Clipboards and Cat Shit

Ok, after yesterdays soul bearing I'm in dire need of a little light relief :)

Posting the Saturday is Caption Day photo as a second post (as if one a day for a month isn't enough!) helped a little and thank you to those who came up with some great captions :)

But I need more.

I am also in shock having realised that at the tender age of 13 Master Mac is suddenly taller than me.

I'm 6ft FFS!!!  

I am seriously scared where this may end.  I seem to have produced monster children!

Big D is 6ft 3.

Master Mac already takes a size 11 shoe (Isn't that a 50 or something in continental sizing??)

Miss Mac 'borrows' MY clothes!

Anyway ...

I don't seem to have quite regained my funny yet so I thought (and I hope you don't mind) that I would rewind an old post from happier times that still makes me smile when I think about it.

Having said that.  Today is a beautiful day in Somerset - the sky is blue - the air is cold and crisp and Gus and I took an early morning walk by the river.

My washing is blowing on the line and I've also spent the last half hour cleaning my hob with a toothbrush.

I know, self proclaimed domestic slut that I am I have to confess that there really is nothing I like better than getting in all those nooks and crannies from time to time ;)

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And so - onto Clipboards and Cat Shit :)

A couple of days ago I received a letter that surprised and worried me a little.  It was from Master Macs School and it said that they were concerned about his attendance record and would like to see me.

I rang the school immediately to see if there had been a mistake.  No, they assured me, no mistake.  It seems that with his recent accident and resulting appointments at the hospital Master Mac had hit a trigger point.

The visit was arranged for Friday morning at 10am.

After waving the children off to school I looked around. 

It’s been a while since anyone other than friends and family had been to the house and having someone who is basically there to question your capabilities as a parent sure makes you look at things with fresh eyes.

A quick wiz round with the hoover, wash the breakfast dishes, clean out the litter tray, shower and dress.

That WAS the plan!

Out came Henry, a flick of the switch and …..  WHOOOMPH!!

A great cloud of dust and dog hair, tissue and fluff erupted like a mini volcano covering me and half the room as effectively as Vesuvius buried Pompeii.

FUUUUUCK!!!

Complete panic, the damn woman was due in 45 minutes, my house was filthy, I had 5 cats running around, a dog shedding yet more hair and a full litter tray.

 I was also braless in a baggy tee-shirt and cropped legging.  I didn’t have a clue what to tackle first.

A quick slug of Merlot from the open bottle on the kitchen counter (yes, it was only 9:00am but needs must!) and I assessed the damage.

Ok, litter tray first.  As ever, a queue of full bladdered kitties waited for the moment the clean litter hit the tray before parking their furry bottoms in the gravel to fill it up again.

Out to the wheelie bin at the front of the house only to find that it was, as always FULL!! 

The bin wasn’t  due to be emptied until Monday and only a foolish person leave a bag of used cat litter around for all the other cats in the neighbourhood to rip apart and spread the content (if you are lucky they might even leave an offering of their own!)  So, back in, wellies on and into the bin I hopped. Jumping up and down trying to compact a weeks worth of cat shit and other household rubbish

HELLO, YOOHOO, Mrs Mac???  I swung around to see a woman holding a clipboard tottering towards me in the most extraordinary pair of shoes.  They were those wedge ones with a hole cut out for some bizarre reason, it looked like she was walking in ice skates.  But the main things was,

THE BLOODY WOMAN WAS MORE THAN HALF AN HOUR EARLY!!       

Ok, I thought, if you can wear ice-skates, I can stand in wheelie bins carrying shit and coved in filth.

I decided to brazen it out.  Calmly I climbed out of the bin on to the wall and hopped down onto the pavement.

‘That would be me’ I said with a smile holding out my hand to shake hers.  She recoiled slightly and waved her clipboard in an attempt to suggest that it wasn’t that she was reluctant to clasp my hand but rather that her hands were full.

Coffee?  Tea?  Slug of wine?  I queried with a slight laugh as though I was joking while both of us hungrily eyed the half full bottle.

Perhaps we could just sit down and have a chat she suggested whilst her gaze swept my house and myself with complete horror.

I smiled again, again she recoiled, what was the matter with the woman? I got that she didn’t want to touch me and ok, I guess I could empathise with that, but I was only trying to be friendly for gods sake.

‘You have ……. Errm ……..’ she said gesturing to my face.  What? WHAT???

I dashed into the bathroom to look in the mirror. Oh great!  I’d obviously inhaled a quantity of dust and dirt and my nostrils were ringed with black, I could have cried except that would only have left streaks down my filthy cheeks.  I cleaned up as best I could and feeling very subdued went and sat down.

Things couldn’t and should have really got any worse and in truth, I’m not sure they did but by that time my judgement was shot along with the chance of winning any parenting awards!

Tilly, mum to three kittens has suffered a little from what I call ‘lactating mummy tummy’, it’s not funny and it’s not nice.  It IS noisy and it does stink however so when I saw her purposefully making her way to the tray I knew all was lost.  After much digging about she proceeded to excavate her bowels with a sound like a toddler let loose with a trumpet and sure enough, like a mist creeping over the sea the stench pervaded the room.

The poor lady decided enough was enough and brought our meeting to an end with assurances from me that I would never again let Master Mac be shot in the eye and thus miss valuable schooling.

If only one of us had realised that Florence, the smallest of the kittens who had taken great interest in this ladies footwear had somehow manages to wedge herself through the hole in her damn shoe.

She stood to leave gathering her clipboard and her wits and took a step towards the door. The weight of Florence caused the shoe to shoot off her foot across the room.  Florence yowled, the lady let out a strangled scream and I dissolved into hysterical laughter.

There probably is a moral to this story but to be honest, I haven’t got a clue what it would be and frankly, after I’d finished the bottle of wine I didn’t really care.

(nb Florence was completely unharmed J)