Just a small town girl. I will totally de-construct your illusions.

If I have to hear this song one more time I am going to explode. Literally. And by literally I mean ‘bits of my body will combust and come flying out’.  I cannot anymore with this shit.

My kids sing this stupid asshole song when they want to get me really fired up.

So ok, lets have at it line by line.

“just a small town girl, living in a lonely world”

uh, ok, I believe that this is a good thing. If you are from a small town and you are lonely, then you either have very lazy uncles or you have been mercifully un-bullied. Deal.

“I took a midnight train going anywhere

Really? Anywhere? How does Rowanda sound? Shit, kid, you can not even handle a small town…

“Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit! He took the midnight train going anywhere

OMFG. People from Detroit do not take trains. We have cars. Detroit is where CARS COME FROM. dumbass.

“a singer in a smokey room, smells of wine and cheep perfume. For a smile they can share the night, it goes on and on and on…”

That whole thing there? GROSS. I can not even…but wait…this is a love song so…

Next, we get strangers, shadows, street-lights and hiding. Great. Sounds like FUN! Somewhere in the night. Uh huh. I am so not feeling this song. But yet…

Working hard to get my fill,  (uh…yeah? must suck to be you. Or  your pimp. Ass.)
Everybody wants a thrill  (NO….no fun is allowed!)
Payin’ anything to roll the dice,  (I said NO FUN! Do not pass go. Candyland it isn’t)
Just one more time  (can you please stop now? I am tired. )
Some will win, some will lose (is that how life works? wow. news. )
Some were born to sing the blues (and some were born to have a needle and the damage done.)
Oh, the movie never ends  (i know. never, ends. )
It goes on and on and on and on and on and on and on and on…..

I hate this song. It must be the stupidest song ever written. But even living in the UK I can not escape it. not even “In the NIGHT

Do you have a song that you hate more than this? You can tell me, but I do not think that I can hate anything more than this. Try me.

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Why Can’t They Shut Up? The Stream-of-Conciousness Summer

I was lied to. I was told that children do not develop an ‘internal dialogue’ until six or seven. You should expect non-stop-sharing of every passing thought until they grow up a bit. I did that. I listened to every thought that they have ever had for almost nine years.

My ears are tired.

My oldest, Little Stormbringer, never stops talking to me. I am sure she does sometimes, like when she is sleeping, but it seems like she has been talking to me for past four weeks non-stop.

I have begged. I often bribe them. ‘Anyone who can stop talking to me for 5 minutes will get a treat at the shop!’ I have bought craft stuff and toys. I have rented movies. I have got new games. I have taken them to parks. Yet…They NEVER STOP TALKING TO ME!

MOM! Mum! Mummy! Knock knock! MUM! blah blah……

Seriously? I spend most of my time trying to get people to leave me alone. I have never needed non-stop attention. My oldest just wants to feed off of my very life-force every got’damn minute that she is awake.

As I said in this post:

“She needs to possess my soul, squeeze out it’s meaty juices and devour them with her never-satiated heart-hole. It’s excruciating.”

My mother used to spend an hour every night playing with me. And then she would read me a book at bedtime. The rest of the time I fucked-the-fuck-off and played with toys and shit.

The thing is, my kids almost never have anything interesting to say. None of it matters. It is all just made of crazy. The greeting that I got this morning, before coffee happened, was: ‘Do baby owls like muffins?’ OMFG. I only have like 7 brain cells left. You are taxing my wee head. It is now late afternoon. I have completely lost my shit. I gave Little Stormbringer to Manboy and said ‘she is yours for an hour.’ and to the blabbermouth; ‘this is your grown-up for the next hour. Do not come near me.’

This kid is nine years old on Monday. She should be able to… I dunno…do something for half an hour without talking to me??? No?

I have never loved anything as much as I love her, but the sound of her voice is making me come unglued. This precious hour is going to be great. I am willing to bet that Manboy will be a mess at the end of it though. BLAH BLAH BLAH question question question. LORD, that child is tie’some! Deliver me!

I know hope that I am not the only one. Do you have any strategies that work, or are you as brain-sad as me? Comment as loud as you want. I can take it.

Do you have gravy on your boobs? I am glad I live in the UK instead of the US

I know that I sometimes have a hard time adjusting to life in my new country, but it is a really super place to live. This week I have been hearing stories about how my fellow parents in the USA are getting ready for school by buying tones of specific supplies and trying to get new clothes for the fall. I do not have any of that to deal with. Here is my back-to-school shopping list:

1) pencils (optional)

2) school uniform

That is it.

Read it and weep Americans!

I must get to the gravy bit. This is only for women of a certain size. Size of boob or of body.

I need to know: Can You Eat And Not Get The Food On Your Boobs Or In Your Bra?

I mentioned in one of my earlier laundry posts that My shirts are considered clean if they do not have gravy on them. I mean this. I am unable to eat food and only hit my mouth with it. Almost every meal that I have, some of it will end up on my shirt, on one or the other boob, or IN MY ACTUAL BRA.

I found a baked bean in my bra last week. This was a refreshing treat from the crumbs. A family of ducks could feed from my bra-crumbs some days. WHY? What is wrong with me?

So hot.

Tell me that I am not alone!

In America, all I would get to do is argue. No matter what side I was on. I find this tiresome. Also, Boris Johnson is hot.

In America I would be dying of heat, but buying snow boots for the 3 feet of snow A DAY that was coming. Here? It is almost always Just Fine. 65 degrees damn-near-year-round Baby! Suck it Michigan!

In America I would be worried about my daughter who needs medicine. I do not care what you think. I get great care here in socialized-nazi-care-land.

Please tell me what you are thankful for in your country. And for the love-of-all-that-is holy…

Tell me if you  have gravy on your boobs!

Why Americans are not Popular. Why is ice a problem?

I lie. Americans are VERY popular. Just not for all of the reasons that we want. I have a unique view from overseas. I say ‘unique’ because America does not have any type of world view. Especially about…this…

Apparently we are not popular because we love ice. We love a cold beverage. NO. I will NOT stop banging on about this! Look, I can drink a warm beer next to anyone in the UK or Europe. I am fine. I can even deal with coke in a fast food joint with no ice. I am trying to adapt.  But when you mess with ICE water? I am going to mess with you right back.

In UK-Euro-Town you cannot have ice. If you ask for ice in a drink you are going to get three cubes. This is not a stereotype or an exaggeration. This is the got’damn TRUTH.

I was having a hard day last week. I was out all day with the kids. I did the dentist. My thirst was not fucking around. We went for lunch.  I told the waitress….” PLEASE… I know Americans always ask for ice in the water. Please. I want a glass of ICE with water on top. None of this three-cubes stuff. aha. ha. please?”

She was all ” yeah, we get that a lot!” really? In Devon? you get Americans asking for ICE? ok….”I will give you water with ice!” I am so thankful. I am thinking that she feels me. She gets me. She is going to give me a cold beverage.

NO. Do you want to know what I got? FOUR CUBES. Four Euro-cubes of ice. FOUR EURO-CUBES.  AND I WAS GRATEFUL.

Not better, just different. But with more ICE

I am going to steal a bit from this rant on the lack of ice over on this side of the pond.(it is a paraphrase. his bit was way funnier) Is it harder to make ice on this side of the Atlantic? I asked you for ICE, not a penguin! Jesus! I can buy a whole BAG of ICE from Tesco for one pound! A Buck Fifty!

Manboy says that it takes too much power to ‘freeze water’ to make it just OK for a restaurant to just give out ice. No. That cannot be right. I can deal with the wind farms, the endless recycling hassle, the millions of dollars that it costs me to run a bath for my kids, but ICE? You are wrong Mr Cameron. Wrong on this.

When I visit the USA next time, the first thing that I am going to do is just hold a glass under my mothers ICE MAKER that comes OUT of her FRIDGE and then sprinkle water on top.

I will never leave the UK, (love you guys) but ICE is NOT a problem.  It is a right. Do you feel me?

New ways I am failing at parenting and being an expat

I will never get all of my laundry done. Never, ever, never ever ever. I have not yet adapted to doing laundry in the UK. Allow me to contrast the ways that laundry is done in the US vs the UK.

Let’s assume that you have two loads of laundry to do. I’ll stipulate that a washer-full is different in the US (bigger obviously) but let’s just set that aside.

USA:

9 am: put laundry in washer

9:45: Put laundry in dryer, wash a second load

10:30: take laundry from dryer, start second load drying, fold and put away clean dry clothes

11:15: fold and put away second load

DONE

UK

9am: put laundry in Euro-washer-dryer thingy

3pm: take hot wet laundry from the dryer and hang on the line. Put second load in the Euro-washer

9 am the next day: Observe that your laundry on the line has been lightly sprinkled on. It does not yet have slugs or spiders so decide to let it dry off a bit.

Noon: It rains. Your wet laundry is still on the line. Your second load is still wet in the Euro-washer-dryer.

4 pm: pray for better weather

9 am the next day. you decide that the clothes outside are ‘dry enough’ and bring them in. Lay them on the radiators to finish drying. Hang out second load.

10 am: it starts to sprinkle. The cats have lounged all over your clean laundry. The kids have knocked it to the floor. Pick up hairy, linty laundry and just fold the fucking shit.

5 pm: it sprinkles a little more.

9 am the next day. Your second laundry is mostly dry. Only has a few slugs. Bring in, hang on the banisters.

9 am the next day: fold crumpled fucking laundry and put it away.

DONE.

So the score is USA-3.5 hours, UK-5 days. USA-clean, dry, wrinkle-free clothes. UK-slightly damp, fuzzy wrinkled clothes.

What would your laundry situation be of you could only do two Euro-loads of laundry a week?

It is actually worse than this. The piles are bigger and I have not drawn the slugs.

OMFG YOU GUYS, I will never, ever get it all done. How is everyone else dealing with this?? Why can’t I figure it out? Seriously, if anyone knows please tell me!  I have piles and piles of laundry. Some of it I might just throw out. Euro-washers do not remove stains anyway so screw it. Just keeping my kids in clean clothes is a miracle. All of my clothes that are not ‘drying’ on the line are dirty. All of them. I put on a clean shirt today for the first time in 4 days. ‘Clean’ has a new meaning to me. If one of my shirts does not have gravy on it, it is now ‘clean’. I cannot go on like this. (help me)

I have said before that my kids swear like fucking champions. I have no idea where they get this from. But Little Stormbringer surpassed herself today. The White Rose was doing a truly cringe-worthy puppet show. The kind that is great if you are two, but was extremely sub-par for her. It had a dance routine and involved me watching a pipe-cleaner tell knock-knock-jokes. I love this stuff but apparently it makes older sister’s ears bleed.

I watched as my oldest started to twitch. A bead of sweat appeared on her temple. Then she saw my face and started to giggle. I giggled. Even The White Rose started to giggle at her foolishness. Then Little Stormbringer said “OMG fuck-the-hell-off with that shit!”

Then we all collapsed with laughter. I told you that we aren’t right. I was all ‘wow. that was a mouthful of swearing even for me! Tone it down a bit child! Jesus Christ!’

I set such a good example. But then later in the day one of her projects wasn’t going as planned and she said ” Awww STICKS!”

Are you kidding me? Of course we laughed about that too. I told you that I was failing at parenting!

You want to hear something worse? My kids are so gross. So very gross. This they do NOT get from me. One comes down and says that the other is reading a book on the toilet. I can only assume that the door is open. Yuck. Manboy and I eyeballed each other. “we did NOT need to know that, thanks.”

Then the other comes down, wearing only underpants, stretches, smiles and says “ahhhh…that let a lot of junk out of the trunk!”

OMFG SO GROSS. Are you kidding me? This is a little girl. Strutting in my living room in pants and talking about her bowel movement. No one that she has ever met reads on the toilet or brags about the product. Our living room explodes with cries of ‘ NO! Gross! No way! Ewwwww. Jesus! Please stop! Yuck!’ And them hysterical laughter at the absurdity of the whole thing. I cannot be the only one whose kids are disgusting. Right? Right?

How is your laundry today? Have your kids ever done anything that gross? Tell me all about it!