Naughty Nanny
Without Prejudice
I woke late and felt out of sorts and unwilling to start this first day of yahoo time, " the kids going back to school " day. As I drank my second cup of coffee, ( always the best one of the day ) I thought how blessed and contented my life was and even relished the thought. I should have known it couldn't last.
I have been determined to be more organised, this year, as I have collected and restored hundreds of items for sale or storage. I have little or no storage at this juncture but I have been condensing, de cluttering, in the vain hope a giant warm shed with shelves and a wooden floor will magically appear in the back yard.
Wasn't today. But it will come.
I live behind my second oldest daughter, Yvette, who is a single Mother to 8 kids. Seven boys and one darling little girl, finally. I am sure raising that many boys has made Yvette an expert in all things male. She teaches me something new every day, ( I was the Mother of 4 girls and had no knowledge of anything male, apart from my 4 brothers ) and everything is surprising.
Cruz, youngest of Yvettes boys is 5 and starting school this year. Yvette wasn't sure about Cruz starting this year as he is still pretty babyish. He's smart and I feel he's ready but she was concerned that he can't wipe his own bum, or for some reason refuses to and he still loves his dummy. I do know enough now about males, that most boys are way slower than girls in picking up " social habits ".
I grabbed my bags of rubbish as the first task of the day in my newly organised year and heard a low roaring as I descended the front steps in my blissful blessed life. The roaring was coming from Cruz, His undies were around his ankles and he was flashing what seemed to be a huge brown eye at me. The garden tap was running.
From what I could make out between his wails was that he had shat himself and was very very upset. I told him not to move and he bent over to show me the mess and I dumped the bags of rubbish and investigated the damage. It was not going to be a quick wipe and all done. Oh no, this was a mess of major size. I grabbed wipes and tried to minimise the " area" . It was caked down his legs, and everywhere.
I decided a shower was the go and showered him down with a soapy sponge and a few life lessons about fun hygiene. He was smiling and laughing by the time we finished and he grabbed up his dummy and insisted on wearing his yellow t shirt back to Yvettes house. I live behind my daughter and grandkids house in a shoebox ( unit ) that I adore.
I returned to my organised life and found that Benson, one of the Maltese Shirzu pups the family owns, had peed on my garbage bags and I discovered this fact only after I picked them up. Yellow pee dripped on to my bare feet before I realised what was going on. I smiled to myself,
" Of course " I shouted to no one. ( When you live on your own talking to yourself is inevitable )
I stomped back inside, gingerly crossed the bathroom floor, and wiped my feet with an old towel. Vintage, I call them. I collect vintage linens and love old soft shabby chic towels with their bigger sizes and retro colours. Slightly faded pink and grey striped Dickies towels from the seventies, fringed oranges and cerulean blues, lemons, and bright citrus the colours dating them into an era.
This time when venturing outside I intelligently put on my thongs, ( ancient Haviaanas, of course ) and mentally prepared myself for the first task of the day. I know I said taking out the rubbish was first but that was only today, due to inclement weather, a necessary evil in Melbourne. A downpour the previous evening had rendered me housebound and as I am an anal retentive, rubbish can't be stored in the unit for more than a night, it has to go.
I grabbed a pile of bags from Yvettes house as she has at least a thousand taking up two cupboard spaces. Charities love me when I decide to clear those bags out. Don't ask me why she hoards them. She says she likes one for every soiled nappy that Shilo, ( the precious little 2 year old Princess who came along miraculously after seven boys,) produces.
With Shilo in mind and bags in hand I picked up all the dog poo and thought how much poo two wee dogs can make. This is not a pleasant task and can produce retching noises from me which always makes Yvette kill herself laughing. They are her dogs but she has never once had to pick up after them.
Life is so not fair sometimes.
I stomped back inside after disposing of almost a full supermarket shopping bag of doggy doo, made myself a much needed coffee and realised brown footprints had appeared on the rug. Mine. I turned the Haviaanas over with my big toe. Hmmmm covered in poo. I realised I had worn the thongs into the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen. And it wasn't dog poo.
It was human.
I went outside to check the garden and thought I would hang out washing ( vintage towels ) as I checked. This time I was barefooted once again. As I swung around away from the washing line I trod in something cold, slimy and it squished up between my toes. Cruz hadn't just soiled his undies he had left two big sausages of crap on the path. I realised then he had been trying to clean himself up with the hose. He's five, what can I say ?
I rinsed my feet with the high pressure hose and dried them on the wet grass as best I could. I heeled myself inside and jumped in the shower. I decided to not go out for the rest of the day as the powers that be were forcing me indoors. I mentally shrugged. I can fill twelve hours just cleaning and organising and never get sick of it.
It took two hours to clean up the unit from the aforementioned " human stain".
I'm dragging Yvette out into the backyard tomorrow and watch her do my tasks and I'll do hers. ( Watching TV, eating breakfast, looking at my Facebook.) I will love it. And be bored in two minutes. Yvette will develop " dishes diarrhoea " and hide till I do the backyard. Not much has changed since she was a 15 year old.
But I'm a " naughty nanny" and will think up some appropriate revenge. Half the fun of having kids is teaching them lessons.
I woke late and felt out of sorts and unwilling to start this first day of yahoo time, " the kids going back to school " day. As I drank my second cup of coffee, ( always the best one of the day ) I thought how blessed and contented my life was and even relished the thought. I should have known it couldn't last.
I have been determined to be more organised, this year, as I have collected and restored hundreds of items for sale or storage. I have little or no storage at this juncture but I have been condensing, de cluttering, in the vain hope a giant warm shed with shelves and a wooden floor will magically appear in the back yard.
Wasn't today. But it will come.
I live behind my second oldest daughter, Yvette, who is a single Mother to 8 kids. Seven boys and one darling little girl, finally. I am sure raising that many boys has made Yvette an expert in all things male. She teaches me something new every day, ( I was the Mother of 4 girls and had no knowledge of anything male, apart from my 4 brothers ) and everything is surprising.
Cruz, youngest of Yvettes boys is 5 and starting school this year. Yvette wasn't sure about Cruz starting this year as he is still pretty babyish. He's smart and I feel he's ready but she was concerned that he can't wipe his own bum, or for some reason refuses to and he still loves his dummy. I do know enough now about males, that most boys are way slower than girls in picking up " social habits ".
I grabbed my bags of rubbish as the first task of the day in my newly organised year and heard a low roaring as I descended the front steps in my blissful blessed life. The roaring was coming from Cruz, His undies were around his ankles and he was flashing what seemed to be a huge brown eye at me. The garden tap was running.
From what I could make out between his wails was that he had shat himself and was very very upset. I told him not to move and he bent over to show me the mess and I dumped the bags of rubbish and investigated the damage. It was not going to be a quick wipe and all done. Oh no, this was a mess of major size. I grabbed wipes and tried to minimise the " area" . It was caked down his legs, and everywhere.
I decided a shower was the go and showered him down with a soapy sponge and a few life lessons about fun hygiene. He was smiling and laughing by the time we finished and he grabbed up his dummy and insisted on wearing his yellow t shirt back to Yvettes house. I live behind my daughter and grandkids house in a shoebox ( unit ) that I adore.
I returned to my organised life and found that Benson, one of the Maltese Shirzu pups the family owns, had peed on my garbage bags and I discovered this fact only after I picked them up. Yellow pee dripped on to my bare feet before I realised what was going on. I smiled to myself,
" Of course " I shouted to no one. ( When you live on your own talking to yourself is inevitable )
I stomped back inside, gingerly crossed the bathroom floor, and wiped my feet with an old towel. Vintage, I call them. I collect vintage linens and love old soft shabby chic towels with their bigger sizes and retro colours. Slightly faded pink and grey striped Dickies towels from the seventies, fringed oranges and cerulean blues, lemons, and bright citrus the colours dating them into an era.
This time when venturing outside I intelligently put on my thongs, ( ancient Haviaanas, of course ) and mentally prepared myself for the first task of the day. I know I said taking out the rubbish was first but that was only today, due to inclement weather, a necessary evil in Melbourne. A downpour the previous evening had rendered me housebound and as I am an anal retentive, rubbish can't be stored in the unit for more than a night, it has to go.
I grabbed a pile of bags from Yvettes house as she has at least a thousand taking up two cupboard spaces. Charities love me when I decide to clear those bags out. Don't ask me why she hoards them. She says she likes one for every soiled nappy that Shilo, ( the precious little 2 year old Princess who came along miraculously after seven boys,) produces.
With Shilo in mind and bags in hand I picked up all the dog poo and thought how much poo two wee dogs can make. This is not a pleasant task and can produce retching noises from me which always makes Yvette kill herself laughing. They are her dogs but she has never once had to pick up after them.
Life is so not fair sometimes.
I stomped back inside after disposing of almost a full supermarket shopping bag of doggy doo, made myself a much needed coffee and realised brown footprints had appeared on the rug. Mine. I turned the Haviaanas over with my big toe. Hmmmm covered in poo. I realised I had worn the thongs into the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen. And it wasn't dog poo.
It was human.
I went outside to check the garden and thought I would hang out washing ( vintage towels ) as I checked. This time I was barefooted once again. As I swung around away from the washing line I trod in something cold, slimy and it squished up between my toes. Cruz hadn't just soiled his undies he had left two big sausages of crap on the path. I realised then he had been trying to clean himself up with the hose. He's five, what can I say ?
I rinsed my feet with the high pressure hose and dried them on the wet grass as best I could. I heeled myself inside and jumped in the shower. I decided to not go out for the rest of the day as the powers that be were forcing me indoors. I mentally shrugged. I can fill twelve hours just cleaning and organising and never get sick of it.
It took two hours to clean up the unit from the aforementioned " human stain".
I'm dragging Yvette out into the backyard tomorrow and watch her do my tasks and I'll do hers. ( Watching TV, eating breakfast, looking at my Facebook.) I will love it. And be bored in two minutes. Yvette will develop " dishes diarrhoea " and hide till I do the backyard. Not much has changed since she was a 15 year old.
But I'm a " naughty nanny" and will think up some appropriate revenge. Half the fun of having kids is teaching them lessons.
