Good soggy morning Blog and a jolly bonjour to my wonderful, attractive, intelligent followers….and also to my other followers,
You remember the Boomerang blog from a few weeks back? The charming email that I received from my neighbour accusing the Prodigal of being a degenerate (to be fair, she has a point) and of leading her innocent daughter astray? Well, guess what happened? The innocent daughter left her wonderful mother a note to say that she was going off to see the world (or crack her teeth – literal translation from French) with two of her friends and nothing has been heard of them for two weeks. Until yesterday. They got as far as Lyon – pas mal. Now if I were a mean person, I might email her mother and suggest that as she cannot keep her daughter under constant supervision, I am worried about the danger she might put my son in…………….IF I were a mean person, I might write that….
So, credit where it is due, his behavior hasn’t been too awful.
This has nothing to do with the psychiatric appointment last week (3-4 hour round trip for a 15 min session – oh but he did get a party bag…a prescription for sleeping tablets and something to suppress the desire to drink alcohol). This improved behaviour has more to do with the Husband getting the Prodigal to dig a trench (6 foot by 6 foot…….yes, does look dodgy when you write down the dimensions but I’ve hidden the firearms) and other physical activities. The Devil makes work for idle hands (one of Mother’s favourites) but not if the idle hands are blistered and wrapped around a spade.
He has managed to partake in a bit of down time…….relaxing with say………armagnac. I do admire his connoisseur tastes until I worked out that this has cost us around 700 euros. He was slumming/sluming (?) it last night as I found 3/4 empty bottle of rose…..a PLASTIC bottle. Can’t imagine that would make you feel good. Probably good for cleaning toilets, blood and saucepans.
‘Is the Pope a saint?’
‘Are there any saints on the earth?’
‘Erm, what do you mean, Face?’
‘Yeah, you know saints. those ones who had done the 7 erm..things?’
“Are you being serious?’
‘Yes. 7 things. those saints. they’ve done them You know, baptism, confirmation…’
‘incarceration?’ pipes in the Prodigal
‘oh.please.Mary, mother of Jesus, GIVE. ME. STRENGTH.’
The Professor & the Lips
Plenty of fighting.
The Prof’s girlfriend came over on Saturday. He has been en amoureux for 3 years. She is about 2 foot taller than him which was displayed to scale in her Lover’s Drawing.
Fatty & the new dog
We are starting potty training (again. Yes, we started this a year ago. After poo was shoved into every crevice of the toddler climbing frame, I decided to put it off…. indefinitely).
So, as the weather WAS good, I put him in big boy pants. This was going well. He managed to retrieve his equipment to pee on the grass.
At some point, I saw him on his ride on, going around and around and around the outside table. Closely following him (when I say closely, I mean her nose was practically inside the back of his pants) was the new dog. SQUEALS of delight from Fatty as sometimes, his gain meant her loss.
‘Hey, what’s going on Fatty? And Lidl Supermarket Chain Dog, take your nose away from Fatty’s bum!!’
But she didn’t
he had had an accident of the nutella substance kind. It was spilling out the top, the back and under.
I took him from the ride on. His legs resembled an accident with a dark shade of fake tan.
The dog licked up the excess from the ride on. This turned my stomach a bit. I took off Fatty’s pants and pooy wellies.
‘you stand there, Fatty and I’ll get the wipes’
The dog unsated from the ride on appetizer, started to sniff out her main – Fatty’s pants.
She had them in her mouth, she was giving them a good chomp as I grabbed her, grabbed fatty as he made a break to get back on the ride on and screamed for the Face to come and help.
To hold onto a poo smeared, excited dog and toddler is tricky.
Good job the Face stood there gawping and shouting ‘eeeehhhgggghhhh. Yuk. I don’t want to touch THAT dog’
meanwhile, the dinner was burning, burning, burning.
The Face disappeared to answer the phone.
‘oh, mum, it’s the prodigal, he wants to talk to you’
‘put that feckin mobile down and get hold of that feckin dog and stop being so feckin useless’
Ok, my friends, that’s all from me today. Make sure you tune in tonight for the Euro debate between Farage and Clegg. It’s a debate that’s never been had – well, officially. Who will come out the winner and in fact, will the result mean that the UK will ever hold a referendum on the Euro question?
‘If an idea is indeed sensible, it will eventually become just part of the accepted wisdom.’ Nigel Farage
Thoroughly enjoying the old blogs just now Fran. I just have lots of questions predominantly about the prodigal. Does he know he’s called that? What was the outcome of the psychiatric assessment – is TP asking for help/support or trying appeasement? Whenever I read about Fatty – I just think of the “Iyy Freeeensh” [I French] moment in Siobhan’s garden last year!
Is the blog the only “me time” you get?
If you want to start an email dialogue (no charges will be incurred) then drop me a line: email@example.com
The Doc. 😉
Hey Dr. Fran,
Thanks for your comment.
I like the idea of doing an exchange on here – it might even help another parent. What do you reckon?
Anyway, in answer to your questions:
-he doesn’t know that he is called the P but he does know the blog exists but funnily enough has no interest in reading it.
-the outcome re the psych assess is that the husband saw our gp and the prescripton wasn’t for sleeping pills but for anti dep. So she has recommended a paychologist. That is the next route we’ll take. The P is happy to go along with whatever we suggest. He remains (when sober) fairly open to suggestion (from us but unfortunately, not just us).
-the P only actually asks for help when he has been caught doing something unacceptable. Funny that!
Yeah – fatty now not French but just Fatty. Tricky little bugger.
Hope you and yours are well!
Psychologist. Although the idea of a paychologist is an interesting one.
That is so funny, well i’m sure not at the time. Beats Rosie eating the man’s poo in the park with toilet paper hanging out of her mouth and me screaming at her. What is it with black labs and poo?
Laugh. I just don’t know, Landie. The fresher the better seems to be the case for Lidl Supermarket chain Dog.