Smothering Sunday

Today I’m thankful that I still have a mother, but if we’re going to have a day to celebrate mothers, please don’t ask me to:

Bake a cake for a fundraiser

Select a nanna scarf for me before I’m a grandmother

Volunteer for any initiative to improve the lives of already well-off people

Mend garments or

Clean up after babies

Also please don’t:

Buy me ugly socks

Make me a ceramic thingy that I’ll smash

Give me any more craft

Advise me to take vitamins, colonics, miracle cures or go for a run

Rescue another animal for me

Suggest helpful ways to brighten my floors

Today I don’t want to grow, inspire, achieve, strive or nurture, I’m cranky and I’m having a day off. Please quickly bring me a bottle of gin, tonic, lemons and an obedient bar man, then close the door on your way out. Your best present for Mumma is obedience and a big dose of shush.

Mother and Child Reunion Boney M


Forgive me for I have sinned or something

I’m not Catholic but I think I need to ‘fess up about my online habits. I have an addiction to Instagram, I get work from Facebook connections and I read crap about idiot politicians on Twitter. My addiction to lurking is not completely out of control, I know that Google + is pointless, and the only time I use LinkedIn is when my mother’s dementia flares up and I’m talking on the phone with her for the third or fourth time in one day and listening to stories she has already told me 100 times. So I connect with people on LinkedIn  in order to emotionally disconnect from the feeling that the mother I knew has gone forever. My siblings and I are mourning her loss before she has left us and social media helps me feel somehow less powerless.

I’m the youngest of four children and my mum dedicated her life to us so I’m slowly losing my biggest fan. I know that the Internet can’t fill the void but some nights watching tragic bands from the 80s on YouTube helps.

 

Bill Wyman – Je Suis un Rock Star – ’81

 


Shifty at 50

I am officially an old bag. Today I turn 50 and I’m trying hard not to whinge. For it is a privilege to be 50. My friends who died of breast cancer in their 40s would love to be where I am. And so would the kids who were robbed of their mothers.

The beautiful sick kids I’ve met at the hospitals I work in who left way too soon didn’t get to be adults at all. And the families and friends of my darlings Veljko, Mark and Anthony who died in their 20s would love to know them in their 50s. Those guys would have aged like fine wine if they’d had the chance.

I don’t feel that different, but I look in the mirror and I see age creeping up on me. I was born on a Monday, “Monday’s child is fair of face,” but my face looks like it needs more sleep. And my knees creak from all the stilt walking, gymnastics and dancing drunk in stupid high heels over the past 35 years. I can still have fun with my kids, my best friends, the families I meet through my work and I share great love with a beautiful heart. But there are things I’m worried that I haven’t done yet. Maybe I won’t get to live in New York or drive across Africa. Maybe I won’t be brave enough to sail across the world. Maybe crazy life goals are in the past. Maybe I won’t sing with Kermit or be the next teen superstar.

I share my birthday with fabulous people like Twiggy, Jeremy Irons, Frances Farmer, Mama Cass, Daniel Lanois, Nile Rodgers, Jimmy Fallon and Alison Sweeney from Days of Our Lives, darling. Today is also International Talk Like a Pirate day. 

http://talklikeapirate.com/wordpress/

At 50 I’ve realised that the cocker spaniels I’ve had in my life may be the only dogs I own in this lifetime as I can’t afford to buy a house.

But 50 brings great rewards. I can sing, dance, laugh and love, I have fabulous kids, and I’ve given up people who drain me of precious energy. I have no time for those who don’t contribute to improving our world. So hit the high seas for some hijinks you swashbuckling scoundrels. I’ll be wearing my new earrings that cost a bucaneer.  50 is swell.

Linda Ronstadt – Blue Bayou on The Muppet Show


Poke ’em & go

Dear 11-year-old child,

I know you’re really busy saving the world by watching people playing Minecraft on Youtube all day, but I’d like to ask a favour. Could you please catch and keep the following Pokemon people/creature/alien/thingies/whateverthehelltheyare?

Cleandyourbedroom a saurus

Oddishwasher won’t empty itself

Clefairy liquid over the sink and wash the dishes

Remove the Vileplume from your sister’s walk on floor-drobe

Meowth and change the kitty litter while you’re at it

Machop up some veggies for dinner

Rapidash to the bathroom to hang up your sisters’ wet towels

Slowpoke the dunny brush around the toilet

Weedle your way out of whinging about housework no more

Thank you great light of my life

Mother dearest

Whistle While You Work – Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs


More fairytales for single mothers

Once upon a time a lovely hairy mother lived with three not so little tweenage pigs.

One little piggie had a floor-drobe
One little piggie had a walk-on wardrobe
And the third little piggie had a large aversion to bathing
So the big bad wolf mother swept and swept and took all their clothing to the local charity shop
And the three little pigs lived in their own home
And the big bad mother wolf lived happily ever after


Winner, winner, dog food dinner

You won $1.25M AUD in the ICC WORLD TWENTY20 PROMO 2016 with Reference [INDIA-RSA-PRT-279-30-2016]. Reply to; mla.icct20@gmail.com or call 00447937349377 for details. T’s and C’s apply!

Can’t hardly believe it or not, I am a winner. My astrologer told me that 2016 was going to be tops for someone with a moon in Uranus and now I’ve won enough to put a deposit on a house only three hours from Sydney. Incredible.

Prince Thieves in the Temple


Dear potential new husband

I know I’m a catch, and I’d really like to go on an exciting lunch date with you to the hot hip new bar you’re proposing and I’m very keen to pay for your brilliant plan to boost my Instagram account with 10,000 new followers but,
My legs are hairy
The cat has to go to the vet
My pouting tween has left her school uniform on the bus
The Valium isn’t working
I need a long nap
And
Unless you organise a babysitter, come and pick me up and pay for everything our blooming romance is not going to happen

Please contact me at irresistiblematch.com so you can take a ticket and join the queue of eligible males pining for me

Thank you hot stuff
Love
Lou