ARE YOU MY HUSBAND?
A single mother left her babies in the nest with a teenager in charge. The kids screamed so the mother left in a hurry.
“Damn,” said the mother. “I’d like to find a husband. I’ll be back.”
So away she went, a long way from the deep dark suburbs.
She did not know what her husband looked like. He might have walked right by her. She did not see him.
Where is my husband?
She looked at the golf course. She saw a sporty young man in a golf buggy. Are you my husband?
The young man just stared at her like she was deranged.
The sporty man was not her husband so she walked on.
Then she came to a pub. She saw a pot bellied drunk at the bar.
“Are you my husband?” She said to the man.
“Me wife kicked me out, I could be your hubby,” he said.
“No, you are a yobbo, you are not my husband.
The pot-bellied drunk was not her husband. The young sporty man was not her husband. Where is my husband?
She came to a strip club. She saw a man who looked sharper than a rat with a gold tooth sitting in a booth.
“Are you my husband?’ she said to the man.
“I could be your husband tonight baby, “ said the man.
“No, you are not my husband, you are a player,” she said.
She looked on the Internet. She found a man whose photo was 20 years old.
“How could you be my husband?” He replied. “I am gorgeous and you are an old cougar.”
“Where is my husband? Where could he be? I will have a husband, I will, I know I will find him”
The single mummy ran, she saw a road worker showing his bum crack. No! He was not her husband. She ran on and on.
She called to a good-looking older man, but he did not stop, he went right on.
The mummy walked on and on. “Where am I?” said the mummy, “I want to go home.”
So the single mummy went home and when she got to her front gate, the mummy saw a cute man visiting her neighbours.
“There he is, there is my husband!” she said.
“Do you know who I am?” said the cute man.
‘Yes, you are not a yobbo, you are not a player, you are not too young for me, you are not too old for me, you are not too good looking, you are cute and you are my husband.”
And they lived happily ever after in separate houses keeping their five children from three different marriages at arm’s length.
As I am on the hunt for a brand new Mike Brady style husband, I wonder how I’ll adjust to living with Mr Stepfather and his children when they find me. I’ve been thinking about different parenting styles:
Apparently parenting in the 50s was: Wait ’til your father gets home. Then parenting in the 60s was: Go to bed or I’ll whack you on the bum. A popular 70s child rearing plan was: Go to a party, drink a lot, chuck the kids a bag of chips and a can of Fanta every few hours, end up at 3am kicking the dog into the neighbour’s pool. Wake up on the front lawn underneath the frangipani tree. Throw six sleepy kids you found on the front verandah in the back of the station wagon and give the car keys to the adult who appears most sober.
The popular parenting style in the 80s was, “Julie’s dad is not too pissed to drive, I’ll get him to pick up you and Vicky from the Blue Light Disco.” No wonder we learnt to get hammered at every opportunity.
According to social researchers parents began to spend a lot more time with their kids after 1995, so parenting in the 90s became, “Sit down and watch the Simpsons with me while I have a drink.” In the 21st century parenting has become: I share custody with her and her, so I’d better find a new childless girlfriend to help me when my kids come back from their mothers’ houses.
I could not imagine my childhood without the Brady Bunch. The orange and green kitchen, the sunken living room, the hair, the clothes, Alice and the dorkiness of the Brady boys, there was so much to love about that TV show. As the youngest child in my family, I was Cindy; the difficult middle child Jan was too annoying, but I wanted to be Marcia. I loved her hair, her geeky boyfriends and her mini skirts. Thank you Maureen McCormick (10 years older than me) for breathing life into Marcia and giving me a teen girly idol when I was 7. Maureen was also the voice of the Chatty Cathy doll in 1970, but I am far too young to remember that.