What not to tell your parents

Parents and hangovers don’t mix. Especially if you already have a terrible habit of opening your mouth before engaging your brain.

I’m afraid I have traumatised my parents and I’m not entirely sure they will recover from the shock.

My parents visited me on Sunday and took me out to lunch. I’m sure you’re all thinking that sounds lovely and a nice way to spend a Sunday. And it would have been, if I hadn’t have been about to be awarded the prize for the worlds biggest hangover.

Saturday night had been spent at Best Friend’s house, celebrating another friend’s engagement. True to form, we consumed a lot of alcohol and I finally got home at stupid o’clock in the morning.

When my parents arrived, I attempted to make conversation, but was more than happy to just nod and smile whilst I was brought up to date on the village’s latest news and the developments with various people’s ailments (I don’t know these people, but apparently it is essential that I know all about their lives!).

By this stage, we were at the restaurant and I was trying to prepare my stomach for the fact that it was about to encounter solid food and convince it that it would be fine with this. My parents were asking me about what I had been up to, commenting that I seemed to be very busy. I explained that I was, but that it was ok and I had some more projects in the pipeline. As all good parents should do, they expressed an interest and asked what I was planning.

This is when it happened. I still don’t know why I said it. I can only think that my brain had gone back to sleep and had left my body to try and cope with the situation alone.

I informed my parents that I was going into business with Best Friend’s Bloke as a porn baron.

Well, more porn administrator really.

The world seemed to stop for a few moments and then reality came rushing in. All I could hear was the woosh as the entire restaurant whipped their heads round to stare at us.

Dad went an odd shade of purple, coughed slightly and then started eating as quickly as he could. I think he thought that if he carried on eating, time would reverse itself and this would never have happened.

Mum sat there with a fixed, slightly manic, smile on her face. As she reached for her drink and downed it in one, my brain made a very brief appearance, realised what was happening and fled.

The more I tried to explain, the bigger hole I dug myself. Best Friend’s Bloke works as a vision mixer on the local TV station’s porn channel. A lot of the women have asked him to develop their websites and I’ve said I’ll help him.

Of course, the more I attempted to reassure my parents, the worse I made it. Until it sounded like Best Friend’s Bloke ran a porn empire and I was his newest recruit, about to give up the day job and become Crystal Chandelier!

I gradually trailed off and we sat in silence for about a year. The silence was so great, that I could hear the man on the other side of the restaurant picking bits of food out of his teeth.

The only thing I could think to say was “So, Mum, how’s Fred and his hernia”.

Apparently Fred’s fine.

The eternal argument

My parents are locked in a long running battle.

It’s been going on for years and I’m not sure if it will ever be resolved as neither are willing to compromise.

Dad wants a cardigan and Mum won’t let him have one.

My Dad is in his sixties and has been creeping comfortably into ‘old man’ clothing for several years. He has a love of corded trousers, lambs wool jumpers and loafers, though, slightly at odds with the rest of his style, he’s recently bought a very cool pair of Red or Dead glasses!

He has wanted a cardigan for years and has even tried to get Mum to knit him one. I’m not sure why, but he has a longing for a cream cable knit cardie. When he talks about it, he comes over all misty eyed and there is a definite hint of longing to his tone.

Mum point blank refuses to let him have one. When Dad asked her to knit one, she laughed hysterically for several minutes and then hid her knitting needles for several years! On the rare occasions they enter Marks and Spencer’s together, she always looks like she’s about to rugby tackle Dad if he so much as looks towards the men’s knitwear section!

I get the odd call from one or the other of them, specifically about the cardigan issue. Both ask me to talk to the other one and get them to change their mind. Over the years I have been through many options, trying to find a happy medium, but neither are interested.

I’m not sure why Mum’s so against him having one. I know it shouts out ‘old man’, but Dad really wants one. I read in one of the glossy magazines that knitwear’s really ‘in’ for blokes this season, including cardigans, so maybe I could send a copy to Mum and see what she thinks!

Are you sure you meant it like that!

My aunt breeds and shows dogs. She has whippets and absolutely adores them.

I went to visit her the other day and she was telling me about her recent night out with the girls. She was telling me about one of her friends who is retired and seems perfectly happy doing nothing all day.

My aunt couldn’t understand this at all. She informed me that she didn’t see how people could be happy with that, as her other friend works full time and then they “go dogging it”.

I collapsed in hysterics and it took me a good five minutes to be in a fit state to explain why I was laughing.

As much as my aunt is very broad minded and I get a lot of my less responsible traits from her, I couldn’t imagine her and her friend going off to car parks for group sex and voyeurism!

This is the same woman who had part of her email address as ‘janwhips’ until I pointed out that it could be seen in a very different light from a combination of ‘Jan’ and ‘Whippets’!

Though saying that, maybe she is ready to reveal her secret life as a dominatrix dogger!

Educational Activities

Well, the trip to the Eco Park with Mini Adult and the others was certainly educational, but not necessarily in the way I thought it was going to be. Looking back, I think the two main lessons yesterday were How To Effectively Embarrass The Kids and How Not To Get Out Of A Pedallo.

The Eco Park was fun, somewhat educational for the kids but, as is often the case, more so for the supposed grown up’s. It was in the section all about land and farming that my first lesson took place.

There was a display of animated vegetables singing a very catchy song about how cool they were. The problem was that Best Friend and I could not resist dancing, much to Mini Adult’s and The Cool Kid’s shame. Of course, the more disapproving and embarrassed they looked, the more this encouraged us. It is lucky that neither Best Friend or I have any problem with making idiots of ourselves in public: the disapproval radiating from the kids and the realization that we had in fact attracted a much wider audience of other visitors may have stopped less hardy souls, but not us. As Mini Adult and The Cool Kid scuttled away from our foot stamping and hip shaking, we heard mutterings of “You just can’t take them anywhere” and “Let’s pretend they’re not with us”. Oh, and for those of you that know of my burlesque ambitions you will be pleased that the, much needed, improvement in my sense of rhythm has been achieved through farmyard music!

After lunch, the kids agreed to acknowledge our existence again (it’s amazing the power having the ice cream money can have!) and decided that we would all go on a pedallo. It was a lot of fun, though I was worried about the fact that I had already had about 2 years worth of exercise in a couple of weeks and that pedalling one of these things around a lake may just finish me off! Best Friend and Mini Adult had beaten me and The Cool Kid in a race and it was time to get back on dry land. This is when I had my second lesson of the day.

As The Cool Kid was on the dock side of the pedallo, she jumped out first and went to wait with the others. This left me in the situation of having to get myself over two seats and the steering column, all in a rocking bit of plastic! It did not go well. After swaying about for a few minutes and wheeling my arms around in an attempt to keep my balance, I eventually gave up and crawled across and up on to the dock on my hands and knees – not my most elegant exit at all, though everyone else seemed to find it highly amusing! Let this be a lesson for all of you, if you are not the most athletic of people and find yourself on a pedallo, then when you land make sure you are on the dock side and save yourself the indignity.

Lessons in parenthood

I have the pleasure of Mini Adult’s company again today and tomorrow. She is asleep now, preparing for our big day out tomorrow!

I picked her up after work and we went to the cinema. After some debate we ended up seeing The Simpsons (she wanted to see Bratz – I refused as the dolls scare me, have you seen the size of their eyes!?) – turned out to be a good choice, though Mini Adult was not impressed with seeing a naked Bart! I was put off my pick and mix by the teenage couple in front of us trying to remove each others tonsils with their tongues (I have no problem with this, but that’s what the back row is for!), however a few subtle kicks to the backs of their seats soon resolved matters! I have to say that having the residue of a raging hangover didn’t endear me to their slurps at all.

Tomorrow, we are going to something called the Eco Park with Best Friend and The Cool Kid. I’m not entirely sure what it’s all about, but I have been told I will learn about dinosaurs and ‘the world’ (which seems like a very broad subject to me). Mini Adult and The Cool Kid are very excited, Best Friend has assured me she has all the parental type stuff under control and all I have to do is turn up with money and obey instructions!

Best Friend and I have done a few trips out with the kids. As much as I am perfectly capable of making sure Mini Adult is safe, fed and watered, I am not a natural parent. Best Friend is. She’s the one that has the plasters, spare drinks and tissues to hand. My role on these trips is to generally act the idiot, make them laugh and tire them out! Best Friend normally informs me before hand if anything further will be required of me, so I have time to prepare myself. I have had no such instructions for tomorrow, so I am assuming that I’m safe. However, I am going to have to pay attention to what Best Friend does; I have promised Mini Adult that I will take her to London for the day in a few weeks. Maybe I should take notes…

Who's meant to be the grown up?

A while ago I went to the cinema with Mini Adult, only to find we had apparently had our own Freaky Friday moment.

We had decided to go off and have a girlie day. Part of the trip was to go and see Charlottes Web. Before it started, we dutifully chose our sweets (pick n mix – always exciting!) which turned out to be quite a complicated process with lots of debate about the merits of each sweet.

I had started to eat mine whilst we were waiting for the film to start (what can I say, I had jazzies in there!) when all of a sudden I was aware of Mini Adult looking at me in disbelief. “If you eat them all now, you won’t have any left for the film” she informed me.

I couldn’t believe it, I was meant to be the adult and the one saying things like that. I really didn’t know how to respond and before I knew it, I had apologised and was sitting there feeling a five year old, just been told off my mum! I’m sure that’s the wrong way round!

It wasn’t the only incident of role reversal that day. I had been a bit worried about Mini Adult seeing Charlottes Web and had prepared myself for a crying person and having the whole life and death conversation. That also didn’t work out – I was the one sat there crying my eyes out. Mini Adult wasn’t fazed in the slightest; as she said to me afterwards, whilst patting my hand, “It’s only a story, she didn’t really die”…

Blondie, Elvis and The Clash - what a mix!

Ok, hats off to all you full time parents. I have no idea how you do what I did for less than 48 hours all the time! Mini Adult has gone home and I am now left sitting in a flat that resembles a building site and so tired that it’s hard to form words! I have had a lot of fun (sometimes aided by massive quantities of sugar in one form or another!), had my imagination stretched to the limit and learnt a thing or two.

Today we baked some more (brownies this time, with a fudge topping – more sugar, Mini Adult was seriously buzzing when she left, her Mum loves me!), went to spend her pocket money (weirdly, she bought a pig keyring that ‘poos’ sweets, like I said, her Mum loves me…) and then a visit to Mini Adult’s Gran.

Even without excess sugar, Mini Adult is a ball of energy and always moving, including in her sleep, which made it difficult last night. I’m also a restless sleeper, so I think we kicked each other about the same amount of times in bed! I woke up to find her sitting in bed looking at me, waiting to ask me all about Elvis. She was very concerned to find out how and when he had died and to discover if I had ever met him (the clearest sign I’ve had that it’s too late to start with the anti-wrinkle cream). I tried to answer the best I could, but without the aid of either caffeine or nicotine, she didn’t seem very impressed!

I have also discovered that Mini Adult has better taste than I previously knew. I asked her to go and put a CD on for whilst we were baking. Off she went and then all of a sudden I hear…Blondie! Into the kitchen comes Mini Adult, dancing and singing all the words as all I can do is look on with amazement. I knew she was one sorted kid, but she’s 8!! Upon questioning, it turns out that Blondie is cool, but not as cool as The Clash. What can I say?

So now she’s gone all there is for me to do is revel in the peace and tidy up tomorrow. It must be love though; I’ve got her for a whole weekend in two weeks!

I could be a Domestic Goddess!

What a day! Mini Adult is finally in bed and peace has descended. It’s been a great day but, god, I’m knackered. We started off by going into the shopping centre where they have all these activities for kids in the summer holidays. Mini Adult went on this contraption that is a trampoline with bungee ropes – she loved it, but I spent the whole time cringing, with nightmare visions of the ropes snapping and her flying across the city!!

Lunch was fun, there’s nothing like sitting in a crowded place, blowing bubbles into a glass of coke and making fangs from chips! (Mini Adult normally has a very healthy diet, so tends to go a bit mad when she’s with me). We then spent a very wholesome afternoon baking biscuits and brownies (yes, they were out of a packet, but hey, I had to add stuff and stir things, that’s cooking in my book!), followed by a DVD and general mucking about. I feel all domesticated (that will be the baking!) and kind of fuzzy inside (that’s either my own sugar rush, or from when Mini Adult told me I was the best aunt – I still haven’t figured out what she wanted!). And we’ve got to do it all again tomorrow…

In other news, my other niece, Little Person (Mini Adult’s sister), appears to have developed an obsession with other people’s feet and shoes – I can see a fetish in the making! Landlady came and as of Thursday I should have a fully functioning washing machine. During her visit she said that she was impressed with the way I had kept the flat and could see I led an orderly life – I had to stop myself from laughing and tried desperately not to look at the places where I had stashed things unsuitable for the eyes of either Landladies or Mini Adults! Operation Domestication can be declared a success.

Operation Domestication

Today has been taken up with ‘Operation Domestication’, otherwise known as ‘Shit, The Landlady Is Coming’. To be fair, she’s a pretty decent. I don’t phone her every five minutes with stupid things and she generally leaves me alone; it suits us both. However, she’s coming round with a plumber on Tuesday, so I’ve had to swing into action to make sure the flat is up to Landlady standards. I have spent the day doing all those jobs that you mean to do, but never quite round to, often because it’s all really quite boring. Now, after a few hours of blood (when I scraped my arm on a nail), sweat and tears (again, with the nail), I have a shiny flat with sparkling woodwork, squeaky floors and glistening tiles. I however, am now a complete mess! I hope it’s enough for her to think it’s always like that. I can be a bit slapdash when it comes to cleaning, though it’s never dirty, just messy.

In other news, I have this week off work. I have arranged for my niece, Mini Adult, to come and stay with me for a couple of days. Mini Adult is one of the few kids who I actually enjoy spending time with, she cracks me up and is already showing signs of having inherited her aunts’ perspective on life. It is rare I take parental responsibility for more than a few hours, so two days and a night are going to be interesting!