“I cannot WAIT until you have kids!”

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This is what my mother used to say to me all the time when I was a wee lassie. That along with “This hurts me more than it hurts you…” and “I love you, but right now I don’t like you very much.” and it is now, a dozen years into this parenting palaver I totally get what she meant.

The thing that is irritating me the most is the laundry. Mr. Woog does it, hangs it out on the line, (albeit in his own special way WITHOUT PEGS.) brings it in and puts it on the washing couch where it sits, growing bigger everyday, until we all run out of undies and start getting dressed from the washing couch before I concede. I fold it all up unto little piles and ask all of the lads to go and pop them away. I do the pile of socks last, because I like to give myself hell.

One by one they come and collect them, and then one of them will place the whole pile back into his hamper, where Mr. ¬†Woog will mindlessly collect it, re-wash it, hang it out without pegs, and bring it back in. I will then begin to fold it before I realise “Hey! I just sorted this out yesterday!”

And implode.

I cannot get too angry because, my friend, I used to do the exact same thing myself. I was one of five kids, so Mum was chained to that machine. She would put piles of clothes at the bottom of the stairs which would be ignored for days, until she completely lost her shit and scared the living daylights out of us. So we would take it all upstairs where I, you guessed it, plonked the whole lot in the dirty washing pile in our bathroom.

So I know exactly how she feels. “I cannot WAIT until you have kids!”

Well Mum, here I am.

I was a fairly laid back child, which of course is code for lazy. One example of this was my unique way of getting rid of my uneaten sandwiches. I could not be assed to smuggle my vegemite sambo downstairs into the kitchen bin. Instead I made use of the fact that my bedroom had a little door which opened up into a little attic space. I would chuck my sandwich into this little space and think nothing of it.

After a week of this practice, my collection of sandwiches became a lure to some rats who were having a dandy old-time. I knew this because Mum and John’s bedroom was directly under this attic space, and they would lie there at night thinking “What the fuck is that noise?” before working it out. It was one of John’s favourite stories to tell at drunken dinner parties in the eighties, and I would die of embarrassment.

I see parts of my childhood in my kids right now. The joy, the sneaky, the moody and the wonder. And even this morning, as I pulled a mouldy, mushy banana out of the bottom of a school bag, I uttered those words…

“I cannot WAIT until you have kids!”

Have you used any good mother-isms lately?

Did you have any gross habits as a kid?