The Imperfect Parent

She-who-no- longer-worships-Pink-In-favour-Of-Animal-Prints (lets just call her Little Cheetah because that's her latest animal and fashion obsession) has decided that Mummy needs a reward chart; to keep her on track in this parenting gig.

I am breaking rule after rule, making a multitude of rookie mistakes and well, generally behaving (especially around bed-time) more like the teenage babysitter than the mummy person.

And the films I watch with her; the M rated films!  Yes it's true. As long as there's no blood, gore dismembering or gratuitous swearing or sex scenes, she's watching them with me:
Thor 1&2, The Avengers (she's a big fan of The Hulk), Suddenly 30, While You Were Sleeping, and tonight we watched Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen.

So I am to make a reward chart like hers, with sad faces for crimes such as -
- leaving her school bag at home,
- hitting her in the head with the hair brush,
- pulling too hard brushing her hair
- and tonight's crime: exciting the child right before bed.

We'd just finished watching Lindsay Lohan in Confessions Of A Teenage Drama Queen and she was dancing around the living room. I had this sudden urge to show her what real dancing was.

I turned  the final dance scene of Dirty Dancing;.  I gave her a quick background about the 17-y-o girl who'd been taught to dance by the nice boy everyone thought was a not-nice-boy and how they had fallen in love but never could execute "the lift" even with lots of practice.

So at five minutes to bed-time we've created a dance party and even the orange dog has joined in.  We shrieked, we sang along, we cheered when they made the perfect "lift". We had a ball, and my girl was so excited that after all their mistakes and trying that they got it in the end.

As we cought our breath, I explained the my Little Cheetah the basic rule of parenting; how parents are not supposed to over-excite their children before bed. Calm bed-time routine etcetera, etcetera.
She grinned at me and said "Oh-oh!"

So then we came up with the idea of a reward chart for me.

<sigh> In fairness, I'm getting better at getting her to school on time (even if I have to make a rare trip home for the school bag and sneak it onto her peg while she's in class) the lunch box is packed and she has shiny polished shoes and some sort of hair-do every day.

Persona non grata

  

“In a show of our good manners and breeding we are extending you a  dinner invitation (albeit indirectly and as an after-thought).  

Really hoping you can’t make it… “

When I found out that the dinner invitation to Eurostars’ wasn't even firsthand but came through our friends who were coming to stay with us.  :0/  We decided we were busy that night.

(Had a pile of shoelaces to shampoo actually)

Who asks someone over for dinner who lives under 20klm away via a family in Europe?? Is it just me or does that just scream of "oh well I guess we're obliged to include you, but maybe you'll get the message anyway and NOT accept..."

Both Mr Frenchie and I had worked with the husband over several years and two continents and we kept in touch. We all travelled out to Australia around the same time, and I’d welcomed her to Sydney with open arms, genuine sympathy and a much needed ear; it was such a culture shock for this princess; the transition from Holland Park London to Malooloobah Queensland. But despite the friendly support, seems I will always remain persona non-grata to Princess Eurostar.

Then some more ex-colleagues came down under for a visit, and the Euro Stars wanted to have them to dinner at the mansion.  So they were invited.

But ‘Awkward Much?’ The dinner party would be during their stay with us and after a heavily pregnant pause, eventually it was extended to include ourselves.

It didn’t come directly, but through our visiting colleagues after they’d been staying a week. Kind of a case of;  ‘oh why not ask those two if they can make it as well.’

Why not indeed. Like I said; many dirty shoelaces to attend to.

Well the last time I’d seen Princess Eurostar it was at another ex-collegue’s cocktail party. She was making sociable noises in my direction that night.

That is until I found myself in a Mr Darcy eavesdrops on Mrs Bennet moment.

Someone had asked me how my book was going and I ended up in an animated discussion with the hostess about my writers block of the moment; which happened to be my difficulties with writing sex-scenes.

Euro-princess dropped her mask on the floor; her beatific smile turned to a look of someone whose Louboutins  have just sunk into a steaming pile of dog poo, and she shot off like a racing greyhound.
(she's certainly built for it)

And while the hostess and I really bonded (and I got some great sexpirational  tips from the saucy minx) Eurostar kept her distance the rest of the night has continued giving me a wide berth ever since.

I am the social equivalent of a steaming pile of dog pooh, apparently.  That's Cool.

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This clip is for all the lovely genuine and supportive friends I’ve made and kept not just from my years in Europe but also since my arrival down under, who still like me very much  just as I am. 

And that setniment runs both ways xx

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