All posts filed under: humour

Comparison between 1st long distance romance visit prep, & 3rd [Don’t read this one, ‘H’ my love]

1st: Car cleaned inside and out 3rd: It’s fine. 1st: Lawns mowed, & edges snipped by professionals 3rd: It’s fine. I’ll do it if I have time 1st: All floors vacuumed and mopped (I only mop once every 3 months to be honest) 3rd: Hope I have time to vacuum 1st: Bathroom shower scrubbed with serious anti-mould stuff 3rd: It’s fine 1st: $170 worth of specialty groceries/organic juices/mineral water bottled at glacier source by albino virgins in single-use-only cotton gloves 3rd: So what’s wrong with tap water anyway? 1st: Gourmet meals planned & prepared, including several desserts 3rd: Shit, I hope I’ve got time to chuck a pot of soup on… maybe ‘H’ can cook… 1st: Haircut/facial/toenails painted 3rd: Aren’t I just loved for my quirky mind & honest, funny blog posts? I won’t go on; I know you get the idea. But it’s only 3 more sleeps now!

Driving with teenage son #4

Me: I need something humorous about driving with you for my Blog… Ooh, look at that ‘grey nomad’ old lady over there with her massive brand new shiny RV … mmm, it’s even got a satellite dish… she must be driving round Australia… that’ll be me one day y’know, spending all your inheritance… Him: Well, that’s certainly not funny.

Eating with teenage son…

We’re chatting & laughing as we share my yummy nachos, when suddenly: Him: Mum… Me: [Giggling, cheesey corn chips halfway to my mouth] Yes Sweetie… Him: Have you seen that meme online which says ‘If I can hear you chew your food, I’m fantasizing about killing you’?   *Disclaimer: my son ‘Almost17’ is fabulously kind, sensitive, smart and honest. We spent 2 months sitting in an old Barn in the Dordogne region of France a couple of years ago, cooking, reading, & talking. HERE’S one of my fav longer posts from those days, if you’re interested ❤

Driving with teenage son #1

Him: “Mum, I’d like you to try and control some of your sassy replies; there’s no need to always be so feisty.” Me: [deep breathing through half a dozen sassy replies, and a proud Feminist rave about smashing the patriarchy] “Perhaps you could try choosing not to react to them?” Him: [after pausing for a moment to consider this] “But if you weren’t so sassy, I wouldn’t have to choose that, so nice try Mum, but it’s back to you I’m afraid.”   *Disclaimer: longer post with statistics and his true Feminism HERE  

Walking with teenage son…

… along our favourite sunset beach, talking. Somehow I lose the thread of the conversation (maybe it was yet another rave about surfing?), and tune out a bit. He suddenly says ‘Mum, what are you doing?’. I answer ‘Sorry Sweetie, I didn’t understand what you meant, so I started daydreaming…’ He replies, with that knowing sigh only teenagers can truly master: ‘Well, you’re not going to understand by not listening are you?’