jeans thing for the last 5 years. I need a REGULAR PAYCHECK baby. I’ll report back. I may run screaming from the train and the blisters after a week xx

    • I misses you too lovely lady. Defragging seems to have spat my keyboard keys all over the floor, dammit. Neglect of the blog alert! Alert! xx

  3. Somehow I’m busy imagining a man with the face of Dave Grohl and the mind of Stephen Hawking … but, snapping back to the real world, I remember your very long day and can relate to the feeling of shitpoo. Sounds like you’re cramming an awful lot into your days now though too! Good luck getting one of those high heeled jobs x
    Lara @ This Charming Mum recently posted…An interview with author Charity NormanMy Profile

    • Oooooh you make the BEST daydreams Lara. That is quite a man. I wonder what he’d sing about? I’ve got the job now. The cramming continues, as evidenced by the horrible neglect of my blog and everyone else’s. The high heels? Best go buy me some, toot sweet. xx

  4. “Of course there will be, full of headaches and regret.” Headaches – check. Regrets? Never! JE NE REGRETTE RIEN! RIEN I SAY!

    I think I’d rather die out as a smart species than continue to limp along as a stupid one, if its all the same to everyone else. And it will be, mostly, cos – stupid.
    Oculus Mundi recently posted…Sometimes more is just too muchMy Profile

    • Stupid is as stupid does right? Which means exactly nothing, I’m pretty sure. Je ne regrette rien either. I’ll jump off that bridge with you my dear :) x

  5. If intelligence isn’t the key to survival, then I think the human race may just about be okay….not a day goes by where there isn’t a newspaper story of epic stupidity, usually by Governments (and Oppositions)
    Lydia C. Lee recently posted…Jump aroundMy Profile

    • I see the stupid everywhere, and when I do, I put my fingers in my ears, and go ‘LA LA LA!’ If you can’t beat em, join em. Right? No. Not right at all. But my energy levels… they flag.

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