There is no purpose to this post other than to rant my little tushy off. Yes, I am proclaiming a LITTLE tushy. That’s the exquisite charm of the Internet.
It’s been quite some time since I posted. This could be down to a number of reasons:
1) There has been illness in the family which has paled everything else into frivolous insignificance and has ultimately meant I couldn’t be tushi-ed.
2) Pickle’s behaviour has worsened again and I am suffering a cerebral battle of wits with myself and a delightfully destructive and downright contrary little 5-year old. I appear to be pointlessly searching for answers to his impudent deportment that are basically non-feckin-existent.
3) I have had blogger’s block.
Actually, it’s a combination of all three.
After several days of school-holiday hullabaloo, I have turned into the new, modern-day Medusa. Full head of tousled, hissing and spitting snakes, writhing agitatedly in aimless abandon. Wary. Edgy. Awaiting the next unexpected bout of insolence or aggression. But without the powers of being able to see over my shoulder, behind my ears, under my armpits, OR of being able to turn small children (and Other Half) into stone.
Now, if I could, THAT would be seriously SICK (as my now 10-year old would say)!!! It would be like having an integrated pause button (couldn’t be a permanent mutation) at the tip of my cornea. I could halt any given moment that fecked me off. It would give me the time to think before dishing out a string of erratic and inconsistent punishments, which simply lead to the kids proffering that look of scornful disdain at the crazy-noob-woman.
I know it’s the same-old ‘routine’ issue that’s causing Pickle’s metamorphosis into utter horror-bag. I know it will settle again. At school, there are many more distractions, quick-changing activities and professionals trained in exercising the virtues of patience which make Confucius look like Victor Meldrew. I crave this kind of patience. Consistent patience, I mean. Maybe if somebody paid me to be patient, I could actually BE patient. *rubs chin *dials for careers advice.
I’m inclined here to blame surging hormones for my surging stints of (im)patience but since I am now a contemporary Gorgon and can turn men/small boys into marble with my post-feminist glare, I shall refrain from any girly diatribe.
Confucius say: “It doesn’t matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.”
Confucius do not say how the feck to start in the first place.