Tuesday, March 13, 2012

Lighter shade of pale

This was the colour of my face this morning when I waltzed half-awake into the bathroom, bra and undies in hand; only discover a naked kid in the bathroom.  He twisted like a pretzel in an effort to hide, leaving me with an image of Marge walking in on Mr Burns in the shower.
For me, this end to the weekend was in a word, apt.

The Squeeze and I had decided to take a four day weekend; he teaming a visit to his GP with a ‘sicky’ and me taking an ADO.   By Thursday I realised that our weekend wasn’t going to be quite the blast of relaxation I’d planned when the Squeeze informed me that he was no longer going to ‘waste’ a sick day and was going in to work.
This immediately got my back up; hell, we both knew that had the Harridan called to instruct him to have the kid, he’d have taken the day off quick enough.  I however, don't quite fit into that totem pole of importance.
Okay.  I can deal with that ‘on the fly’.  I don’t have to like it but I can deal with it.  And although I had a rather leisurely day on Friday, I woke Saturday with a raging stress headache.  Why?  Well the reality is that somehow, somewhere along the line, all the rules changed and it irks me that I have no input in to decisions.
We have a simple routine.  The word by its very meaning would tend to imply “organisation”, although it is a little more haphazard than that.  Still, as a general rule, the Squeeze heads off to the Velvet side of town while I sleep in and read, then get up and do a housework day.
By lunchtime, he and the kid are home and we either cook a brunch or go out for it.  The afternoon whizzes by in a blaze of television and technology where upon we cook, eat and get another bout of television and technology.  The morning is unhurried.  We cook breakfast, read the papers and clean up.  At this point, depending on what is on, we either all go off some place, or I encourage the Squeeze to go bond with the kid over a movie or something, prior to taking him back to the vice like grip of mummies arms and Velvetland.  I get to use this time to clean up, sit down and relax before he is back in the door.
But no, the Squeeze informs me that from here on in, he will be staying an extra night and catching the bus to school on the Monday and my annoyance level peaks again because unless I am mistaken, I kind of figure that extending the nights we have the kid should be something discussed between us; not something decided by the Squeeze, Harridan and Kid and handed to me fait accompli!
Sunday afternoon is my sanctuary after what is a rather stressful time.  It’s not that he is a bad kid or sets the house on fire or anything.  It’s that he has been raised completely differently to mine and there appears to be minimal boundaries – and I struggle with this.  Where I come from, families help out.  I work full time and do 90% of all the work around the house, sorry, but I expect you to pick up after yourself; either that or pay me a hell of alot more since it appears I'm to be the “help” as well.
Saturday over dinner, we had a discussion re why you need a job - so as to be able to provide for yourself and buy the things you want.   This was in regards to a non stop whine for a $50 soccer top that went throughout the day.  I think he missed the undertone of the message as it was answered with “you only have to think about what you want and it will come to you…”
WTF?  Trust me, that isn’t true.  If it were, I’d be getting up in the morning 10 kilo lighter, 10 years younger and Bradley Cooper would be making my coffee!  Having said that, I guess it was true for the Harridan who decided she could think about the Squeeze's tent – and then almost like magic, it was hers.
I like a good debate and I can be quite vocal in my argument (loud and obnoxious), so keeping myself restrained was in a word… Difficult.   Then Sunday, as we were about to leave for the caravan club to watch gospel for breakfast, the kid decides it’s time for breakfast – so we stand around while he spoons cereal into his face – and all the while, I feel every muscle in my back and shoulders tightening…
For stress relief, I decide to take the afternoon off and catch a movie with the girl.  We go off and have lunch and come home to help the Squeeze prepare a roast with all the trimmings, including chocolate steam pudding with custard and cream.  (Approximately 7000 kj I imagine….)
Given the waiting at breakfast, I start a discussion on the importance of keeping time; because in the end, I’m not hiring anyone that figures they are too busy and important to meet me at the correct time.  Sorry, but your time is not worth more than mine…  If you are more than ten minutes late for a meeting, I won’t be there.
To answer this, I get utter gibberish, informing me that being on time is only about “my” reality; in “his” reality, he can do as he likes and doesn’t have to submit to my time frames.   And with that one comment, I saw the rest of the next few years stretch out before me;  standing around tapping my foot as he refuses to hurry for “my" reality.
At the conclusion of the roast, the Squeeze and kid retire to technology in the bedroom where upon I get to clean up and wash all the roast dishes, including drying and putting away – because I can’t fit dessert dishes on the rack!
The Squeeze slinks back out a while later (possibly due to how loud the saucepans were crashing together like cymbals) and takes the tea towel from my hand – to which I say what is obviously the equivalent to “velvet wearing child abuse”…  ‘No.  You can wash.  The kid can dry.  I did all the rest.’
The outrage!  The Squeeze wouldn’t hear of it, his face and reaction were akin to me suggesting we drag him out to the back yard and flog him for an hour or two.  As my eye rolling becomes almost comical and the pot slamming routine escalates, I get the argument of "and why should he, it’s not like your children do the dishes when they are here?"  I'll admit, I had to go off and think about that because I'm not unaware that I can sometimes be the pot, calling the kettle...   But no, he obviously missed the part where the girl hasn’t been here for a meal since last year; boy 1 stayed 2 days on his way to moving to Queensland with his gal – and I know that she did the dishes…  And boy 3 came one weekend so far this year.  At the conclusion of me cooking breakfast – he and his girl got up and did all the dishes and clean up.  And I'll go so far as to say each of those times was unprovoked (what happens when you actually expect kids to help out...)
When I questioned the kid being here an extra day – and the off the cuff comment of “and if you have a music thing on or just want to come stay through the week… no probs…”   I got “it won’t affect you!  He will catch the bus to school!”
No.  It won’t affect me.  This morning I got woken up 15 minutes earlier than usual.  Much to my horror, walked in on a naked kid.  Suffered a cold shower because the Squeeze and kid are busy and important and must go first.  His music thing at school started at 7.30 so there wasn't any bus travel.  And after the seventh time of hearing the Squeeze say “come on come on come on!” this morning, I just turned off.

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Thanks. Better check it out but it should be up today!