Well, there are a couple of conditions, actually. Here is my little tribute to Mums everywhere, especially to my Aussie and American pals as you celebrate Mother’s Day.
Teenagers are clearly God’s punishment for having sex in the first place. Aged 13, I was taken hostage by my hormones and shape-shifted from A star student into Attila the Teen. My modus operandi became one of First-Degree sarcasm and Olympic level eye-rolling. I started dating surfie guys called Spider, Chook and Fang – Mum must have thought I’d found them in a petting zoo. Worse were the punk musicians – the sort of blokes who spent more on nostril piercing than armpit hygiene.
I talked back constantly, sneaked out, sulked, wagged school and developed a three grunt vocabulary of “na, dunno and errgh”.
So, did my poor, beleaguered mother start desperately looking for a loophole in my birth certificate? Did she put me up for adoption? Did she embrace the guppy approach to parenting – i.e., eating your young?… No, she just kept right on loving me.
The trouble is, kids are like camping tents – you have no idea how much assembly is required until it’s too late. (What the hell is a ‘rain fly ridge pole grommet’ and is that lightening storm and howling dingo getting closer?!)
But it’s not really until you have your own children that you fully understand the sacrifices your mum made for you.
The agonies of childbirth are a doddle compared to what comes next – the 24 hour catering (as a breast feeder you are now Meals On Heels) ; the sleep deprivation; the sex deprivation – because kids are a contraceptive aren’t they? Every time you go to make love, the baby wakes up or the toddler toddles in. Although I do have an excellent sex tip for new parents ; vaseline, on the doorknobs – it sounds painful but they can’t get in!
While I adore my children with a primal passion, I actually got morning sickness after they were born – a little something to do with the fatigue which comes from playing ‘Hide and Seek” with the Dummy’ at 4 a.m. ; learning that ‘toilet humour’ is not a Amy Schumer sketch on diaphragm insertion, but trying to train an incontinent toddler to poo in the potty; the cleaning up of projectile vomits at dawn; the running of trays up to bedrooms thirty times a day for nothing more serious than a stubbed toe; the unknotting of pee-stained shoe laces with your teeth; the sticking out of hands in restaurants so kids can spit out some offending vegetable. Taking the blame for the out-of-date school excursion permission slips scrunched at the bottom of backpacks, the endless battles with babies to eat “solids”, which they interpret as nails, needles and loose screws – the latter soon solely located between your addled ears…
One particularly exhausting day, I rang my mother to find out how she’d raised four daughters while holding down a full time job as a head mistress, without giving herself a D.I.Y. lobotomy?
“Love…” she replied simply. “Oh and blatant bribery, otherwise known as ‘rewards.’ Hey, we Mums may drive our teenagers crazy – but we also drive them everywhere…Or not, if homework’s not done!” she laughingly added.
So, this mother’s day, make sure you spoil your Mum rotten and thank her unconditionally for that unconditional love.
…Although to my own children I would say, there are a few conditions. Book your own driving lessons – no mother should have to go through the menopause and teach her kid to drive in the same year. And, if you ever lock me up in a Maximum Security Nursing Home, there’s not a ghost of a chance that I won’t come back to haunt you. Okay?… Now bring me my flowers, bath salts and breakky in bed, you ungrateful rascals!
What do women really want in bed? Breakfast. Oh, and a good book. If you’re looking for a funny, frivolous yet feisty new read, do slip between my covers. Satisfaction guaranteed.
Here’s a selection of scribblings in which I peel down to my emotional underwear – a psychological striptease that occasionally reveals all.
I think women are each other’s human Wonderbras – uplifting, supportive and making each other look bigger and better.
If he wants breakfast, tell him to sleep in the kitchen.
Men think monogamy is something you make dining tables out of.
Many marriages break up for religious reasons – he thinks he’s a god and she doesn’t.
Love prepares you for marriage the way needlepoint prepares you for round-the-world solo yachting.
Boys will be boys, and so will a load of middle-aged boys who should know better.
Ladies who lynch.
No wife ever shot a husband while he was vacuuming.
I think therefore I’m divorced.
All husbands think they’re Gods. If only their wives weren’t atheists.
Happy wife = happy life.
I couldn’t ask for a better husband… as much as I’d bloody well like to.
Statistically, 100% of divorces begin with marriage.
Marriage is nature’s way of promoting masturbation.
Marriage is a fun-packed, frivolous activity – only occasionally resulting in death.
It’ll be an amicable split. You’ll both get 50 % of the acrimony.
A new invention is required. The monogamous husband. Patent Pending.
How Do I Hate Thee? Let me Count the Ways.
My wedding vows didn’t say To Love, Hoover and Obey.
I’m Having my period so can therefore legally kill you.
You are going to enjoy this marriage, even if I have to divorce you to do so.
A happy marriage is like an orgasm – many of them are faked.
All this emphasis on women faking orgasms, but what about men faking foreplay?
Why do men like intelligent women? Because opposites attract.
Why don’t women tell jokes? Because we marry them.
What does a woman really want in bed? Breakfast.
For women, life is full of lies – I mean doctors maintain that wrinkles don’t hurt.
Legal aid cuts prove that the Tories believe a person is innocent until proven destitute.
Sexist men are so stupid it makes you want to take the ‘men’ out of Mensa.
If a man ever tells you that women fall at his feet – it’s only because he gets them drunk first.
A woman must always fight back. Never just lie back and think of Canberra.
The best cure for menopause is the toy boy diet. A case of having Your Beefcake and Eating It Too.
I don’t fake orgasms. I’m faking being six foot one and seven stone.
Trophy wives tarnish quickly and then get left on the shelf.
Lawyers work 24/7. The partners of lawyers suffer from a bad case of subpoena envy.
Most shrinks should book an appointment with themselves.
The question on the minds of most women is – why doesn’t chocolate go straight to your boobs?
Don’t fall for a man’s puppy dog look… Just get him wormed.
It’s been so long since a man has touched me, not even medical science will want my body.
My top tip for keeping your youth? Lock him in the pool house.
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