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Archive for the ‘The Girl’ Category

Protected: Kung Fu Journey

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-1-2012

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Protected: On My Birthday…. What Do You Know !

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-1-2012

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Protected: My Birthday Dinner

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-24-2012

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All My Children

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-24-2012

Yesterday was just another day. I watched ( stalked ) The Baby on FB, kept my Skype open and basically, didn’t do much. I am getting very good at this, doing nothing.

I was just settling down to read for a bit when I heard that squirt from Skype : it was The Baby, she had a fight with The Father, could she come and see me ?

Sure, I said. Tell me about the fight. Well, it was a fight with The Girl. Whatever, I am always here for you.

She turned up at about 4, 4.30. She quickly went into The Big City ( there had been a small snag in her plans) and returned about half way through Dr. Phil.

Closing my eyes ( I am a good sport) she eventually brought a small apple pie with 5 candles to the table, singing *Happy Birthday * to me, and then put decorations up in my studio of my own.

Happy Birthday To Me !

 

Festive ! ( CED: we look FAT !)

We ate some pie, ordered some Chinese and then sat together for a few hours catching up. She showed me her latest grades from school and her latest Math homework and I am very proud of her indeed.

Then she told me about how she had managed to get here. She went to the Principle’s office and explained that she wanted the last two hours of school off so that she could buy a present for her Mother. She got the * we don’t allow this* routine, and broke into tears, not like The Baby at all. The Principle was horrified, and let her go ( come ?).

Baby then called The Girl ( should we start calling her * The Warden * ?), to let her know where she would be.

Maybe The Warden has problems with me, but she could not stop Baby from seeing me. She did threaten to kick Baby out of the room that they share (my old room of my own) if Baby came to see me, but Baby thought this through very logically: Baby has the only bed at home, much easier if The Girl moves out. End of story. That was- of course- the short version. I am positive that many *bleeps* were exchanged during this exchange: know my girls. Pig headed and potty mouthed.

I did contact The Father, to be sure that he knew where Baby was. He did. But one can never be sure if the message was passed along and I didn’t want him to worry about Baby.

It was a lovely and touching gesture on her part, more meaningful than a gallon of Chanel.

I walked her to the bus station and she helped me with my garbage.

When I walked home, I passed one of the bouncers at the pot shop.

We chatted for a moment- I will tell you when I spoke English.

He asked me if I had had a nice walk, and I said that I just took my youngest daughter to the bus station, beautiful girl, I said.

He said that he had noticed us because of the two bags of garbage and that Baby was too young for him.

I said, yup, she is ( echt waar), she is 12.

He looked stunned, really ? ( echt waar ) ?

( English) Yes, I was there. And then I hobbled on.

At midnight, Baby was up, to be the first to officially wish me Happy Birthday.

As to CED, I simply said, look, we weigh between 44 and 46 kilos at 5’2. If you choose Omar  The Tent Maker as your couturier, we are going to look fat. End of story.

On to my birthday dinner- a cheapo Italian, but we have been going there for 23 years, since I received my first pay check, and everyone can always find something they like to eat there.

CED and I both really want a prime cut of beef. Nothing Italian about that !

 

Protected: Sworn Into Silence…

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-20-2012

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Protected: BMW’s And Jewlery

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-10-2012

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Protected: Overheard II

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jun-25-2012

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The New Ijsmeisje

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-11-2011

The Girl just learned that starting in April, she will one of two Ijsmeisjes in Town.  This means that she is going to be The Ice Cream Girl.

This is something new and different in Town. She will be parked here and there, selling ice cream to tourists.

It pays well. She is very happy and we are very pleased and proud of her.

Sitting at the kitchen table, when she told me about it, I said, oh, that is wonderful, and asked for some details about the interview ( unfortunately, Julie is the other Ijsmeisje, but perhaps they will come to terms with their rather turbulent past, for they used to be the dearest of friends…I ramble).

And then I said, oh, I guess that you will meet a lot of new people ( read : guys). She agreed. And, I said, a fair share of dirty old men. She agreed.

The place that hired the Ijsmeisjes obviously wanted two young, cute and sexy girls. Not going for the wholesome milkmaid type at all.

Bravo, Girl.

WordPad

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-7-2011

I had checked out all of the spelling for a bunch of words and saved them on * Kladblok* . I think that that is Wordpad.

You can play a game and guess what I shall write, but I can indeed spell some things. And I may not use any of the following words :

episiotomy

ho chi minh trail

Stirrups.

Here we go.

The other day was The Girl’s 18th birthday, and that fool episitomy scar was bothering me.  I really thought- and still do- that this was a case of timing. For I received the mark of Zorro ( so I have heard) 18 years ago, delivering a 5 pound baby. In a closet. By a guy named Harry. He was panicking, we were all panicking. Why wasn’t he Dr. Harry ?

I asked Harry, who could have been a janitor for all I know and for all that I cared at the time, how many stitches do I have ? He refused to tell me.  In fact, no, not in fact, for this could not have happened, he asked me why I wanted to know ? Was this some sortof trophy thing ? Who has the most stitches ? This was definitely implied.

So, I do not know how many stitches that I had to tolerate.  But I did go on to birth more babies and try to conduct chit chat in the  stirrups. I changed Doctors. A lot. If they hated Americans, I was out of there. ( That was a mistake. I should have tolerated him, but you simply can not do that. Not when you are in the stirrups)

And every new Doctor would go, sheesh, what happened to you ? And in my little Minnie Mouse voice, I would say, I have no idea. I have never seen this scar.  I can feel parts of it, when it bothers me, but it seems to be a  Ho Chi Mingh trail, around, well, my privates.

Let’s go back to Harry. Refresh the memory :

I asked Harry, who could have been a janitor for all I know and for all that I cared at the time, how many stitches do I have ? He refused to tell me.  In fact, no, not in fact, for this could not have happened, he asked me why I wanted to know ? Was this some sortof trophy thing ? Who has the most stitches ? This was definitely implied.

Now, I find myself wondering how many men have never, ever in their life pulled out a ruler or a measuring tape, and well, measured themselves.
I think only the liars.

And he would not tell me how many stitches I had to tolerate.

A Soap Opera In Brabant II

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-2-2011

( Background :  The other day, I was up here, trying to do something, and The Girl was screaming and yelling : she had a virus on her laptop. I cannot run downstairs, but I did my very best . When I got to the kitchen I said, do not touch that dial. Do not panic. Sit back and breathe. Do not ever push these buttons that promise to make this go away. And I knew that she had been hi-jacked. I have solved this twice before, but, I am sick and I do not know her computer at all. Laptop. I ask her, where is your virus security, where is Avast ?  Bambi is blinking those eyelashes at me. I go through C, program files, and she does not have Avast. I have had my own rules in this house for many years : if anyone wants me to even attempt to fix their computer or laptop, they have to use Avast, they have to use Firefox, Google is their homepage and SpyBot has to be on their computer. These are tools that I can work with. And they are all free. Do not pay for these things. She has been using IE. Fine, it is all fixed now, but the point of this intro is computers and panic )

Cast :

The Mother, wasting away ( you know this story-)

The Baby

Scene :

The Baby and The Mother are sitting across the table from each other, in the kitchen.It is lunch time. Apple turnover day.  The Baby is on The Mother’s laptop ( which The Mother never uses). The Mother is probably trying to do a Sudoku.

The Mother looks up- The Baby is crying, silently. As she sits behind that laptop.

The Mother : What is wrong ?

The Baby : Nothing. Leave it.

————————————————-

This takes an enormous amount of time. Baby has an Internet boyfriend. Theodore. I know this. I have seen his photo. He is welcome to come here,  with his parents, we can go to a Mickey D’s, with all of the parents, and they can meet each other, in real life. The parents will all sit far, far away. I cannot go against this. For my children have all met internet friends of mine. This is not a cast of thousands, but you can meet fine people via the internet. But she is 11, we have to have rules. He looks legit. Not like some lech from Belgium.

But she is getting caught in Girl Games. In her little group. They all want him. I have no idea why, but I am not 11, am I? For the last week, Baby has been telling me that Lucy is after Theodore. And so, I am sitting across from the kitchen table, hacking and blowing my nose, and trying to figure out what is going on with her.

And I tell her just what I told The Girl : do not panic.  Do not do anything when you are upset. Sit back, wait a few hours. She is getting this she said, she said business, from a group of cats.

I told her to splash cold water on her face and not to touch that keyboard until she was calm.

This worked.