Thursday, 3 April 2014

Vomit, vomit everywhere and... well, let's face it we could all do with a drink after THAT

When Ray and I talk about how tired we are/how broke we are/how stressed we are/how busy we are/how neither of us has time to have a bowel movement without having to suck it back in when we hear a cry and 'save it for later,' we tend to reassure ourselves with the words 'well, it is a bit extreme at the moment because ____' (fill in blank: Joe is ill, Lily is ill, Evie is ill, Tim is ill, we are ill, the clocks went forward/back, it's winter, we're weaning Evie, we're potty training twins... I could go on).  The implication of that is 'soon all will be well'...

It occurred to me this evening that perhaps it's ALWAYS going to be an extreme situation in our household.  Yes, Extreme Parenting, a new no-holds-barred sport for the suicidal...

So either we accept that something will always have to give (we'll be tired, the house will be dirty, we'll always be constipated and windy, etc) or find a way to make things better.  Watch this space...  No, seriously, watch this space, the kids are in bed and I'm going to sit on the loo uninterrupted...

Our current "extreme" is poor Joe, who has some sort of vomiting thing poor lad.  I have every sympathy with the little mite... except that somehow his vomit seems only to inexplicably flow when mummy picks him up... Hot sick down the back is not the refreshing treat you might imagine... It seems I am destined to be covered in either peepee, poopoo or something that resembles coleslaw... Sexy.

I can't leave without mentioning my April Fool's joke on poor Ray.  Basically, his aunt died a few weeks ago.  She was 92 lived in Austria - he'd only ever seen her twice, although they did write.  So he was sad, but not devastated.
We were told that we'd hear from her solicitor, and joked that we might inherit some heirloom or other...  Which set my evil little brain whirring...
On 1st April, Ray received the following letter:

Mr Raymond Paul Harvey Esq.


28 Marz 2014

Dear Mr Raymond Paul Harvey
Please accept my kindest condolences for the sad passing of your revered Aunt, NAME
I am sorry of the impersonal note of this letter, but I have yet to locate an English translator for the official telephone conversation.
However, it is my duty as appointed Executor to the Trust of your Aunt to pass on news of a small inheritance.  I am afraid you may find it a little unusual – I too find it a little out of the ordianry, but the wishes of the deceased must always be adhered to.
Your Aunt has asked that you recieve the attached paragraph from her Will and Testament, dated July of last year (2013), but I will outline your inheritance here.
Your Aunt informed me that you have a much younger wife.  To this end, kind sir, your Aunt found it fit to leave such garments in her possession to your „beautiful“ wife with whom, in her words she „felt a connection“ despite having not met Mrs Gillian Jane Harvey. 

You were unaware, I am told, that your Aunt was, for a brief moment, active in the Theatre of Austria – and was quite well known in her 20s for her dancing.  To this end, she has several costume garments of (I am told) fine quality, she felt that Mrs Gillian Jane Harvey was the best placed to receive and enjoy.
Again, sir, I am sorry for your loss.

We will contact via telephone with a translator to sort out safe transit of your inheritance.
My deepest sympathies once again, sir, for your sad loss.


F.O.(o) Law (Apr)

Attached Page: 



And to my DEAREST NEPHEW RAYMOND PAUL HARVEY I hereby bequeath my garments to his WIFE GILLIAN JANE HARVEY of said address, specifically:

1.      Neglige in silk, hand-stitched with pearl detail.

2.      Four panties in lace, hand-stitched with pearl detail.

3.      Nightdress (satin) in fine red material, with logo DS.


(p.3 PARA 14)
PS - all typos and weird wordings are deliberate - I wanted to sound as if English wasn't my first language.  I also printed it on to some mocked up 'headed paper' and put it in a franked envelope.
Anyway, the good news (for me anyway) was that he was completely taken in.  The unfortunate news was that, because he generously let me go for a nap and didn't wake me at the specified time, the joke went on a LOT longer than it was meant to.
He rang his sister.  He rang his brother. 
He then had to sheepishly ring them back...  Poor bugger.
His words to me?  "If you spent as much time cleaning the house as you did on this..."
I wasn't sure he'd fall for it.  Mind you, things are pretty "extreme" here at the moment... 

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