Playing Dodgeball with the Universe.



You know when life plods along nicely, and everyone is finally over the lurg and things seems to be going along swimmingly? And you just cannot shake that feeling in the pit of your guts… “What is around the corner?”

Welcome to being a parent! Every person you see has one…

Owning kids is like owning cats in so many ways, but mainly the unpredictability thing is the most parallel. You just cannot pick it hey. What sets them off, what makes them upset, what is important to them, or what makes them deliriously happy. How they act like they do. The whole thing is an amazing riddle. I think one of the best things that you can do is to swim along with the rip, don’t try to stroke against it, as you will always lose.

Every night, my oldest son asks me to lie in bed with him and tell him a story about the olden days. Which according to him was in the mid-seventies. So I think back to my mis-spent youth, and leaving out the naughty bits, would regale him with yarns of when I punched out the school bully, Ben Brown, or the time that my Mum got so sick of me leaving my BMX out on the driveway, she hid it, and shook her shoulders, telling me someone much have stolen it.

He LOVES these stories. “Tell me one more….” He asks me every night.

And you want to know something? I was exactly the same with my Mum. She would mesmerise me with adventures that her and her 5 siblings had, living in rural NSW and I still remember every single one of them to this day.

We spent a very busy weekend doing jobs that we had been putting off for far too long. Moving furniture, driving around, trips to Bunnings, the beach and the tip. Many high jinks occurred and small snappy conversations happened in the front of the car until I activated the SHIELD OF SILENCE.

But back to the universe and shit. All goes along swimmingly for a bit, and then you are thrown a curve ball. This is when I start to play mental Dodge Ball with fate. I am all like “SCREW YOU” *duck*. Then something else will come along….


But it is only a matter of time until fate lines me up with a big motherfucking basket ball and scores a direct hit, right on the head. Here in WoogsWorld, these are known as Falcons, for some reason.

The direct hit came about yesterday when Harry showed me his tummy, covered on bastard chicken pox. And then proceeded to empty his guts at my feet.

“FUCK YOU!” *looks up into the sky and shakes fist*

But the funny thing is, that he will probably tell the story on how he hurled on his mum one day, back in the olden days.

Which is today.

And just in case you are completely confused, no. I am not drunk.

Just very, very tired….