This post is written in the spirit of Pip's post here. It is about who I am and how I live. The good and the bad. I will try and remember the 'C's' Pip talked about. I will try to be casually confident about having a conversation with the blogging community.
So, here goes... A week in numbers...
4 :: number of nights I went away for.
2 :: number of nights that I slept properly.
2 :: number of disasters.
1 :: wonderful store manager who found my phone and kept it safe until I tracked it down. (My whole LIFE is on my phone - I very nearly kissed her!)
1 :: number of all-night parties held in my house in my absence.
1 :: number of hideous teenage sons.
Untold :: number of lies told to Grandparents who were left with the responsibility of looking after above mentioned monster.
Lost count :: number of times my washing machine has been on since my return.
1 :: fridge emptied of beer/cider/wine/even a couple of cans of Guinness for my steak and ale pies, for goodness sake.
2 :: shelves of cupboard emptied of other random alcohol - mainly liqueurs, plus the vodka, gin and rum. All there for culinary purposes, of course...
13 :: number of teenagers allegedly running rampage in my garden all night.
4 :: number of bin bags in dustbin.
10 :: out of 10 on a scale of how bad my house smelt of vomit and booze on my return.
6 :: hours spent cleaning (not me, I might add)
10 :: on a scale of 1 is not very sticky and 10 is unbelievably sticky where I actually need to wash my flip-flops now, stickiness of floor.
100 :: % glad I don't have carpet downstairs.
1 :: kitchen table ruined with something nasty spilt over it that has taken the varnish off.
3 :: weeks left of summer holidays.
3 :: weeks of being grounded for above mentioned monster.
0 :: amount of mobile phones and Internet connection for foreseeable future for same monster.
Do you get the picture? The worst of it is that it was plastered all over Facebook for a repeat performance the following night which resulted in being rumbled, collected by his father, involving the police and me on an enforced lock-down in Warwickshire to avoid murder.
Happy days and the joys of parenting.
Eeek! Sounds like you need a gin and tonic (did they leave any gin?)
ReplyDeletexox
almost makes me glad i dont have children!
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Lyn
xxx
oh dear oh dear oh dear.
ReplyDeletexxx
All I can say is I feel for you having been there. Somehow it is the residual stickiness that makes it all seem so awful. They do grow up and make you proud of them again!
ReplyDeleteoh dear - NOT what you need to happen when you go away xoxoxo
ReplyDeletehang in there x
On the positive side, it could have been worse. At least the house was still standing. Wasn't it?
ReplyDeleteTeenaged boys are not known for their good judgment! Let's hope the next three weeks hurt more than his head did the next day.
ReplyDeleteCan I give you another number? It is a very big one and it is the number of friends that you have out here who are feeling your pain and wishing that they could be with you to make you a cup of tea and a hug.
ReplyDeleteMy son will be a teenager next year. I can hardly wait!!! x
ReplyDeleteThere's so much I dread about the next 10 years or so. Hugs.
ReplyDeleteOh it's rather terrifying, my son turned 11 last week, the teenage years aren't so very far away. Wishing you peace and calm for the rest of the holidays.
ReplyDeleteYikes! That sounds unpleasant! Hope the next three weeks pass smoothly! Lucy x
ReplyDeleteAaack. Not at all what you want to come home to. Will be thinking of you over the next three weeks. And do email anytime you need a chat or even just to vent! K x
ReplyDeleteOMG!!! Tracy you poor thing! sounds like you need "10:: number of gin and tonics required to make you forget"
ReplyDeleteerr... isn't my son the same age as yours? oh dear .. oh very very dear.
Hugs!!
xx
Oh good grief. Can some sewing help to calm the nerves?
ReplyDeleteoh, the wonders of parenthood! This too shall pass.
ReplyDeleteOh Christ. That's a good contraceptive if ever I heard one!
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