Thursday, October 11, 2007

Luck be a Hausfrau

I feel compelled to put this in because, as some of you may already know, I have a knack with four-leafed clovers. True! I often just look down and there they are.

This skill isn't uncommon, by the way. I know two other people who do this. So don't worry, I'm not having delusions of grandeur, or delusions of Luckiness.

And just to prove that today wasn't any luckier than any other day, I will go for the dot-point summary:
  • Kids wouldn't eat breakfast and fought over Lego. (Lose.)
  • Walked down The Hill to the post office where I managed to fax the proof that we'd registered ourselves in this town to the Relocation office who are dealing with our sea-freight delivery. (Win.)
  • Went to supermarket where kids fought loudly over who got to carry what. (Lose.)
  • Bought bread and other stuff I needed, including Desperate Hausfrau frozen lasagne. (Win.)
  • Forgot the onions. (Lose.)
  • Skyped with a friend who made me laugh my head off. (Win.)
  • Made Desperate Hausfrau lasagne which looked like vomit and tasted not much better. (Lose.)
  • Got a few jobs around the house done and decided to go on an outing, to relive the Card-game In The Cafe scenario because the kids loved it so much last time. (Win.)
  • Kids fought all the way over the scooter (DH had taken the other one to work). And was given advice on the train from a totally poker-faced local about parenting. (Lose.)
    • Me: (To screeching children who both want the same seat.) Shhhh! Kids! Shhhhh!
    • Lecturing Local: Swiss-German stuff.
    • Me: Shhh! Sit down please!
    • LL: Swiss-German stuff.
    • Me: Right! Follow me! (Exit train carriage Stage Left to stand in the 'lobby' of the carriage with children in tow.)
    • Lecturing Local (following me): There is plenty of room for you all to sit.
    • Me: Thankyou, it's alright.
    • LL: Really, you should not parent like this.
    • Me: I see.
    • LL: I know this is how you feel, but it's not the way.
    • Me: I'm sorry. They were being a little too loud.
    • LL: No. They should listen to you. Not to the people in the train, not to anyone else. They should listen to you. (Thumps his chest.) Have you ever read Daniel Stern?
    • Me: Um, no. (Thinks: Is this really happening?)
    • LL: You should read it. It will help you.
    • Me: Thankyou.
    • LL: Stern! (Steps off train.)
    • A moment of panic as I think: 'Please let this not be my stop so I don't have to follow this man... Is it or isn't it? Crikey! Where's the sign? What if I end up in the wrong place? Where am I? What am I doing here anyway? At least my children have stopped arguing...' etc. Kids are looking at me in shock.)
    • DD: Mum, was that good or bad?
  • At cafe, had a cup of tea. (Win.)
  • DS, in taking off his jumper, sent hot tea into the air and onto one of my legs. (Lose.)
  • Had a fun game of something we invented because even though I had my dictionary with me, I still couldn't decipher the rules of Schwarzer Peter. (Win.)
  • DD, in inspecting her cup, poured dregs of hot chocolate over the other one of my legs. (Lose, but actually by this time it was all starting to become kind of farcical, and I began laughing hysterically.) (Win.)
  • Made it home in one piece, and found a 4-leafed clover along the way.

2 comments:

heidiho said...

good on you lib, i can so relate to the hysterical laughter at the end of a ridiculus day.
i love the story about the stranger giving you parenting advice on the train. that's priceless. i hope you've googled the author and taken notes!

Joëlle weblog said...

I have only one thing to write to you today Libby...

Daniel Stern! :-)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daniel_Stern_%28writer%29

Me too, I can also relate to that hysterical laughter (and not only at the end of a ridiculus day... sometimes it only takes half day to get there)!

Joëlle x