The Sunday Post

My daughter, recently turned 12, now towers at least two and a half inches over her 80 year old grandmother and this two and a half inches has happened over the last three months or so.

Soon I shall change her online name from Pencils to Sapling.

Noise's I shall change to Silence, as that's really all I've heard from him in the last month since he decamped to his father's. I miss him. I don't miss his behaviour. (Quite possibly it is his absence from this house that has allowed Pencils some room to grow?) Anyway, I'm not at all ready to go into the wheres/hows/whyfors of the situation as I suspect I will become sad, angry, upset and flippant all at the same time. I've seen him a few times (when he wanted money and a hug), and have resolved to let things play out as they will. Of course, Asshat is at his useless best.


One of Asshat's strategies was to tell the children that I have bipolar disorder. (Of course, when I asked him when he got his pysch degree, he denied having said it and used that old chestnut of "Somebody else said it." Good heavens, the man is nearly 50 and still hasn't figured out that we all know when he's lying... usually because his lips are moving...)

Anyway, I figure that his label of "bipolar" must indicate a disorder where you hold down a steady job, pay your bills, lodge honest tax returns each year, keep a registered and adequately insured car on the road, make boundaries and rules for your children, tell the truth and wear a bra if you need one - because he most certainly does not have that particular disorder.

Noise was whingeing on about him last week when we met for coffee, to which I suggested that we leave things as they are for now. (Mr Grumpy, my mother and various others seem to think the idea of Asshat taking on some parental responsibility is a great recipe for future laughter for us all. I just wish it didn't have to come at Noise's expense.)

Just had to go and turn down the temperature on the oven - it doesn't seem to understand anything but "burn in hell". I detest and loathe electric ovens. I'm making garlic bread to deflect Pencil's attention away from the fact that tonight's vegetable curry is rather similar to last night's pumpkin soup. Not that she complains much. On Friday night, she snuggled up next to me and declared that she loves "coming home". (Probably because she gets to play Only Child here.) We both prefer a vegetarian-style diet and fish - things Noise would not tolerate. She and I went to the movies last night to see Valentine's Day (her choice, not mine. I was prepared to snooze most of the way through it.) On the way home we saw Noise hanging around a carpark with some of his friends. Note, I did not say "roaming the streets." Apparently there's a difference? We pulled in to where they were and he came over, gave me a hug and wanted to know what we'd been doing. "Where's your dad?" I asked him. "Dunno", he grunted. Nice. Last weekend, "Dad" apparently stayed out till 2 am, but it's okay because Noise had friends staying over and teenage boys are always really trustworthy when they're unsupervised.

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Asshat: "I just want him to grow up normally for a change."

Ozfemme: "You're about 15 years too late, moron."

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Whoopsy... I said I wasn't going to go there, didn't I?.....

Just came back after dinner. As I suspected, the vegetable curry was not such a hit with Pencils/Sapling. The freezer is now stocked with more meals to take to Grandma's.

Now we have to hop in the car and go collect Mr Grumpy (or Mr Sour Dour as he was rechristened last weekend during the birthday party.) He's been in Sydney for the weekend being rained upon apparently AND learning to do what he's effectively done for the past 25+ years, all because some jumped-up board members decided to change some accreditation rules for the industry he works in.

You know, to give him credit, he wasn't too grumpy about having to do it, once all was said and done. He has to go back in two weeks and I'm going with him because.. well... why not?

Enjoy your week, Possums and be glad you don't work where I do....