Skip to main content

Note to self

Never EVER take two children, both wired on Starbucks chocolate frappucinos (aka kiddy crack), to the Emaar Property office when you need to do some fairly important paperwork. They will:
  • Pull each other's ponytails
  • Give each other Chinese burns 
  • Try to twang your bra strap and pull your top up in full view of the entire waiting room - whilst cackling like hyenas
  • Shout loudly (it's a very quiet office)
  • Get a limb stuck in the revolving door while running away from you, then scream blue murder and say it's all your fault
  • Repeatedly kick the back of the desk of the woman serving you whilst asking endless questions in a silly high-pitched voice
  • Reinforce every single stereotype about British expat brats ever held by the 25 other lemon-faced people in the waiting area, all of whom are giving you increasingly dirty looks 
You will:
  • Seethe silently whilst mentally reassessing your spanking policy
  • Attempt to telepathically communicate with 25 cross people that it's Not Your Fault and that They Don't Usually Behave Like This, Honestly
  • Be tempted to bury your head in your hands and have a long, noisy and hopefully therapeutic weep 
  • Seriously consider selling both children on e-Bay... for a very, very low reserve price
  • Feel like an utter failure
Happy days.

Comments

rk said…
I only thought it was mothers of boys that had this problem... (except the pony tail bit) sounds like a normal day out with my two boys!
Kate B. said…
sadly not RK, I think my girls are quite high impact! I blame Starbucks though, obviously my parenting skills couldn't possibly be to blame!
Anonymous said…
This is hilarious! Love your writing skill! I enjoy reading every post tht you have put up so far...will be back for more! ;-)

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!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...