1. "I'll tell your
father!"
Mum's
favourite disciplinary method was to tell dad the error of our ways
when he arrived home from work and then, when he was paddling our bums, to feel
guilty about it and stop him. It was a confusing time for all of us. Not that
she told him everything. At family functions Mum will occasionally dust off a
horrid tale about some disastrous thing we did as kids and Dad looks
as surprised as anyone. Like when I was two and stepped into a bucket of gloss
paint before walking through the house. Mum quickly called her mum and the two
of them worked frantically to clean up the mess before my father came home from
work, which probably explains why I’m still here to tell the tale. Dad found
out at an Easter Sunday lunch ten years ago when I was 35.
2. "You can be anything you
want to be."
Turns out I couldn't. I work in a
bank so I'm about as far from being a Space Rock God as you can get. I can't
even play air guitar, although I do space out a lot.
3. "I know
everything."
When you’re a kid you really do
think this, don’t you? Mum’s are SMART. I always thought my mum was pretty
clever because she could work out who did what despite not even being in the
room: sometimes just knowing we’d done something wrong, if not immediately
knowing what. Now, of course, I realize she’d simply noticed I’d hidden the
‘world’s greatest stirrer’ spoon, which usually hung on the wall and which Dad
used to paddle my bum with if I was naughty. For some reason I figured Dad wouldn't be able to smack me if he couldn't find the dreaded spoon. Sadly, my
hiding skills weren't even as developed as my dodgy logic circuits and I’d
usually just throw the thing under a cushion and plonk myself on top.
Personally, when it comes to stuff my kids do, I know nothing. I admit
it. I can almost hear my kids thinking, ‘he’s got nothing’, when I try
bluff my way through. Tracey does better. How she even knows who was playing
with which toy is beyond me. Hell, how she knows which names go with which
child is beyond me most days. I'll tag along as she marches into a bedroom to
discipline one of the kids for not brushing their teeth or leaving dolls out
and be in absolute awe of her parenting skills and hoping some of her
awesomeness will brush of on me. Essentially, I'm Robin: she's Batman.
4. "I never want you to
leave."
Oh, really, Mum? Now I admit I've
also said this to all my kids and I know I said it genuinely and sincerely
every time. But they were still cute at this point, having not attended school
yet. It's such a wonder and joy when your kids squeeze their way into your life;
it's hard to imagine ever being happy again without them being right there in
the shadow of your helicopter. I think maybe this is why God invented the
teenage years. I know I was grinning and waving like an idiot as Master20 drove
off to university.
5. Big Family.
For years I thought my family was HUGE.
Turns out a whole busload of people I thought were my uncles and aunties were
nothing more than Mum & Dad's drinking buddies.
6. "If you eat your crusts
you'll have curly hair."
Mum loved this one, although I
think it was just a ruse so I wouldn't waste any food. I went to boarding
school where for five years I was so hungry I didn't waste things like crusts,
gristle or apple cores. Despite this, I have a photo of me with a perm as
proof positive crusts cause nothing more than indigestion if eaten too
quickly and not chewed well enough. But then, maybe they only work on hair
below the belt?
7. “Carrots are good for your eyes.”
Another of Mum’s favourites which I
also think is a load of codswallop. Despite crunching my way through enough carrots
to turn a rabbit’s fur orange, my eyes are shot. Although, to be fair, from
when I turned fifteen the carrots were always going to be hard pressed to
counter 'if you play with yourself you'll go blind'. Who knows, maybe my high
carrot intake is why I can still find something to enjoy in a Jessica Alba
flick.
8. Names.
In grade one, we were asked what
our parents' names were. My hand rose faster than my wife's temper. I had this
one. After all, I'd been screaming at them to do stuff for me for years.
"Yes, Bruce?" my teacher
asked.
"Mum and Dad," I said
confidently.
"No, their actual names,"
she said. "Like your name is Bruce. What are your parents' names?"
What the hell was this nonsense?
To make matters even more
confusing, I did try calling my parents by their Christian names, Geoff &
Judy, on a couple of occasions, but they refused to respond. Well actually, Dad
responded then Mum told him to stop. Things got even worse when a few years
later I discovered Mum was also known by lots of other names - Santa Claus, The
Easter Bunny and The Tooth Fairy amongst them. It was like living in an episode
of The Saint. After this, I stopped being so keen to volunteer answers at
school, which was a good thing because it freed up a lot of time for me to try
catch Sally Noonan's attention.
9. "We don't play
favourites."
Then perhaps you could explain to
me why my brother and sister were given two decent eyebrows a piece yet I only
got the one? Yeah...that's what I thought. Worst still, my monobrow has a bloody
cow-lick. Or rather, had a bloody cow-lick.
Years of cosmetic surgery (waxing) have corrected this hideous imperfection,
but at what cost? I no longer have the high moral ground necessary to toss
scathing comments at my mates who drink shandies and have had perms. No, wait.
That's me too. Hey, I’m a child of the eighties. Our role models were Boy
George and Adam Ant for Pete’s sake. We were never going to turn out normal.
10. "Come here now, or
I'm leaving without you!"
Although I suspect this was an
empty threat because three years ago, after repeatedly trying to convince
me to move back to Brisvegas, my parents moved so Mum could be two hundred
meters up the road from where I live. But how often was I threatened with this
when I was lagging behind at the shops? And I’m a product of my mother’s
upbringing. Not that I use this particular threat – my kids are more switched
on than I was and would call my bluff. Instead I threaten to tell their mother.
We're all rather sensibly scared of her, even though she doesn't even have a
spoon engraved with ‘world’s biggest stirrer’ hanging on the wall. She doesn't need it.
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