Category Archives: teh suck

Sharp Things Are Sharp.

I cut off the tip of my finger on Sunday. It was terrifyingly awful and I didn’t know what to do. I put it under water, then thought maybe that would make me bleed to death, so squeezed a paper towel over it and fled outside to my skipping husband, like a 4 year old child going “I cut my finger!!!!”

He made me show him, and I couldn’t stop looking, and it just kept bleeding and bleeding and then I got the cold sweats and shakes and felt like I was gonna throw up, or pass out, or do both at the same time. It’s just the tiniest of wounds, I swear. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I think that because it didn’t hurt and because there was lots of bleeding, I just couldn’t handle it. I am not good with blood, and haven’t been since I had babies…but I never thought my own blood scared me.

We had no plasters, so he had to go and buy some. In the meantime, Aleeya did not pay me any mind at all thank you very much, and Siobhan came racing out of her room to rub my back and promise me I wasn’t going to die. She is such an awesome caretaker! She brought me water and talked me through it and I was all “I’m such a BABYYYYYY!” I am.

Ollie came back and wouldn’t let me look at it while he pulled the paper towel away, but I had to look! And then he gave me a plaster in the shape of a wizard’s hat which hurt a lot to have put on, and they both giggled at my whimpering.

Afterwards, he salvaged the piece of flesh from the pile of cabbage I had been unsuccessfully trying to turn into coleslaw, and came out with it on his fingertip gleefully showing me. Siobhan was all “OMG! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” And I turned green and almost cried. He said “and you call yourself a zombie fan.” The shame in his voice was crippling!

I think I should change the plaster, but he says it should be okay for another day or two…and I’m willing to let him be right, because I am nervous about looking at it! It’s ridiculous and I understand the ridiculousness of it, but omg! I can’t help it! Typing is hard, everything is difficult, although it doesn’t hurt unless direct pressure is applied, and I am being very careful about not doing that. I banged it yesterday and saw stars.

The worst part is…it wasn’t even my day to cook! I was just being helpful!

Anyway, it’s now Wednesday and so I decided that I needed to be brave and take the plaster off, which I did. I had to be very careful with more sharp things and cut it away. I did this with much braveness all by myself alone in the bathroom. I may have whimpered a lot, but that’s only because it was stuck to the wounded bit! Oh the inhumanity!

I soaked it under cold water and carefully, carefully peeled it off, to reveal a white and wrinkly fingertip underneath. It really is not the prettiest thing in the world. I can see now that I also shaved off part of my fingernail. With much sucking in of breath and steeling myself with words of encouragement, I managed to put a little antiseptic cream on it and have just left it out in the open for the day. I might have also taken pictures.

Good lord internet! Why on earth would anyone cut the tip of their own fingers off? It’s so revolting! It looks hideous, typing is a massive chore, and I feel very sorry for myself. I wonder if my finger will round out or heal with a dent? ūüôĀ

goodbyes are never easy

But they have to be said. It’s the end of 2010 and we just said goodbye to our oldest cat, Swirl, a couple of days ago. It was her time to go, but that doesn’t really make it any easier. We’ve been prepared for this day, for a long time, but still, pushing an unwilling cat into a carry box and taking her away to an end she doesn’t really understand is coming is a hard thing to do.

I couldn’t do it. I would have broken down when they said that whatever was wrong with her was fixable, and instead of $100 we’d have ended up paying $1000 to get her “fixed”. She couldn’t take care of herself anymore. She couldn’t keep herself clean, she smelled like pee and she peed constantly inside. She was getting vicious and forgetful and the summer heat wasn’t helping. She was incredibly overweight and I have a feeling she was riddled with cancer. She’d had a strange spot on her nose for years, and her stomach wasn’t soft fat, it was rock hard.

Ollie took her in and came back and was upset. We held each other and I promised that next time it would be my turn. I’m no good at doing that sort of thing. It’s not easy, even when you know it’s for the best. I keep seeing her everywhere and waiting for her to slink past me on the way to the food bowls. It’s left me feeling a little strange and emotional. Vulnerable, angry, sad…I didn’t think I’d feel this way, but I do.

Anyway, it’s a new year tomorrow. I’m going to try to write here more. I know I keep saying that, but the problem is, I don’t ever have anything amusing to talk about, and I feel like all my posts are whiny and emo, which just annoys me. The quakes since Boxing Day haven’t really helped either. There are possibly a few more cracks appearing in the house and it really doesn’t do anything for my moods.

I’m not making any new year resolutions this year. Every time I do, the year turns to crap. One goodbye that I am definitely looking forward to is the end of 2010. It’s been a hideous year on so many different levels and I am not sad at all to be saying goodbye to it. Bring on 2011.

Sweet dreams fat Swirl. xo

what not to talk about in christchurch

Many of you know that Christchurch suffered a pretty terrifying earthquake two months ago. It was 7.1 and we all came out of it okay. I wrote a little about my experience, which I’ll probably post up here on one of those many days when I can’t think of anything else to write.

Anyway, last night after we watched Inception, yes again! Oh the joys of Chris Nolan and obviously, Cillian Murphy, who is perhaps the most perfect specimen of the male species ever…I digress. Last night, I turned to Ollie and I said “we haven’t had any noticeable earthquakes for awhile!”

“No.” He replied. “Just a few around the 3 mark that we haven’t really noticed.”

He looked it up on the Geonet earthquake site – check it out! You can follow our progress, and we talked about all the little ones we hadn’t felt. ¬†Well, just about quarter of an hour after that, I was in bed, and guess what internet? ¬†Ya, that’s right. Earthquake. It was just a little one, but it did make the house bang and the windows rattle and my poor heart leap in my chest, but it was sudden and over again and I settled back down to read my book. A couple of minutes later, there’s another one! Then not long after that, yep..another one.

And then just as I was on the verge of sleep, a 4.7 rocked through the house, banging the windows, crunching the floor and shuddering violently for a good 30 seconds or so. The both of us sat up and were trying to decide whether or not it was one we were going to have to throw ourselves out of bed over and save the girls when it stopped and we fell back down and went to sleep again.

So, internet. The moral of the story is: don’t let me talk about earthquakes out loud, because apparently, the earth likes to prove me wrong.

Teef, teefy, teefers! And My Irrationality.

Ohai readers! Actually, I’m fairly sure you’ve all gone, and I truly don’t blame you at all. I have really had nothing at all interesting to tell you, which makes blogging very, very difficult indeed.¬† Anyway, let me thrill you with yet another story about my teeth. I shall endeavour to come back and be more interesting and more dedicated. But until I get a job and actually have a reason to get out of the house and be around people again, it might take me awhile to figure out any thrilling ways to entertain you about the boringness of my life!

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this intensely irrational fear of losing my teeth. It’s one of those fears that creeps up on me and terrifies me into believing they’re all going to fall out of my head and I have been plagued by nightmares where my teeth just crumble and flake and fall out, and I’m spitting my teeth out into my hands. It’s really, really terrifying. I wake up in a cold sweat.

When I was 16 I think…maybe 15, a few friends and myself got drunk at one of their houses and then decided to go for a walk down to this park. The girl whose house it was decided that we’d take a shortcut through someone else’s property. This involved jumping down over quite a high wall.¬† I’m 5’2, so pretty much everything is very high. So we’re sitting on the edge of it, and a dog starts barking hardcore, so we jump, and one of my friends who is behind me, and much larger than I was fell on my back and smashed my face into the ground. Which was gravel. We get up and dust off, and I’m thinking “wtf is that warm shit dripping onto my hand?”¬†I¬†look down, and it’s blood. My teeth punctured my bottom lip and I am bleeding like you see in movies!¬†It was terrifying!¬†It didn’t even hurt.

Anyway, we walk to the hospital, because I¬†lived in a very small town, and it wasn’t far…and they tell me it’s shredded, and there’s no way they’re going to be able to stitch it, so give me some tissues to staunch the bloodflow and send me on my way. Anyway…that little venture cracked my two front teeth, but they were fine, and I was terrified of the dentist, so I¬†ignored it.¬† Then, my parents let me ride one of those little motor scooters so that they didn’t have to drive me around the place all the time.¬† I¬†played a little¬† game one night of seeing how fast I could take the corners. You’re starting to see where I’m going with this, right?

I actually made it all the way home, where I screamed into our driveway and slammed on the brakes…on gravel. I¬†lost control of the bike and skidded off. I¬†was wearing a helmet which is lucky, because my head didn’t smash like an orange, but it wasn’t a full helmet and I¬†cracked my teeth..again. This time, I¬†did go to the dentist. He decided they needed root canals, and when he started drilling, I whimpered, and he said “Did you feel that?”¬†And I..stupid girl, went “uh..uh huh?”¬†I¬†honestly don’t think I felt a thing, but I was so scared because he wouldn’t give me an injection. “Oh.”¬†He says…”in that case, you’re fine!”¬†And he filled the little hole he’d made and sent me on my way. Why was this stupid?¬†Because by the time I actually went in to get them fixed, I¬†was 23 and it came straight out of my stupid pocket. ¬†And holy shit did it cost me an arm and a leg.¬† I asked the dentist who did it, if I’d ever be able to get braces, which had been my dream ever since I was 12 years old.¬†“No.”¬†He said. “Your teeth will never be strong enough.”¬†I¬†was -devastated-. Truly.

I can’t tell you how badly I¬†wanted them, and what a massive crushing blow this was. Anyway, years and years went by, and I hit thirty, and my grandmother had left the grandchildren money when she died. I had more than enough to make an appointment with the orthodontist and see for sure whether or not I could get braces. They told me yes, and promised me that braces moved so slowly that teeth which had root canals were never in any danger. So I went ahead and had them fitted. It took two teeth being pulled out to make room for the rest to move back.¬†That was stressful, but it was fine. I wanted it done, and I was going to do whatever I¬†needed to, to do it. I¬†still had dreams where my teeth were all falling out…and even though my dentist had to keep pausing to shake out his hand and almost put his foot up on my chest to yank my teeth out..and told me in no uncertain terms just how strong my jawbone and teeth are, I still felt as though they were ready to crumble on me at any second.

Anyway, two years with braces left me with straight teeth, and a wire along the back of my teeth at the bottom. It’ll be there, probably forever. But somehow, it dislodged itself a couple of days ago, and then last night I had a look at it in the mirror, and when it moved, part of my tooth moved with it too. I was horrified!¬†A whole big chip of my tooth had been taken off by this wire!¬†It was my dream coming true in front of my very eyes. I showed Ollie, just to be sure and he freaked out and told me to stop touching it. So I¬†rung the Orthodontist today, and they said no one could see me until Monday. Ollie got shitty and called them back demanding that I¬†be seen because I couldn’t go all weekend with a broken tooth. They fit me in today. I spent the whole day so worked up and terrified that I¬†barely managed to keep any food down, and all I could think about was how much it’d cost to be fixed, how broke we now are, the kids, the mortgage, my still not having a job and a dentistry bill hanging over my head.

3pm finally came around and in I went. “Oh, it has come loose.”¬†She said, and went about yanking my face around and scraping glue off. “Are you sure that’s not part of my tooth?”¬†I¬†ask, not really wanting to know the answer. “Yep, just lots of glue.”¬†She said, drilling the last of it off and regluing it back down again. I¬†can’t even begin to express the huge amount of relief and foolishness I¬†felt. She did say that sometimes the glue looks so much like teeth they have to test it, if it’s glue it turns grey and if it’s tooth it stays white. She said, that in the history of their practice, no one had lost any parts of their teeth. And I almost cried in both relief and embarrassment. I¬†know that it fooled my husband and that I have a truly insane fear attached to my teeth breaking and falling out, but there is nothing in the world to stop you feeling like a stupid child when you’re ready to go in there and scream the practice down, only to realise that you have totally overreacted.

I Think I’m Paranoid.

I don’t know what’s got into me lately, but I have this awful paranoia about everything lately. I think, a large part of it stems from the car break in, but mostly, it comes from personal experience, and the stories of friends.¬† Siobhan rang me from school today. This child, is the most trustworthy, smart, beautiful creature you’ve ever laid eyes on. To have her call me from school, is to put it lightly, extremely out of character. “Mum!” she says. “The teacher got the days wrong, and we actually have the wearable arts practice today from 4 until 6pm. So if you can come and pick me up then that would be good!”¬† I’m all “oh! Well. Sure. That’s okay.” We discuss Aleeya and Siobhan offers to walk her home, to which I tell her that Aleeya will be fine. She needs to get used to walking alone, and while she’s my baby and I don’t much like the thought of it, Siobhan was walking home alone at 6 – at that stage, to be fair, we only lived five houses away.¬† But still.¬† It’s a ten minute walk, it’s fine.

Aleeya gets home on time, and goes off to do whatever it is she gets up to, which usually involves scissors, lots of paper, and every piece of available crafting paper she can find. She showed me a card she made yesterday, it was astoundingly gorgeous. I was very impressed, and she was super proud.  And then, we bundled ourselves up nice and warm, because 6pm is pretty dark and cold, and wandered off down to the school.

We get there, and everything is dark. There are no people anywhere…my child is no where to be seen. We walked through the school, went into the office, and the woman behind the desk said “Oh, I don’t know.” When I asked her about the kids who’d gone off with this teacher.¬† Okay good. That’s a good thing to say to a parent. “I don’t know where your child is! Sorry! But you can wait in here if you like.”¬† Uhm. No. I do not like.¬† So we went out again, and wandered around, and saw some kids. “Are you looking for the Guides?”¬† They ask, very helpfully. Erm. No…No one is around.¬† Fifteen minutes later, no one is around, and there are no other parents.¬† There are nine kids on this trip, where the hell are the parents? You can imagine, that by this stage, I’m starting to panic a little.¬† Then I think, we’re sort of on the way home…maybe, the teacher dropped her off.

I don’t have a cellphone right now, and neither does Siobhan. Ollie’s put my simcard in his, but it has no money on it, and I have no one’s numbers anyway, so it’s of absolutely no use. I have no way to contact my 12 year old daughter.¬† So we start heading towards home, and turning around whenever it looks like a car is heading into the school.¬† We walked up and down the street twice. Aleeya ran into the carpark twice and came back with nothing.¬† It’s 6.30pm and any semblance of self control that I have, is slowly beginning to leak into sheer and utter panic.¬† Then we see another car.

We headed back for the third time, and Aleeya ran up to see if it was her sister.¬† This was.¬† She comes walking down with another girl and she’s all “see ya!”¬† And I’m so relieved, and SO terrified that I exploded in anger. I’m yelling at her, and telling her how we just spent the last 30 minutes terrified because we didn’t know where she was. And I’m stalking off silent, because I can’t think straight, and Ollie turns up in the car.¬† We get in, and he goes “what happened?”¬† And I burst into a fit of tears and just hollared about how she said 6pm, and NO other parents were around and I thought something terrible had happened to her.

We got home and the poor wee soul disappears into her room. I’d been so mad that I’d told her she wasn’t going to any more of those things. She’s the model, she -has- to go.¬† It seemed right in my angryrelieved mind at the time.¬† And I’m still crying, and I know I’m stupid and wrong, so I go off to find her and sit beside her on her bed, and she goes “I’m sorry!”¬† And I went “No, I’M sorry! I was so scared, and I should never have gotten angry at you like that” And we just sort of cuddled and snerveled and comforted each other, and afterwards, she was perfectly content and fine, and I’m writing this, still misty eyed over it all.¬† God, internet.¬† I really thought something terrible had happened. That all the kids parents had been and gone and that she’d been taken by someone.

I kept thinking, how the hell will I survive when she goes out with her friends?¬† I’m usually the okay one.¬† It’s Ollie who panicks.¬† But no..this time it was me. I kept telling her that I didn’t know what I’d do if I lost her. And I really don’t. Just the mere thought of it is crippling.¬† It’s like, when she was finally there in front of me, I’d been punched in the stomach. I couldn’t think rationally. I wasn’t “OMG YOU’RE OKAY!”¬† I was “YOU SAID SIX O’CLOCK! YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO ONE OF THOSE AGAIN!”¬† What happens, I wonder…in your brain to make you have that reaction. I don’t know, but I really hope I don’t feel it again. Tomorrow she’s going out to a Guide’s friend’s night with a friend, and then Wednesday she has another rehearsal for this show they’re doing. It’s not that I don’t trust her at all, I definitely do, she’s the kid I know will always do what I tell her to, even though lately it’s getting a little whiny and recalcitrant. She has a good head on her shoulders, but she’s still just a child, and she would be so easily overcome. You know? I just felt so incredibly helpless.¬† And you know what? It really didn’t help that I couldn’t call or text her.

I never thought I’d be the sort of person to miss a cellphone, but man, I really, really do.

No Bravery

We went out today, and it was so lovely. We bought hot chips and L&P and we sat in the Mona Vale park – which is where we had our wedding photos taken, and it was lovely. Then Ollie took all our stuff back to the car, and we wandered around the park in the sun. It was the most beautiful day, everything was gorgeous, blossoms are just starting to come out on the trees and it gives me such hope for Spring.¬† Just one more month to go! Of course, the first month of Spring usually sees us getting snow, but that’s okay, because summer is never far behind that fresh spring snow.

And then we get back to the car….

The passenger side window is smashed and yeah, you guessed it, my bag and Siobhan’s are gone.¬† It’s the first time I have ever left it in the car. Murphy’s Law, right? Whatever it is, I’m furious and extremely upset.¬† We both lost our cellphones and our wallets.¬† There was nothing in them that was worth stealing. My phone was old and the battery is no good anymore, and Siobhan’s?¬† She got it for her birthday last year, her bag she bought herself in Australia last Christmas.¬† She is devastated.¬† It’s just so awful.¬† I lost our birth certificates, my credit cards, my drivers license, and I don’t know what else was in there, but it’s all gone. That bag cost $300. I really fucking loved it.¬† Now I have no bag, no cellphone, and I can’t drive myself anywhere until I get a replacement license.

It’s so stupid, and so completely cowardly.¬† Breaking into a car and stealing from a 12 year old girl. They got NOTHING. Nothing worth selling. Nothing worth keeping, and we lose everything.¬† I can’t tell you how over people I am. I’ve had it. They’re all cowards and assholes.¬† I just don’t understand it at all.¬† Just when you think you have them figured out, the fuck you again. You just can’t do anything. You can’t be online, you can’t be offline…where does the line get drawn? Ollie said we’re lucky it hasn’t happened before, because it’s a daily occurance in this city. Cars are broken into all the time.¬† We were robbed once too, they took $3000 worth of CD’s and nothing else, I mean, that’s lucky compared to what other people have happen. One of my friends was robbled recently and they took everything, you know? It’s just insane.

I’m over it.¬† I’m going out tonight and I’m probably going to end up a little drunker than I should. But I don’t even care.¬† I have to have Ollie drive me there because we can’t leave the car on the street with a broken window, plus…no license. So not pleased internet.¬† I hope those little fuckers die a miserable death. I do. Stealing from a fucking child.¬† That’s just sick.

When Hatred With His Package Comes…

you forbid delivery.

Oh internet! I have neglected you terribly! It’s true, and I feel utterly ashamed of myself. How could I do such a thing? I know it’s shameful and disobedient of me.¬† In fact, my husband is so frustrated, he blogged for me yesterday! How about that? I think I might employ him to be a regular. What do you think? Even if he doesn’t write much, he’ll give you photos. You should all leave encouraging words of praise – unless you don’t want to see pictures. Which is fine with me, because you know I’m not going to show them, right?

Anyway, there’s a few reasons I’ve been neglecting you, but the biggest reason is – I have an internet stalker.¬† He’s not my first internet stalker, so you don’t have to congratulate me just yet.¬† He is one in a long line of stalkers that I have suffered since I started being an internet chat freak.¬† It’s true, I won’t deny that I spend time in chatrooms.¬† That’s where I roleplay you see.¬† But well before that, there was just “the chat” and I never really considered the fact that people would actually go to the trouble of following you all around the internet for whatever perverse reason they might have, not just men either, I’ve had my share of scary internet women stalkers too. Actually, to be fair, I have two right now. One I have stealthily avoided for over a month by simply changing the way my name shows up on the chatlist.¬† I KNOW!¬† It really was that easy.

This particular one though, I thought I’d shaken months ago, and it turns out, I just haven’t. I considered him a very good friend, and friendships sometimes become obsessive and yucky. Did you know that? Oh yes, I used all the lines I always use when I make friends with men…the whole “I’m married and happy” never works you know. “Oh!” they say “I just want to be friends.” Yeah right. I can’t tell you how many men online and offline have said that and then almost begged for more. “I can’t have male friends” I tell them. “That’s just silly.” They laugh. “We’re just friends!” But I think the real problem is, I’m me. My dad always says to me “Kelly,” he says…”You can’t go through life being SO DAMN HONEST!” And I know this, because every time I be honest, I’m messed with. The problem is, I can’t stop being honest. I can’t not talk about everything under the sun, and apparently, talking about anything to do with sexuality with a man who is not your husband, is a come on.¬† Did you know that? I didn’t.¬† Yes I know, I’m 32 and I should know better…but it’s what interests me, I like to talk about sexuality, I like to hear people’s stories. I find it very, very interesting. Anyway, when he started trying to turn the rest of our friends against me, I knew it was well overdue of me to cut him out of my life.¬† You’d be surprised, at how -not- simple this is. Particularly, if like me, you haunt almost every networking site available.¬† The internet becomes, a very small place.¬† You let them see something, and they eventually find everything.

So that’s the reason I’ve been neglecting this blog. I just haven’t really had the heart to write anything that might be read, considering I’ve found him lurking in all manner of my haunts.¬† For what purpose you might ask?¬† I’d like to know that myself. What do you think stalkers want to find out?¬† Whether you’re talking about them?¬† Well tonight I am. Tonight I’m talking about my stalker.¬† That’s what he is…and I don’t care to hide that fact anymore.¬† Every time I tell myself I’m no longer a victim, I start acting like one again. It’s ridiculous and stupid of me. I know this, and I’m finished. I am back! I am! Be joyous with me!¬† I should have a wine.¬† Maybe I will tomorrow.

Ollie found a way to block his IP, so he can’t read my blog anymore.¬† However, I am almost 100% certain he will send one of his lackies in to see whether or not I am *gasp* writing about him.¬† This is the first, and only public post I’ll make. It needed to be said. And now, I’m going to do what he can’t seem to do. I’m moving on! Again! For months, I’ve barely thought about him, and now there he is, lurking in the shadows like some filthy little pondscum, desperate to see what we’re all doing in his absence.¬† Hoping we’re sad and missing him. Well we’re not.

And I’m back! No more hiding in the shadows!¬† I’ve missed you all, and OH MY GOD! I hope you haven’t all stopped reading! I’ll make it up to you, I swear.¬† I’ll even let Ollie post pictures.¬† Now -that’s- love.

Just Dance…

Sunday night was the show. The one I’ve been stressing over for weeks now, because I have had so little time to prepare. I was terrified, I really was.¬† The worst part was, I was so certain the show started at 7.30pm. That’s the time ALL the shows have started, ever since I’ve been doing them. Apparently, Sunday shows start at 6pm. So we’re getting ready and I’m doing the kids makeup and my own, and it’s 6pm and I’m all “we should go now so we have lots of time to practice and feel okay about things.¬† And so the kids are in the car, and I’m making sure I have everything I need and I get a text.¬† It says: “are you going to be here soon? The show starts in 5 minutes.”

Can you even begin for a moment, to comprehend the terror that ripped through me? “OMG OMG OMG!!!” I’m screaming, and checking the ticket and lo and behold there is it. UNDERLINED! 6pm. So we rush out the door, and I’m almost hyperventilating in fear.¬† The kids are supposed to be on second, and they’re half the group.¬† It was terrifying. I couldn’t calm myself down. I worked myself up into a complete state and couldn’t come back down from it.¬† We got there at about 6.20pm and they’d reorganised the program around us. I felt awful. Really awful!¬† It was just..I can’t even explain it actually.¬† But it was the worst feeling in the world.

Anyway, I danced, and I was pretty good. I certainly wasn’t great, by the time we were on, I’d calmed down a lot, but I was still worked up and horrified at myself.¬† I missed a little part, and then spent the rest of the night getting drunk and recovering from the horror that was this show.¬† I was very disappointed in myself, because I’d worked extremely hard, and then I messed up.¬† Anywayyyyy, I know you’re all hoping for photos! So here are a few!¬† Ollie had the camera settings wrong for the girls, so there weren’t any good ones. But they danced again today, and I’ll show you those a little later!

Here I am then! In all my Christmas glory!

Look at her gorgeous hair!

And Aleeya’s stunning eyes. <3

Joy Ride

Do you remember when shopping trolleys used to be fun? Were they ever fun for you? I have fond memories of them, drunken evenings when you were too tired from dancing all night to walk home, so the boys you were with would help you get into a shopping trolley and wheel you at breakneck speeds through the city parks.¬† Maybe that’s just what happened to me, since I have always been small enough to fit inside one. I don’t recall ever having a falling out incident either. Once I was taken half way around Rocks Road in one, there was lots of laughter and singing involved. Man, those really were fun days.

Now shopping trolleys hold a morbid sense of horror for me.¬† As soon as I pull into the supermarket, my heart drops and I feel like I’m walking towards impending doom.¬† I try very hard, internet, to avoid the pension days, because old people – don’t get me wrong, I love old people, they have great stories – but old people in supermarkets is something to be avoided at all costs.¬† Pension day, has always seemed to be Tuesday.¬† So I’m doing my groceries lately, on Wednesday’s, because even though I’m up and out of the house early on a Thursday, Thursday’s, from what I recall are dole day (unemployment benefit) and the unemployed are equally as frustrating to meet, in a supermarket.

I hate supermarket shopping with a vengence. I remember being a bright eyed new mother at the age of 20, and going shopping was so fun. We’d buckle Siobhan into the baby seat and we’d have all these choices. We could buy, whatever we wanted! On an extremely tight budget of course – so really we couldn’t at all, but it sure seemed like it, while we put all this stuff that we’d chosen ourselves into the trolley and felt grown up and awesome. I can’t tell you how many awful eating mistakes I made in those early days. Like the time we bought a green curry paste, and I cooked a beautiful chicken curry.¬† I am not an instruction reader, by the way. I get no pleasure out of instruction manuals. I tear things open and toss aside instructions, because I am awesome, and I know how everything works!¬† Actually, I hand them to Ollie who meticulously reads them and then tells me how to work it, while I huff impatiently at him and say “yesyesyes!” while pushing buttons and shrieking when it doesn’t work. You love me a little for it, I know you do.¬† Anyway, this green curry paste was the ultimate ingredient, and I dutifully added the entire contents of this little jar into our chicken.

Not even the dog we had at the time would go near it.¬† It wasn’t just eye watering, internet…it almost turned us blind. I read the instructions on the back of jars now. That is one thing I have conceded to do.¬† And so we blissfully went around the supermarket and it was so fun.¬† Then we had Aleeya, and having two children in the shopping trolley just wasn’t quite as fun.¬† It started to lose its novelty very quickly.¬† Particularly when they were both walking.¬† Supermarkets, do not please me. They always hold awful surprises, or tempting specials, or both. And I do not enjoy watching the price go up to $170 just because I really wanted that bar of chocolate and those biscuits (cookies) that were on special, and maybe I needed those really expensive razor blades too. It’s not nice!¬† I don’t like it! Food, should not cost as much as it does.

Anyway, shopping with children is always an experience.¬† I remember this one time, Siobhan was in kindergarten, and it was just Aleeya and I.¬† I’d gone out for coffee with Lou, and we stopped in the supermarket to buy, I don’t know, bread and milk probably. That’s almost an every day purchase in this house, and it certainly was in hers with six kids to feed. So we’re talking, like we always do, completely engrossed in each other. Aleeya’s there at my side, she would have been two at the time. She was always shy and clingy. I never had any reason to think she wouldn’t be at my side, and whenever she wasn’t, she roared. I’m not lying, she actually would roar.¬† I’m paying for my food and looking at Lou, and I turned around and my daughter is gone.

She’s two years old, and she’s gone. I have this strange panic reaction.¬† What happens is, time slows down and so does my heart. I become, almost zen like.¬† It’s really weird…it’s like, nothing is wrong, and all I have to do, is consider the situation carefully, and the answer will come.¬† So the world is slowing down, and the blood is running out of my face and I’m trying to rationalise this.¬† She’s two, how far could she have gone? – This supermarket by the way, is in the busiest mall in Christchurch and yes, my thoughts were most definitely “she’s been kidnapped!!!”¬† But really, I -have- to be rational, and interestingly I usually am when I’m terrified so I’m thinking, how far could she have gone? So I’m listening for the telltale sign of her roaring, and I hear…nothing.¬† Absolutely nothing.¬† This is when I start to get little spots behind my eyes which are telling me that if I don’t resolve this situation and soon, I’m going to pass out. I went all through the supermarket again, and then up to the information area, and I’m trying to remember what my two year old daughter was wearing this morning when she got dressed, and I just couldn’t. I drew an utter blank. And just as I’m about to cry, I turned around and I saw this tiny little girl, sprinting back to me. All amazingly large greenblue eyes and white faced terror.

I’m almost crying just remembering it!¬† She’d followed out a woman with a shopping trolley after having had a staring contest with a little girl in one just opposite us.¬† The woman in front of us in the checkout line moved off, and Aleeya followed blindly.¬† I dropped to my knees and was just about to ask her where she went, when she burst out in the most amazing lung explosive roar I’ve ever heard in my life. She flung herself into my arms and I just can’t explain the incredible sense of terror and relief I felt at hearing her scream like that.¬† It was…there are no words that can describe something like that.

So, my experience with supermarkets, is not a fun one. I no longer look at shopping trolleys and feel a little rush of adrenaline because maybe next week that one is the one I’m going to be screaming through the city in, now it’s more like I’m choosing the vessel in which a little part of me will die once I get past this 90 year old couple, who in other circumstances I would find completely adorable, sighing and wishing that they could just have a little bit of respect for those of us who don’t walk at the pace of a snail and LET ME PAST!!!! And yet, as much as I complain about doing it, I find having your groceries delivered even more annoying. There is just something about filling that trolley with food and bringing it into the house that makes the entire experience of being stuck behind daydreaming men who have their trolley’s sideways in the aisle and are now contemplating -very seriously- what flavour chips they want ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE AISLE!!!!¬† Hello? What are you thinking??? – Worthwhile. Actually, I’m lying. Maybe I’m just a sucker for punishment.

What, internet, is wrong with people in supermarkets? Do they instantly walk in there and their IQ’s just drop 20 points instantly? Do supermarkets make us stupid? I think they do. I think, people walk in there, and they switch off. Even those people like me, who are straight in and out shoppers.¬† We want to go around the supermarket as quickly as possible and get out again, and yet, I know my eyes glaze over and I go into this little place in my head..which saves me from the idiots and the old people who have to pick up every.single.packet of meat before the realise that maybe their lack of teeth can’t actually process that meat anyway, so they go back to the mince (ground beef) section and pick up every packet of meat there, with their trolleys stretched across the entire meat section while you lament the fact that all you want is a piece of stewing steak which you cannot reach even though you can see it right there…*sigh*

We’ve already discussed my pain when it comes to high shelves. I will say it again though, if you supermarket people put something out of my reach? I will climb your shelves. I am not above using those shelves as a ladder! Not all of us are amazons!!!¬† And it’s always shampoo.¬† What, are children likely to drink the shampoo so you must put it on the highest shelf IN THE WORLD? It’s not right. Not even when there are lovely University boys who I can go “uhm. Do you think you could just reach that for me?”¬† You just know they’re talking about the cute wee lady they had to fetch something down for. I’ve been climbing shelves all my life. Right Michelle?¬† I have to do it in my own house.¬† I do! Ollie is a cruel man.¬† He buys chips and then puts them in the top shelves so I can’t reach them. I KNOW!¬† What sort of husband does that, right?¬† I think he does it, just to watch me climb up on the bench like a four year old.

There needs to be a supermarket shopping ettiquette written up I feel. Something that says that all people over the age of 65 must shop on a certain day, all single men with a penchant for chips on another day, and all the fast shoppers get a day for themselves. No more of this two neighbours or old friends catching up rubbish and talking to each other while blocking the entire aisle business. No more taking 5 hours to choose which packet of meat is the best bargain when they’re ALL THE SAME! No more putting things in high places so short girls have to climb shelves or ask a stranger to fetch them something like they’re small children again. None of that! I don’t want any of it.¬† And please, please give me a trolley that does not have a mind of its own.¬† I’m not 18 anymore, and I do not find the ones that only go left and mean you spin around in wild circles fun.¬† I do not!¬† I want a trolley with a little self respect. One that goes in a straight line when I want it too, and turns the damn corner when it’s supposed to!

Is that really, too much to ask?  Is it?!?!