Skip to main content

Bad mommy

Still can't find that damned cat. Kids are not speaking to me and have announced an all-out homework strike until pathetic fluffy skinny thing is located.

Have tried to lie through my teeth that kitten is having a happy time doing cute kitten things with its mummy and siblings. No dice. 

Explained that someone else has probably found it (someone who doesn't already have three psychotic felines and a hotline to the local vet) and is lavishing it with care and devotion, not to mention providing kitten treats and catnip on tap. Firstborn just rolled her eyes at me while the Small(er) One did a surprisingly good impression of a sneer.

Have tried bribery. The Small(er) One nearly broke under the temptation of unlimited Walnut Whips and Bounty Bars but Firstborn intervened. That child is destined to be the next Arthur Scargill, no doubt about it.

Peace is currently AWOL at our house with no immediate hope of return. How on earth do you negotiate with a 7 year old and her junior accomplice without a decent bargaining chip? 

Comments

Anonymous said…
Have you told them about FLEAS!!! Cats, even cute little kitten cats, have them in abundance and they bite humans, even cute little girly ones. Tell your kids that your present cats need flea collars and that any new cats would infect them all further. Tell them about HOPPING fleas in their beds. Let them sneer then. By the way - who is cat tray monitor this week. Think I can guess, Bad Mommy!
YLM said…
Hmm, that could work. Yup, always the cat tray monitor. Needs to be some changes around here!
David said…
Stray cats are really unhealthy to have in the house. Don't give in to blackmail by your kids.
Anonymous said…
hi.. just dropping by here... have a nice day! http://kantahanan.blogspot.com/
Anonymous said…
stray cats cause lots of bad smell and are not good to keep them in house.

Nintendo Wii Accessories
dentist in preston

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…

Champix

Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …