I really cannot stand people who don't pick their dog's shit up. It is the epitome of selfishness; giving two fingers to the community they live in...
... And wherever it is, wherever we are, it's always one of my children who steps in it.
There are only two places where it is acceptable to leave a dog turd:
1. Very long grass off the beaten track
2. The sea
Otherwise pick it up!
I am now all for offenders having their dogs taken off them - and those who think I'm harsh, I suggest you clean two pairs of Croc boots (£30 per pair) and a Bugaboo wheel (£500 of buggy) that is laden with the sticky, stinking, revolting mess and then come back at me.
Don't even dare to say I should teach my children where they are going - don't even dare to suggest that my children should spend their time outside (in the little freedom this society allows for children) not running, laughing , chasing, giggling skipping or hopping, but instead watching the floor, in case they tread in something a dog owner couldn't be bothered to pick up,
And besides I challenge anyone to walk down the street, with a pram, a buggy board and a child holding onto either side and ensure all 6 pairs of feet and all 5 wheels avoid a huge, steaming, fly ridden turd that someone has left in the middle of the footpath.
Let me know how you get on.
Showing posts with label D. Show all posts
Showing posts with label D. Show all posts
Thursday, 9 February 2012
Thursday, 10 November 2011
D - DEMOBs and SMOGs
So I'm not sure where this idea was spawned (this idea being the most wonderful of acronyms I have ever come across) so I can't give credit, but I do know my Mum told me about them after reading an article on Mumsnet. Therefore, some wonderful Mumsnetter is sure to comment and put me straight.
SMOG - Smug Mothers Of Girls
DEMOB - DEfensive Mother Of Boys
Brilliant!
Before I had children I was unaware of this divide. I actually thought things hadn't moved on from the 50's where the baby boy was still a blessing and the girl, was, you know, bad luck. But how wrong was I? Girl worship has landed and it isn't budging an inch.
I do know a few SMOGs. I haven't told them they are actually a SMOG, but they are. They often say things like ..."Well I have girls" and "Oh no girls don't do that" and "Really?". And, I know that it doesn't sound that bad, but it's not what they say but the way they say it. The look on their face, the half smile, the head placement slightly to the left and the glitter of triumph in their eyes; they're smug - they are a SMOG!
And then, there's the ones I don't know. The ones at the park, or the soft play area, or the supermarket. The ones with their noses turned high and looks of pure horror as my boys circle my legs screaming, or dive bomb into the swimming pool or run through puddles regardless of what's on their feet. The ones whose daughters stand uncomfortably in frills and ribbons and "won't wear anything but pink". (She will if you don't give her a choice though, I'm pretty sure it's not her who holds the Next Directory account.) There the ones I really don't like... The judgemental Smog.
And as much as I try not to be a DEMOB, I can't help it. I love my boys; I embrace the noise, I encourage the mess and I laugh at their trails of destruction. So when some prissy Mum, dressed head to toe in Boden, daughter with matching jumper on knee, is gawking at my two year old as he he eats the chalk at playgroup and then throws it on the floor as he runs to dunk his head in the dirty paint water, it takes all my will power not to defensively tell them "to get over themselves" instead I just turn proudly and say"I taught him that."
But I do try to be level headed, not to resort to pantomime boos and hisses when a SMOG tells me of her woes of having to make a Snow White birthday cake, or how The Disney Store has already run out of glass slippers and there's 5 weeks till Christmas, or how they are struggling to master the french plait. But this I can listen to, and just laugh at, because my concerns are about how to stop my youngest putting his hand into his dirty nappy to share its content with the room or explaining to a four your old why it isn't nice to finger shoot people as we overtake them in the car. But what I really have objection to is the SMOG's look of pity when I tell them I'm having a third boy. "Poor you!"
And before I know it I'm ranting at them "We're having a baby,a s far as we know he is perfectly healthy. Some people will never have a baby. We are really lucky to have three boys and personally we think it's going to be great!"
But equally the DEMOBS are just as irritating. In the summer, whilst camping, I got talking to another Mum at a restaurant. "Do you know what you are having?" she asked eying my bump.
"Yes a third boy" I said smiling "But I'm pleased because I think pink is overrated" I joked. She didn't respond.
"Do you just have the two bo.."
I hadn't finished the question when she replied, in a very loud voice, "Yes and I wouldn't have it any other way!"
I'm pretty sure she also looked up to the sky.
The conversation ended, as I wasn't sure if she was talking to me, or someone up above. But I made a promise to the boys there and then that I wouldn't be one of those Mothers. Ones who says things like "Well he's a boy" as he throws all the shoes of the shelves in Clarks or "he's just asserting himself" as he bangs the other children on the head with a toy hammer. Or, the worse one, "At least I'll know I'll be looked after" as her son blows raspberry's out the window at passers by. (No, my dear, you will be looking after him... FOREVER)
I have also had to make myself promise not to become "anti-girls". Recently I have noticed myself raising my eyebrows or smirking as girl-worship is pushed further into my face. And the worst bit, as much of a tomboy as I was growing up, I have always loved the colour pink. But the more I see it on little girls, the more it is losing its appeal, to the point I actually wrestled a "pink wafer" off a four year old girl at a party the other day as she wanted "all the pink biscuits" and I ws adamant, my son, who couldn't care less, also wanted one. I think my DEMOB membership card may be arriving in the post soon.
However, if I ever was to have a girl, I am pretty sure at the age of 4 she'd get stuck up a tree, adorn a full football strip at the age of 9, and be able to down a pint at 17! Just like her Mum!
SMOG - Smug Mothers Of Girls
DEMOB - DEfensive Mother Of Boys
Brilliant!
Before I had children I was unaware of this divide. I actually thought things hadn't moved on from the 50's where the baby boy was still a blessing and the girl, was, you know, bad luck. But how wrong was I? Girl worship has landed and it isn't budging an inch.
I do know a few SMOGs. I haven't told them they are actually a SMOG, but they are. They often say things like ..."Well I have girls" and "Oh no girls don't do that" and "Really?". And, I know that it doesn't sound that bad, but it's not what they say but the way they say it. The look on their face, the half smile, the head placement slightly to the left and the glitter of triumph in their eyes; they're smug - they are a SMOG!
And then, there's the ones I don't know. The ones at the park, or the soft play area, or the supermarket. The ones with their noses turned high and looks of pure horror as my boys circle my legs screaming, or dive bomb into the swimming pool or run through puddles regardless of what's on their feet. The ones whose daughters stand uncomfortably in frills and ribbons and "won't wear anything but pink". (She will if you don't give her a choice though, I'm pretty sure it's not her who holds the Next Directory account.) There the ones I really don't like... The judgemental Smog.
And as much as I try not to be a DEMOB, I can't help it. I love my boys; I embrace the noise, I encourage the mess and I laugh at their trails of destruction. So when some prissy Mum, dressed head to toe in Boden, daughter with matching jumper on knee, is gawking at my two year old as he he eats the chalk at playgroup and then throws it on the floor as he runs to dunk his head in the dirty paint water, it takes all my will power not to defensively tell them "to get over themselves" instead I just turn proudly and say"I taught him that."
But I do try to be level headed, not to resort to pantomime boos and hisses when a SMOG tells me of her woes of having to make a Snow White birthday cake, or how The Disney Store has already run out of glass slippers and there's 5 weeks till Christmas, or how they are struggling to master the french plait. But this I can listen to, and just laugh at, because my concerns are about how to stop my youngest putting his hand into his dirty nappy to share its content with the room or explaining to a four your old why it isn't nice to finger shoot people as we overtake them in the car. But what I really have objection to is the SMOG's look of pity when I tell them I'm having a third boy. "Poor you!"
And before I know it I'm ranting at them "We're having a baby,a s far as we know he is perfectly healthy. Some people will never have a baby. We are really lucky to have three boys and personally we think it's going to be great!"
But equally the DEMOBS are just as irritating. In the summer, whilst camping, I got talking to another Mum at a restaurant. "Do you know what you are having?" she asked eying my bump.
"Yes a third boy" I said smiling "But I'm pleased because I think pink is overrated" I joked. She didn't respond.
"Do you just have the two bo.."
I hadn't finished the question when she replied, in a very loud voice, "Yes and I wouldn't have it any other way!"
I'm pretty sure she also looked up to the sky.
The conversation ended, as I wasn't sure if she was talking to me, or someone up above. But I made a promise to the boys there and then that I wouldn't be one of those Mothers. Ones who says things like "Well he's a boy" as he throws all the shoes of the shelves in Clarks or "he's just asserting himself" as he bangs the other children on the head with a toy hammer. Or, the worse one, "At least I'll know I'll be looked after" as her son blows raspberry's out the window at passers by. (No, my dear, you will be looking after him... FOREVER)
I have also had to make myself promise not to become "anti-girls". Recently I have noticed myself raising my eyebrows or smirking as girl-worship is pushed further into my face. And the worst bit, as much of a tomboy as I was growing up, I have always loved the colour pink. But the more I see it on little girls, the more it is losing its appeal, to the point I actually wrestled a "pink wafer" off a four year old girl at a party the other day as she wanted "all the pink biscuits" and I ws adamant, my son, who couldn't care less, also wanted one. I think my DEMOB membership card may be arriving in the post soon.
However, if I ever was to have a girl, I am pretty sure at the age of 4 she'd get stuck up a tree, adorn a full football strip at the age of 9, and be able to down a pint at 17! Just like her Mum!
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
D- Dads
I am very lucky. My partner is a "hands on" dad! A good'un. A grafter. A star.
I know women have the hardest of hard jobs; carrying the baby, giving birth, making the big decisions and then all of the "new baby" politics that take place afterwards. It helps if we can think that the Dads have got it easy, but if you stand back and think about what it's like on the outside, it must be quite hard.
The dad will never feel a comforting kick from inside his tummy, never understand the ecstacy a mother feels at the end of childbirth, never comfort a baby with his own milk and he rarely gets to spend the first night with his new family. Sent off home. Alone.
A new dad will get two weeks off (if he's lucky) with his new child and then he has to be the first to leave, the first to say goodbye, the first to return to work and step out of the bubble and back into reality.
But in this modern day society we expect them to do everything that we do. We expect everything to be equal ,to be shared. And if you've got a good one - it is!
The father of my sons goes to work everyday so I don't have to. He comes home later than he ever did and works through his lunch hour, he sorts out all the bills and sometimes even does the weekly shop on his own, to save me a job. And in return fot this? He is still on the outside. He was working when they crawled for the first time. Not there when they took their first steps, tried their first food and babbled their first words. He misses out on taking them to school on their first day. He can't get time off to watch them in their first nativity play. He won't be there to cheer them on at their first sport's day. He's busy at work so I can do all of these wonderful things.
For all those Dads who are rolling up their sleeves up, making life easier for us Mums. -Well done and thank you.
I know women have the hardest of hard jobs; carrying the baby, giving birth, making the big decisions and then all of the "new baby" politics that take place afterwards. It helps if we can think that the Dads have got it easy, but if you stand back and think about what it's like on the outside, it must be quite hard.
The dad will never feel a comforting kick from inside his tummy, never understand the ecstacy a mother feels at the end of childbirth, never comfort a baby with his own milk and he rarely gets to spend the first night with his new family. Sent off home. Alone.
A new dad will get two weeks off (if he's lucky) with his new child and then he has to be the first to leave, the first to say goodbye, the first to return to work and step out of the bubble and back into reality.
But in this modern day society we expect them to do everything that we do. We expect everything to be equal ,to be shared. And if you've got a good one - it is!
The father of my sons goes to work everyday so I don't have to. He comes home later than he ever did and works through his lunch hour, he sorts out all the bills and sometimes even does the weekly shop on his own, to save me a job. And in return fot this? He is still on the outside. He was working when they crawled for the first time. Not there when they took their first steps, tried their first food and babbled their first words. He misses out on taking them to school on their first day. He can't get time off to watch them in their first nativity play. He won't be there to cheer them on at their first sport's day. He's busy at work so I can do all of these wonderful things.
For all those Dads who are rolling up their sleeves up, making life easier for us Mums. -Well done and thank you.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)