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Fuck Politeness

This is a revolution, not a public relations movement

I’m in the middle of complicated stuff yesterday when I get a call from an unfamiliar number on my mobile:

“Hell-LO?? It’s TWO THIRTY and you’re NOT HERE”. (What? Who? I’m not where??)

It’s miniFP and he’s skipped the intro and is smack bang in the middle of a rant masquerading as a ‘conversation’.

“Well MiniFP, I’m at work and you’re coming home with [x]’s aunt. I couldn’t call you to tell you since you weren’t allowed to take mobiles…and BY THE WAY do NOT call me and start ranting at me without introducing yourself or asking me how I am ever again! It’s RUDE! Anyway” (totally snappy), “…whose phone are you on???”

“The year advisors” (Right so I’d better quit the yelling then)

“Fine. I’ll see you when you come to pick up the keys”.

So you know, I give him the keys, I say hi normally, tell him I’ll call him soon, he goes home and I call to check on him. He wants to get rid of me so he can play xbox. I know he’s tired, so I gently break the bad news that he has homework to attend to tonight and that I’ll call him later to get him to come do it in my office. He’s fine…then. I call later and it’s all sigh…hurrumph…grr…MU-UU-UUUM!!!

I get him to do the I.T assesment while I run around the grocery store. I get him doing the maths homework when we get home, I get him a snack and start unpacking. My back has been hitting my with shooting spasms of nasty pain all day and I have to leave the house for a birthday dinner pretty soon.

“Uhhh…miniFP…WHY are your school runners so wet? WHY did you wear the good shoes? Why didn’t you wear the volleys?’

“They were TIGHT!”

“Ohhh-kayyy. Well…WHAT shoes do you think you’ll be wearing to school tomorrow?”

(Silence) “*I* don’t know”

(Breathe…breathe…breathe)

“So…did you shower? You kind of smell funky”

“Yeah, they made us shower after kayaking”

“MiniFP you did NOT shower! Do you know how I know?”

“How?”

“Well your TOWELS are clean, dry and folded and packed in exactly the same spot I packed them in on Monday!!

“Ahh…”

“GET in the shower!”

“CAN’T I DO IT LAAAATER???”

“Heyyyy…you don’t look well. Did they take your medication bag straight away”

“No, they said we had to do it ourselves”

(!!!) “And did you take it”

“Yeah!!!”

“Well…no, you didn’t, because it’s all still in its boxes, with the little paper info bits folded neatly over the top. And…uhh…where’s your toothbrush?”

“OH SHIT!”

“Get in the shower”

(Gets in the shower…stands under water doing nothing)

“MiniFP – you NEED to use the shampoo and bodywash. You STINK!”

“I AM Mum!!”

“NO! You’re NOT!! The stuff is EXACTLY WHERE IT WAS and when you shampoo you leave the bottles lying all over the shower floor! USE the fucking shampoo and bodywash!!”

So he showers, I set him up with dinner, with instructions that I’ll call and get him to do the ‘nighttime routine’ and then call again to say ‘bedtime’.

All is well and we start the drive to dinner. I get some nice drive time with the birthday person, a good dinner, nice gifts, cake…call home to remind him to brush teeth then call for the follow up/bedtime call:

“So did you brush your teeth? Remember I said like FIVE long minutes I don’t know when you last brushed them”

“Mum – WHERE is the toothpaste”

Oh shit. I packed it with his toothbrush and didn’t notice since I’d stayed with TBO the whole time miniFP was away. Joy.

So I get him to brush with just water, you know, no big deal since it’s the brushing that cleans them and I grab some toothpaste on the way home. But with no dry shoes, with a child who’d not been given their asthma, allergy or anxiety medication for three days etc it was decided miniFP would stay home.

I was dog tired, my back was sore and I’d been away from home for three days myself. I decided to stay up late watching the end of a season of Weeds because if I’m not getting miniFP to school I can sleep in a little and I just need some downtime. So I get into bed around 12:30.

The phone rings at 7:15 a.m. I can’t tell who it is cos the line’s all fuzzy. The phone is in MiniFPs room from when I called to say it was bedtime last night. I pull it out of the wall and figure if it’s important they’ll call me on the mobile.

I set miniFP’s mobile up, give him his meds, tell him to go to sleep and I’ll call him on the mobile.

I call him at midday and get him to do some stuff and ask him to call me about lunch. No call. I can’t call the landline and when I call the mobile I get the error message. The battery’s fallen out of the phone and lunch is clearly not a priority, though he WILL complain about no lunch when I get home.

I get another effing message that my rent is ‘late’. It is fucking well NOT. They of course won’t check the fucking records properly and send it to me to do. Good.

I need to buy shoes but I don’t have time to run home and collect miniFP so I have to buy the size he got fitted for without him trying them on. I walk in just after a family with three kids, each getting fitted, each kid taking turns to trash the store. I’m trying not to be grouchy since it’s not their fault my feet hurt, my back is sore, my kid’s at home with no phone and I have to shop and cook etc.

I finally get them and do the lap around Coles. It starts to rain on my pretty suede shoes on the way home. There’s a letter waiting. It’s from CSA to say that my ex has applied to have his contributions lowered. They’re already at $27 a month. And he doesn’t pay. Lower than that? Wouldn’t that be me paying him? Fuck this fucking day! Fuck my ex! Fuck my sore back and the need to tidy and the stupid landline and the broken back-of-the-mobile, and the continual schooling bills and the need to go back to study and my shitty low income and the school  camp for not giving him the medication (what if it had been epilepsy medication? Or insulin?), fuck the missing toothbrush and the wet shoes and the freezer door for yanking off half my big toenail the other day.

I put the groceries down and take five minutes to myself. I look at the crumbs from breakfast, the milk carton warm on the table, the crumbs on the floor.

And miniFP comes out and says ‘Um…what’s for lunch?”

Despite what it sounds like, I DO like my life! I’m just tired, shitty and “over it”. Camps should end on a fucking FRIDAY so that I can spend the weekend remedicating, shoe drying/shopping, replacing toothbrushes and giving my kid a rest without keeping him out of school.

I’m going to make a big arsed batch of stroganoff with spinach and pasta and eat it with a glass of juice and watch Buffy with MiniFP. Who might be a forgetful/unhygenic-if-left-to-own-devices/sometimes-kinda-pain-in-the-butt kid, but is also pretty awesome. We’ll eat, we’ll laugh, we’ll sit, we’ll sleep and it’ll be better in the morning.

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