the mundane wins today

Marriage

Have you got something on tomorrow afternoon that would stop me from going to have a beer with Rohan at 5pm?

It’s not what you say it’s how you say it.

The DaWoogie Code

Saying one thing and meaning another is de rigueur around these parts. Let me share with you some examples that have occured here in the past 48 hours….
Apparently “Put your shoes on please…” means sit there like a slack jawed yokel in front of SpongeBob Squarepants.


Like when I turned up at the Divine Ms M’s place yesterday and she checked out my outfit and said “That is a new look for you!” which is code for did you take a toke on a crack pipe before you got dressed this morning?


Or when Mr Woog asks (usually at breakfast), “What are we cooking for dinner?” which is translated to “What are you cooking for dinner?”

Or your mum says “I think you are making a mistake…” when she really means “You are about to fuck up again.”


Or you take a chance on a new purchase. “That is an interesting scarf.” means “That scarf is fucking gross”. Thanks gen-y salesgirl at Forever New.


And my own current favourite “I am taking a career break to raise my kids.” is akin to “I cannot find a job that involves me going out to lunch every day and knocking off at 3pm.”


“Change the toilet roll please” is “crickets chirping”

“Hang up your towel” is “Chuck your soaking wet towel on my bed.”

“Can you sweep the floor” is “Sweep a bit here and there in a half-assed fashion and then sweep it into the corner and leave it.”

“Did you spend much money today.” is “I have been on the net and looked at the account and you said you were not going to Chatswoog today.”

“Just a small one for me” is “make mine a double”

But here, now and forever “Take the bloody bin out for god’s sake. Why would you put prawn heads in the kitchen bin you idiot?” will mean “Please take out the bin….idiot

Does your family have a similar problem?

Beautiful

This one has been rattling around for months. It is not about shits and giggles. Just shits.

This week I read a post from a 35 year old American Blogger who writes under the name Nerdy Apple Bottom. She begins her post:

My son is gay. Or he’s not. I don’t care. He is still my son. And he is 5. And I am his mother. And if you have a problem with anything mentioned above, I don’t want to know you.

Please click to read the rest of her post.

And it was the thing that tipped me over the edge this week. A week where this article came out. Princess Boy Sparks Gender Furore. A week where my son danced in his first ever ballet recital and was never happier. A week where he dressed up as a Fairy Princess for Halloween and was never happier. A week when he cried and I cried as I took off his purple glitter nail polish for kindergarten orientation, because he wanted to show his new teacher.

And this bring me back to the shits.

I am just shitty at myself. Shitty that I make him take off his bangles when we leave the house. Shitty that I remove his headband when we go shopping. Shitty that I get shitty with people stare at him as he goes dancing down the street. Shitty that I care what other people think.

I am not going to be shitty anymore.

Most people who know Jack, accept the fact that he likes wearing girls clothes, likes dancing and singing and loves all things pink. But even some members of our family, although accept it, do question it. And I have had enough of that too. So the next time someone asks, “Do you think he’s gay?” there is a fair chance I might go berserk. Jack thinks he is an amazing dancer and a very good at drawing. He has not worked out what his sexuality is, being FOUR AND ALL, but it is of major, MAJOR concern to a lot of people for some reason…..

So now of behalf of my son Jack, I release him from the confines I have placed on him in the past and now he is free to be. Just be. And what that is is beautiful.