What is it about a boy's inability to take a hint? Bedroom door closed. So big clue sunshine - go away! Oh no, this non verbal communication aid is far too complex for my sons' brains so the constant stream of visits becomes more than just an irritant but a damn right nuisance. Now of course, if they were coming to sit and discuss: their day, their hopes or fears, their undying love for their mother, then clearly my rant would be unjust and my restriction to my inner sanctum unfair. But no, not for my brood the outpouring of feelings or godforbid slight emotional engagement. Nope, my boys are either running for their life from an older sibling so the small space under my bed provides a good hiding place and excellent safe zone from where to kick offending attacker, or they are just plain fed-up that I have had the audacity to unchain myself from the kitchen and escape to sleep. So, as they barge in to find me, their mother, in her OWN bedroom, I am non too pleased to see them. However, instead of humbly exiting in Uriah Heap style, they stand and usually greeted me with: "Oh my god, you're naked mum. So gross!" (Thank you son, I'm glad I live up to your expectation of my hideousness). My much loved choice reply is "Is this Piccadilly Circus? I don't think so numpty. Now, sod off if you value your life and my sanity!"
And so it began today. Six this morning to be precise. Yes, six when most normal human beings are snoring, making love or slubbering peacefully. Not I. No, I am brutally torn from my slumber with my door bounding off my bedside table, immediately evaporating my dream of ponies (horse issue needs to be analysed at later date), as my youngest demands to know if I have his "Mooshi Monster" sticker book and to inform me he has done such a big "poo" that the loo was leaking water. Great. Just great. Plunger in hand, I purge the said "turd beast" from lavoratory and retire back to my room - MY ROOM. Now seven and being awake, I decide to text my partner - lucky him, he lives 85 miles away. Since he is still working and to cheer him up, I begin to take a semi-risque photo of myself partially clad.
"What are you doing, mum? That is so wrong!"exclaims one twin who is now standing in my room, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.
Looming behind him is the 15 year old: "Seriously disgusting! Mum have you been reading 50 Shades?" .
Haha love it...I too feel the absence of a private sanctuary that I can escape to and solve the worlds problems (or at least have 5 mins without "MUMMMMMMMMMMM!"). I walk into my own bedroom and trip over beyblades or lacerate my feet on discarded Star Wars lego, or wake in the morning with a permanent impression of Buster Bumblechops (moshi monster) on my face that I've slept on all night.How nice to have one of those beautiful bedrooms full of crisp white cotton bedding and sparkling, smudge free mirrored bedside tables that you see in magazines!
ReplyDeleteI must side with the boys on the dodgy picture taking though!GRIM! xx P xx
Ahhh, I am one of those lucky Mum's who has an intrusion of the inner sanctum of gentle child producing a cup of tea, and a nice chat about their day.... until the other sibling comes in, either way, that ends in me yelling and them both saying how unfair it all is!
ReplyDeleteThe worst I get now is from the dogs, youngest of which has found that chewing stuff makes me get up and chase her... we all have our crosses to bear...
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I am so glad that my son is an only child, who is not averse to entering my room bearing breakfast in bed for me. OK, it might be because I dropped an unsubtle hint, but it is the effort that counts.
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