Delusions

Deluded Parenting Syndrome also known as DPS, can strike males and females. DPS occurs when a parent believes they’ve done more parenting than they actually have.

DPS symptoms include:

Remote parenting via text message

Chatting up your teenage daughter’s friends

Borrowing your children’s clothes to wear

Bringing home every boyfriend or girlfriend for your kids to meet

Turning up for school events your child is involved in and staying for 5 minutes

Telling your child you’ll teach them how to play guitar, fly a kite or build a cubby but never actually getting around to it

Telling your child all about your sexual partners thinking you’re teaching them sex education. Eww.

DPS – keeping therapists in business since Jung was a boy

Pulp – A Little Soul


2016 achievements so far

At the end of 2015, I had a lot of goals for 2016:
More corporate tax paid
Less foreign aid cuts
More cake eating
Less Michelle Bridges
More real people
Less Insta famous twats

As we approach a new season, I thought I’d update my 2016 resolutions. Losing weight and being more productive are so 2012. Why not try these achievable ideas instead?

I will:

Blink more
Raise my cholesterol
Stare into space, at least three times a day
Say ‘I’ll do this later ‘ more frequently
Spend more time on social media looking at photos of strangers doing things I want to do
Be more envious of others (see above)
Remove kale, coconut and slow pressed juices from my home
Wait for something to happen

 

 

 

I feel better already


Spam spam spam spam spam spam spam

I’ve started 2016 feeling full of hope and joy.

I’ve been poked numerous times (on Facebook) and had a gutful of spam in my inbox. I’m loving it. I love the nonsensical emails I receive much more than work emails. These spammers have a wonderful grasp of the nuances of the English language and obviously an eye for the ladies.

Far better than inspirational Pinterest posts, spammers inspire me to parent better, reach for the stars and drink more. I’m enjoying a weekend full of spam and helpful Facebook messages from strangers. Pass the chardy.

Too much of information regarding recent styles block the minds of the childs and distract them from their studies.

You do research and find supplier for this item and now you successful selling it online.

So yoou probably wonder what to say to a girl on MySpace, or whst to say to a giurl on Facebook.

I will immediately grab your arss as I can’t to find your e-mail subcription hyperlink newsletter service. Do you’ve any? Kindly let me recognize so that I may.

Guys not shy about using elements of sexual language in their handles, for example Stud – Muffin, Lover – Boy and the like

Hello, good evening, welcome


Smothering

As the childrens head back to school after the long summer holidays I have turned into tyrant mother. I’ve installed software that cuts off the internet, which is a shame because it is really cutting into my time-wasting watching inane crap on social media therapy. I am not the first parent to use the cruel to be kind parenting method (patent pending), but in the digital age us parents need help to conquer the gazing at pointless clips on youtube disease that has spread amongst our kids. My youngest loves watching people playing Minecraft. WTF? I guess that’s no different to my secret joy at reading celebrity gossip and looking at pictures of Brad and Angelina and pretending I have that kind of fantasy family life. My 13-year-old is so sleep deprived from reading all the late night messages from her friends I had to stage an intervention. She told me not to cut off the internet so she could complete her homework but I figure if she hasn’t done it by 10 at night it’s too late. I’m hoping my little technological helper will enable me to have a more rested and harmonious household. My gal may even read one of the novels she is supposed to study this year and I may get some work done.


The resolutions will be televised

And they will be Instagrammed, photoshopped, Facebooked, Tweeted, Pinned, Googled, Tumblr’d and flogged on every available social media site. I hope the New Years Eve revolution (where we overthrow the politicians who run the current economic system of inequality) will be televised, but we’ll probably just be watching the same predictable TV show hosts bumbling their way through awkward live broadcasts of drunk people and fireworks.

 

Here is my riveting Lou Pollard official single mother New Year’s resolutions list (patent pending). In 2016 I promise I will:

 

1. Give up making lists that will never be acted upon
2. Feed the cat
3. Pat the backyard lizard
4. Sleep
5. Breathe
6. Swim
7. Laugh a lot
8. Prise myself away from pointless youtube searches
9. Dance
10. Feed the children


Christmas recipes

Single Mother Christmas Gingerbread House

 

Ingredients list:

 

Pre made kit from cheapo supermarket

 

Icing sugar

 

Gin

 

Lemons to taste

 

Valium (quantity as required)

 

Loud music

 

Helpful hints

 

Tablespoon of family argument regarding decorations

 

Swear Jar

 

Extended Family

 

Mix all ingredients on Christmas Eve and hope for the best

Read the rest of this entry »


Robbin’ Banks

Once upon a time there were God botherers and L. Ron Hubbard believers. Now there are so many self-help gurus in our world that I don’t know who to believe any more. I recently read a paid post on Facebook that I feel compelled to share. The two comments below the post made it extra special:

Robin Banks (really)
Sponsored ·
Don’t miss out on your only chance to see world-renowned Mind Power expert Robin Banks for the very first time in Sydney. Register Now!

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Comments

Bec Davy Having faith in God and hope through his strength and grace and awesomeness allows u to achieve all your goals and live a life of abundance…. Service and happiness and peace
Like · Reply

Stacey Donnelly Dick head
Like · Reply · 23 October at 23:23


I’ve got a crush

CURRENT RELATIONSHIP STATUS:

Sleeping in the corner of a queen-sized bed with a fidgety cat, a feral child who sleeps mostly after midnight and mangy old teddies. When my kids ask me if I want to get another pet I think, ‘well they’re messy and difficult to keep and I haven’t really looked for one, but eventually I may want a man around the house.’ I’ve got five minutes remaining on the libido setting of my biological clock, so when I discovered the Oxford Dictionary has a word husbandable (it means fit for cultivation) I realised I should hunt for a man who is already house trained. Our life is such an attractive proposition for a man to join in: yelling pre-menopausal financially stressed mother, swearing teenager who throws things at her sisters, smart arse middle child and mental youngest. Why wouldn’t a good-looking man want to move in and help me raise my kids?

I have a big crush on someone who is possibly unsuitable for me, but I can’t wait to find the next man I’m going to break up with. I have to admit I am jealous of women with husbands. No one tells you when you become a single mother you’ll resent happily married couples calling each other cute pet names. They are revolting. Single mothers find out fast who our friends are; some women think you want to steal their husbands. These are usually the women with husbands who aren’t worth stealing.

During my seven years as a single mum I’ve had a few imaginary husbands. My next husband will audition in front of a judging panel of my harsh girlfriends, I haven’t got a clue. One honest friend said, “You’re a bad picker, and if you insist on wearing make up you wore in 1995 you are responsible for the tragic men you pick up.”

Old age dating can be fun. Hormones can make us make babies with any old trash, but I don’t want to breed with my next husband. He doesn’t have to worry about me getting pregnant. I’m not going to write off his car or stop him going to work. I want him to go to work.

I’ve made so many attempts at finding dream stepfather I can’t remember all the men I’ve been out with. After looking for so long, I ended up in a meaningful long-term relationship with Mr Potato Head. I try to choose quality over quantity, I’d like to get back on the horse but I’m not desperate, I have a new motto: I don’t chase them, I replace them.


Not happy man

As someone who tries to spread happiness and joy to people in distress, I’ve been invited to hear a few modern gurus speak at conferences. They are usually happy high achievers with eager followers and best-selling self-help books. They often make me feel inadequate. I read their books and end up feeling like I have to add another set of chores to my already chock full to do list. This week I’d like to pay my bills and have a holiday, so please come over and take my kids to school while I loll about in a spa. Cook my dinner, help with homework and soothe my neurotic insomniac brain but spare me the details of your journey of discovery. I’m sure it’s been incredibly peaceful spending the last two years meditating in a cave in the Himalayas but I don’t want to know. If you’ve done nothing but sit in silence for hours, I’m jealous. Write a book. I might fall asleep reading it.


Dishy Washy

I am in love with an inanimate object. She cost me $150 on eBay and she is cheap to run. I love my dishwasher. She is my comrade in the war against grotty kids. As a single mother with children who have lost the use of their legs and their ability to put socks in the washing machine, my dishwasher is my best friend and one true love.

My friend calls dishwashers the marriage saver, perhaps only if you marry someone who doesn’t have substance abuse issues. My DW is addicted to tablets, but she stopped me doing the dishes. I hate fancy plates that don’t fit in her warm wet insides. Anything delicate is banished from my kitchen. If I bribe my youngest hooligan she sometimes unloads my dishwashy friend.

I adore taking my kids to the park knowing that my dish pig is hard at work filling my flat with the pong of detergent. When we return home I open her up and my face is hit with a blast of her wonderful wafting steam.

She has great rhythm, I love the way she hums at night; I go to sleep in my living room to the soothing sound of the white machine slaving over my cutlery and pans. Bliss in a box.