Wouldn’t Be Dead For Quids, April 19

I took a crash course Masters Degree in how not to behave as the mother of three teenagers, particularly in front of their friends. 

I thought that best otherwise the counselling session fees for three would have been astronomical. Like the time I knocked on my son’s bedroom door, walked in while wearing a full apron and offered a plate of freshly baked biscuits to his friends. By the look on Curran’s face he was going to die right there and then in front of everyone through sheer embarrassment. 

That’s around the time I realised that everyday actions now took on a new significance and and must be changed or removed to accommodate these mysterious hormones that had moved in uninvited and taken over my teenagers’ bodies and personalities. 

These moments of impending deaths happened quite regularly. Never a dull moment, especially in the kitchen around dinner time as the performer needed an audience for their Oscar winning performances. Some of the issues were pimples, (death) bad hair days, (certain death) the anguish of having the only mother in the world who didn’t understand them (slow death) the mum who isn’t cool yet is seen out in public with them (instant death) and the mum who greets their friends with open arms and a kiss (spontaneous combustion). 

One day Dave and I were hanging upstairs watching tv after he’d played his usual four hours of golf.

I’d planned this day was to go well. I’d just stay away from my kids and they wouldn’t even know I was here. Jade had a room full of friends downstairs in her room and I’d already decided no biscuits would be baked in the house today. I felt empowered with my new knowledge and felt nothing could possibly go wrong.

Just then Dave said while pointing, Babe put your hands here and work your magic. As I got started he said loudly and slowly,  Oh yeah, that’s the spot baby, can you feel how hard that is? Keep rubbing, yeah. That’s it, you’re so good! 

My phone suddenly rang, it was Jade. She screamed, OMG MUM!! I have friends down here and we can hear everything you and Dave are saying, it’s disgusting, omg you guys are so embarrassing, And anyway… what are you doing to him? 

I said, I’m massaging his feet. 

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