Sure, a normal person might not have phoned her Internet Service Provider to sort out her flailing internet before the school run.
And during the ensuing 45 minute conversation with the Nice Young Man from said ISP, a normal person might not have attempted to get dressed for the aforementioned school run.
And the small son of a normal person would probably not have cried “Boobies! Boobies! Boobies!!” upon sighting his mother’s naked breasts. And most certainly would not have then started wailing “I want to touch the boobies!” when the mother rapidly tried to move away from him, all whilst still on the phone to the Nice Young Man from the ISP.
And a normal person definitely wouldn’t have then given in and let her small son poke her breasts and make a delighted “Dee-dee-dee-dee!” sound while she was trying to type in DNS settings on the instructions of that Nice Young Man from the ISP.
Other things normal people would not do:
- let a four-year old ride her scooter on the 1km walk to school when they’re already running late, determining her readiness for such an endeavour on a 10 second scootering “audition” around the backyard. In the end, the daughter’s scootering turned a 10 minute journey into a 25 minute one and earned her mother a) a late pass and b) a reputation for being a screaming-crazy-bitch.
- not check how much money she had in her wallet before she ordered food at the local cafe. Apparently chocolate money is not considered legal tender in this country. Go figure.
- ignore her small son’s plaintive cries as they walked home from the cafe in the rain – YES, THE RAIN – only to finally turn around and see that his trousers had fallen completely down. And that there were tutting onlookers in a nearby parked car.
- incentivise her two youngest children on that agonising final stretch home by promising a showing of “Power Rangers Ninja Storm”.
- get home all wet, tired and cranky to discover her eldest son’s lunchbox on the kitchen table.
- side step the contractually-obliged showing of “Power Rangers Ninja Storm” by promising McDonalds for lunch if everyone got into the car as quickly as possible to take the lunchbox back to the school.
- change both children’s wet clothes in the back of the Tarago directly outside the school so that they were both semi-naked and jumping up and down shouting “McDonalds! McDonalds” JUST as a group of parents walked out the school gates.
- have to listen to the doctor explain that she’s developing premature osteoarthritis while her eldest son was doing “The Chicken Dance” behind the doctor’s back.
- lose her car park ticket while groveling around the floor of Kmart trying to find the matching size 2 Ben 10 “light up heels” sneaker and end up having to pay $13.50 for 45 minutes parking even though she smiled her brightest and prettiest smile to the car park attendant.
- drive home sobbing because of the stupid car park ticket, because she’s getting osteoarthritis and she’s only 38, because her daughter’s the slowest “scooterer” the world has ever known, because her handbag is full of chocolate money, because of everything. Everything.
No, a normal person wouldn’t have to do any of those things. And yes, I did do all those things (and more) yesterday. Because I’m not a normal person, I’m a mother.
And mothers know there is no such thing as normal.
Not Drowning, Mothering. 
Through the sobs was a part of you secretly happy that you had such great blog material?
Touché!
Although I could possibly have done without the osteoarthritis… But then again, ongoing discussions with my husband about it seems to be generating even more blog material…
Oh darling NDM…. my eyes well for you. That is TOO MUCH for one mother to bear in one day.
I forgot to mention that before my 45 minute conversation with the ISP, I had a 15 minute one where, when the Helpful Lady asked me to switch my modem OFF and then ON, I accidentally switched my phone power supply off instead.
oh no! i can’t think of much good to say except 1) simpatico! (for f*cked days), and 2) will the diagnosis mean you will have to have regular massages???? or something?????
It’s in my hand. I’m envisaging a Madge-style “you’re soaking in it!” Palmolive hand massage…
All I can do at this stage is take something called Glucosamine – me and a woman aged about 90 had a small tussle over the final bumper bottle in Coles.
Still, at least you can eat the chocolate money.
Every cloud has a gold-foiled lining, eh Nellie?
I also have been diagnosed with early osteoarthritis which is such a bummer. I have yet to come up with anything “chuckle-worthy” about it to put in my blog but I look forward to reading the hysterical way you I’m sure will discuss it!
Thanks, Becca! Not sure how chuckle-worthy my thoughts on the subject are right now but give me a couple of days!
And I thought I had some bad days, but I have nothing in my 10 years of motherhood to compete with that !!!
Did the doctor recommend Calcium with Vitamin D for your OA?
Holiday. By stealth or by crook. No kids holiday: one day. Go on, you know you can.
After years of gymnastic abuse to my lower back and knee joints, I started taking Glucosamine when I began noticing the thirty-something aches and pains. (I call them ‘Dennis Lillee pills’, as he was the guy promoting them on TV after recovering from his joint stress injuries). I’m not the only person I know to swear by them and have experienced huge improvement…knees that were feeling severely rusted have since taken several skiing trips and are back up to the challenges I continue to dish out.
You’ll manage, and it won’t be too bad. Hang in there.
Thanks, crgwllms. The doctor said I should take Glucosamine but then (somewhat unhelpfully) said they probably wouldn’t work. Which is a bit like saying you can appeal the verdict but you’re going to the electric chair anyway, don’tcha think?
You’re right, you aren’t normal. You’re abby-normally super-normal.
Brilliant writing.
Aw, shucks. Just hope my hands don’t become so gnarly that I can’t write anymore. Then I’d end up like one of the crazies on Hyde Park corner, just rantin’ and ravin’ all the live long day.
You are by far the most NORMAL mother I read. And I agree with MM but add SUPER brilliant writing.
I’m seriously worried about the crowd you’re hanging out online with if I’m the most normal mother you read. But thanks very much for the compliment: I’m very flattered!!
Oh dear – the parking ticket as the straw that broke the camel’s back – been there & sobbed all the way home too!
I didn’t want my child to get sick and need the doctor – the doctor we’ve trusted for years just has to be downtown – I had to borrow my sick child’s last pocket money coins to feed the parking meter (who carries money these days with EFTPOS so easy?) – did I ask for the wait in the doctor and then the pharmacy to be so long? – weren’t there already several carparks available to other people when the smirking parking ticket officer strolled home for the day passed my vehicle displaying a ticket 7 minutes over time and assailed me with a $15 fine?
All quite legal and yet exasperatingly, pathetically beyond my capacity to cope.
Just realised, I owe a small person a refund!
You never know what that straw will be, do you?
But seriously, what happy place do you live in where the parking tickets are just $15?
My husband thinks that someone who had left their car in the carpark for days and days found my ticket and avoided having to sell a kidney on ebay to get out of that place.
LOVE the verb ‘incentivise’.
Great blog, and all worth it to provide us with such entertainment. Except for the arthritis. I hear ya.
Thanks, Kerri. I’ve certainly found that “incentivising” is much better than “bribing” or “coercing” or even “buying the affections of…”.
My goodness – what a day!! I think a compulsary weekend in Welfington is in order to recover…
Hope you have a MUCH better day today x
Thanks porridgebrain. I’m just getting dressed to go off to a Quiz Night with my local besties (also my local “beasties”).
QUIIIIIZZZZZZZZZZ NIIIIIGGGGHHHHHHT!
That’s a bugger of a day, NDM. If it helps, the trainer I had when I was last in Oz also suggested a course of glucosamine for me (crocked knee), so here’s another one who’s hip-and-shouldering the OAPs out of the way. Big hug. x
Thanks, Dashing Solicitor. I look forward to playing a few hands of Bridge at the Seniors Club with you on your next visit.
What a day. When to spin it into comic gold!
Or even comic gold-foiled chocolate money!
Take heart, dear NDM.
One of the hidden bonuses of being a parent is that the experiences therein make for being a great “leveller’ of life.
You are a regular mummy doin’ regular mummy things and you are doin’ just fine.
Well, my happy home is in Wellington, NZ, where parking fines start smallish, but rise quickly depending on how long you’ve ignored the fact that the expiry time has been and gone. I’ve not gone past 1/2 an hour past this time for fear of what may happen next. Actually if you are not dragging a sick child along with you, the public transport is much easier and less stressful (which I think is the point of making parking such a drama!).
Thanks for clarifying that, Blossom. Every time we see ads for New Zealand on the telly, my husband and I “ooh” and “aah” at the magnificent scenery. But we never manage to get off our arses to visit your fair shores.
IF, however, they thought to add the $15 parking fine (in the first half hour past the limit) info in their advertising campaign, I’d be there in a flash. Believe me, it’s a selling point.
I just wanted to say that your blog has been a real sanity-saver for me. Like you, I have three kids, of similar ages (and also boy-girl-boy), and I love reading what you write about the struggles you have with your kids. Your wittiness helps me approach my little munchkins with much better humour. Your writing helps in ways that you probably couldn’t imagine.
Thank you for writing so well, and for sharing so much of your life with us.
Thanks so much, Perthmum. I’m going to do something which I never do:
🙂
(You know you’ve really touched me when I use an emoticon.)
So I read this when it was first published on a double bed in a cheap motel telling the four-year-old to lay down and pretend to sleep. And I want to tell you what would have taken hours to type on the little bitty phone. *hugs* I’m sorry you had a rough day. I hope it’s the last.
Started off laughing, laughing, but it ended on a not-so-funny note. A very realistic day-in-the-life. Not so great about the diagnosis, I hope you can minimise the effect it will have on your life. I have only just started reading your blogs tonight and can’t help myself but to comment because your writing is so great, and I know this because it is able to elicit emotions from myself and other readers and uses humour and wit to open a little window into your soul, making us feel connected to you even though (many of us) don’t know you personally. Thanks for sharing 🙂