Hmmm I'm a Housewife, Countdown to Family Drama

It was 9.30 last night and I finished putting away all of the clean laundry, I suddenly thought "F*cking hell! I'm a bloody housewife!" Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, I was not doing housework all day into the dead of night and instead I am a 'victim' of my own pisspoor time management. There were invites to sort for the impending christening, blogging to do, a 45 minute bitching session with Nac, amongst other pressing matters... As I listened to the bro explain lengthily about his love of Girls of the Playboy Mansion and "booty clapping" to the boyf, I stopped feeling worried that not going to work is making my brain go soft....

With less than 3 weeks to go until the bambino's christening, it is only a matter of time till I go into meltdown. Sometimes it feels like we're always in the middle of the next big thing. As I visusalise most of our families coming together, (the boyf's, my ma's, and my dads) I hear circus music as this has the possibility of fireworks...explosions even... This is going to be one big crackfest and I'm curious as to what's going to go down.

Will my ma and dad be speaking to each other or will she be scared that he'll show her up like he did at my birthday? Will there be fight for Caribbean or African supremacy? Will there be a dance off? Will the bambino do a poo during the baptism? Who will get pissed out of their head and say something inappropriate? Will the grandmothers be competing? Will my ma be having a hot date? Will the boyf and I be hiding at the back of the room snickering to ourselves at the mayhem of our beloved friends and family? Will there be a fight for the jerk chicken and patties? Cue dramatic music and closing credits.... Hmm I may need a holiday after this christening...or a security detail....

Ooh, before I forget...I am finally getting round to redesigning my blog so if you land here over the next few days and think I'm on crack, it's just a temporary glitch...

Mistaken Identity

The boyf, the bambino, and I were supposed to go to church yesterday as we were planning to meet the reverend to arrange a date for her christening. Naturally we woke up late so we were in a bit of a rush but surprisingly, we were all ready really quickly. Just as we were getting ready to go, we heard the distinctive sound of a squelch. "Oh NO! She's doing a poo!" I wailed. "I'll change her" the boyf said and we quickly got out of all her changing stuff. As he undid her nappy he started making mock choking noises and cleaned her up as we both giggled. He placed a wipe under her bum and just as he was laughingly saying that we need to open the window, we heard another squelch. "Lucky I put that wipe there!"laughed the boyf. Then there was another squelch, and another which went into his hand, and next thing you know nearly 25 minutes had gone by and we'd missed most of the service.

We all hustled into the car and a few minutes later as we approached the church, the boyf starts flinching in agony. He'd complained that his stomach was a bit upset earlier but I thought he was over it. He decided to head back to the house but seconds later he said that he felt OK again and that we should head back to the church. Then he looked stricken again so we went home and he practically sprinted upstairs to the bathroom...

Eventually we went back to the church as we still needed to see the reverend. There were three older black women standing outside the church. "Jaysus! That's 3 more black people I've seen! That must bring my total to about 10 now!" I quipped. The boyf giggled and said "Well it's good to know that there are some black folk around here..." As we approached the church, lots of church goers came out, most of them elderly and they all became excited at seeing the bambino, who scowled at most of them. "Isn't she beautiful!" they cooed and next thing we here one of the women say "Oh yes she is beautiful! She's coming into see her grandmother!" and it was all I could do not to howl with laughter.

As we sat in the church waiting for the reverend I said to the boyf, "They think we're related to one of those black women that we saw outside the church!" and we were doubled up laughing in the pew. "I mean seriously! You know there are not that many black people in this town when people assume you're all related!"

It turns out that one of my friends dropped a major faux pas at my birthday. She was talking to my mum who was sat between my dad and stepmum, when my mum asked "Guess who this is?", looking at my stepmum. "Er..I don't know...Your mum?" she answered. The boyf and I cried with laughter when we heard about this. My friend is terribly embarrassed as she insists that she only said this because my mum looks really young, so she assumed that her 'mother' would also...

Farts, Nana Antics and the Jerk Chicken Cure

Early Saturday morning, I had just gotten back into bed after settling the bambino and snuggled in against the boyf. It wasn't long before I started to drift off and then I was shocked out of my sleep when I felt the boyf let a ripper of a fart on my thigh. I recoiled from the shock of it and the boyf instinctively woke up and grabbed me in a hug laughing and full of apologies. His fart was part of a dream and he'd thought it was OK... "I think I have lost the feeling in my leg..." I said through giggles. "Stop being so dramatic!" We lay there giggling and had just settled down when the bambino let a ripper of her own... Like father...like daughter...

My ma came round on both days at the weekend which was a bit of a shocker as she has been very absorbed with her boyfriend Daddy G over the past while. She has this thing where she literally walks through the door, snatches the bambino and no-one can get near her. Of course the women's final of Wimbledon was on and I had forgotten that not only is my mum a sports maniac but that her particular favourite tennis means that she thinks that she's on the court with them. I have to give it to the bambino for being able to sleep through my mum screaming at the tv "Venus NOOOOOOOO! NOT like THAT! Come on! Hit the f*cking balllllllllllll! Oh shit! I mean...oh...there there" she says stroking the bambino. "Nana didn't mean to swear. Nana loves you...Oh for FUUU...I mean VENUS! Get it together girl! You're throwing it away!!!!!....Oooh sorry NML. You know I get a bit loud...YES! Come on Venus. You can do it! I knew you could do it!" she said punching the air as the bambino shoved her hand down my ma's cleavage in her sleep.

My week has passed by in a blur of pikey TV (the 'occasional' chatshow, Cheaters, and property programmes), sorting out boxes of stuff in the house (we could be unpacking for years at this rate), hosting a coffee afternoon for my NCT (antenatal) group and their babies (gosh I felt very lady like), a spot of shopping (very tiring - I clearly don't have the stamina I used to for buying shoes. Note to self - must try harder), and meeting up with a blog friend (they spotted 7 black people in my neighbourhood - could this be a new board game?!) who was visiting from the US. The bambino didn't hold back on her farting then either...

We also had our gang over on Saturday for our first barbecue and the boyf and the guys did some gardening whilst us girls stayed inside gossiping and bitching about being hungry. We were supposed to be playing poker but the boyf, his bro, and one of the girls couldn't agree on playing it or any other game because they all take their games seriously. When we did eventually decide to play poker, the boyf was online getting the rules and a list of different hands. Honestly, he is something else! I folded three times but after watching the game, I plan to whup some ass next time round as I think I understand it now.

My ma and the bro called round on Sunday and the boyf and the bro continued gardening whilst the bambino sat in her rocker with her sun hat thumping the crap out of her bears. I walked outside and found my ma shaking really badly and in pain. She'd said she wasn't feeling too great but also admitted that she hadn't eaten, but after watching her deteriorate further, we decided that the bro should take her to hospital. The boyf looked on bewildered and concerned and just as they were heading off he said "I was just putting on some chicken which will be done very soon. You sure you don't want to wait for that?" and we all snorted back giggles. Only the boyf would be offering jerk chicken as a cure for what turned out to be a kidney infection!

Just Call Me Daddy/When Mothers Turn Baby Showers into Hot Dates

Yesterday I had a baby shower thrown for me and of course no occasion could be complete without a bit of mama antics. Am I the only person to ever have a baby shower where her mother decided to combine it with having a hot first date?!

I found out about my ma's date G, when she called me up yesterday morning to ask if it was OK (to be fair she'd already invited him) and explained that he was a builder that she'd met through her work. Of course I wasn't going to object but she did mention that the bro was livid with her. I was already distracted so I didn't ask any questions and quickly got off the phone.

The next time I thought of G was when my ma brought him outside to introduce us and I happened to be standing with several friends and the bro.

"This is my daughter, and NML, this is G, friend and builder" she said gaily and I shook his hand and tried not to meet the eyes of my friends for fear of giggling.
"And THIS is my son, the one that said 'Mum, what are you bringing that builder to the party for?'"
The bro froze and his face became blank as he pretended that the two of them didn't exist but it was too late because we were all falling around laughing. I looked at my ma and G and she was grinning like a cheshire cat and he seemed to be loving all of the attention. They were barely out of earshot when the bro hissed at us "Can you believe that they f*cking met when he came to do a building quote yesterday?!" and this time he was laughing too as everybody tried to laugh their way out of shock.

I went into the house a little while later and found my ma chatting very cosily with G. There was a lot of giggling and flirting and I just felt thankful that we were all outside enjoying the BBQ and the sunshine. I raised my eyebrows at the two of them and gave my ma that look that said "Behave yourself" and being the pisstaker that she is, she saw the opportunity to wind me up.

"Say hi to your new daddy!" she said with a giggle.
I looked around me and said "Who?"
"G - How would you feel about him being your new daddy?" she wisecracked, just as the bro walked in and glared at the two of them. "Now!" she said looking at the bro. "Show some respect to your new daddy!" she quipped and B and I started snickering at the showdown that we sensed.
"Only if he lasts a week...." the bro replied drily. B and I were nearly in hysterics laughing when we saw their faces.
"THE BRO! I'M WARNING YOU!" my mum said, now starting to sound slightly nervous.
"What? It's true. Don't worry G, you have a seven day cooling off period!" he quipped and now we were all laughing.

We finally left them and went back to stuffing our faces outside. I relayed the story to the boyf who was clutching himself laughing and of course my ma was now providing the entertainment... The bro left about an hour later without too much drama but admittedly quite a few barbed comments were directed at my ma. After he left, I figured it would all be calm without any more drama....till I went into the house and discovered that there was no sign of them.

I demanded to know her whereabouts and was told that she had gone out the front. I walked out of the house and turned to go out to the street and froze when I saw my ma and G giggling, looking very cosy with their arms around each other. I didn't even think before I spoke. "MA! What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" I exclaimed and we all stood there staring at each other.
"NML!" my ma said and she looked nervous yet mischevious as she started to extricate herself out of his embrace.
"GET.IN.SIDE." I said icily.
"NML!" she said laughing. "It's OK, we're just talking."
"I don't frigging care. And G, would you mind taking your hands off my MOTHER!?!" and stalked back into the house.

After that my ma knew she was on thin ice with me. It wasn't that I wanted to piss on her parade, but having a first date at my baby shower and acting like randy teenagers was NOT what I had in mind. I thought this was when she would have been in the proud grandmother role!

She left an hour or so later with G escorting her. I was polite to him but kept my distance as I felt that he was enjoying the discomfort which isn't exactly a sign of him sticking around and ingratiating himself with her family... "Make sure my ma gets home safely because if she doesn't, I WILL be calling the PO-lice!" I said half jokingly. The boyf said goodbye to him and wisecracked "So should I start calling you Uncle G after today?" and G replied with a big dirty smirk "No....just call me Daddy G!"

In other non randy teenager related activity, the boyf's mum had her friend bless the food before we all started. I was expecting a quick grace but I hadn't realised that she was a reverand and she proceeded to sing and then break into lengthy prayer. Two or three minutes later, I started to break out in a hot flush and clutched at the boyf's hand. Once it was over, everyone dived on the food and Vulture boy said to me "Jeez, I thought she was going to start praying for the #2 bus any minute!" Hilarious!

Prayer Antics and Voodoo Doo Doo

Yesterday the boyf and I were invited to his mums as she wanted to arrange for the baby and I to be prayed for. I don't claim to be the most religious person on earth but I'm not naive enough to not recognise that a bit of positivity and prayer certainly isn't the worst thing that could happen at this particular point in my life. It did occur to me that I should ask the boyf what it entailed...and promptly forgot about it...

So when we were in Sainsbury's grabbing breakfast on the way to his mum's, I didn't think anything of it when he picked up a bottle of cod liver oil that his mum had just asked him to buy...

An hour or so later, I'm sitting with the pastor with a rather bemused look on my face as he goes through the prayers. The boyf and I at this point had stopped catching each other's eyes for fear that we'd have a fit of the giggles. The pastor was lovely but he did keep praying for a speedy birth and the boyf and I were cacking ourselves. I will be 36 weeks this week and as excited as we are about the baby, we have not moved yet (don't start me on those mutherfoccacia [stole that word from David Gest..] estate agents and solicitors) and I haven't even had my antenatal classes, which start this week.

"Pastor, we don't actually want to have the baby this week... NML's not even quite 36 weeks yet..." the boyf said with a terrified look on his face and then his mum, the boyf and I collapsed in giggles.
"The baby will arrive when it wants to!"
"Er, it'll arrive when I say it will!" I quipped and we laughed even harder.
"My wife went into labour early and started screaming. I was running around in a panic in the middle of the night trying to get dressed and poof, the baby had arrived ten minutes later!" This is one of those classic occasions when men talk out of their bums and EXAGGERATE. If he'd actually had to push the baby out himself, I am pretty sure that he would know the real amount of time it took! The boyf's mum looked at me and cracked up laughing at my face.
If he hadn't been a pastor, I'm would have wisecracked about some of us having bigger fannies than other's but instead I said "Ten minutes? I'm sure it was longer than that... Maybe she let you sleep through most of the labour.... I suspect that our baby isn't planning a ten minute passage...It's not even the right way around at the moment!"

Things slipped into a momentary nightmare a few minutes later when the bottle of cod liver oil got whipped out. He'd mentioned something about me having it but denial had made me believe that he was taking the piss... He asked the boyf's mum to get spoons and I thought she'd come back with teaspoons and instead she returned with what appeared to be the biggest table spoons in the frigging world. I clutched the boyf in panic and tried to block out the memories of my grandmother giving us cod liver oil and the bro and I screaming the place down and spitting it out as soon as her back was turned. It is one of the most vile things in the world! Black folk man! The older generation have an unhealthy fascination with cod liver oil, liver, pigs feet, carnation milk and Guiness...

The spoon approached my mouth and I hastily grabbed at my nose and let it go into my mouth. Fishy wishy horrid rank stuff. I froze and then tried to swallow. It went down for a moment and then I retched and had to will myself not to throw up everywhere. NEVER AGAIN! Apparently cod liver oil lubricates you for birth...I take it he's never heard of KY Jelly....

Of course, I told my mum that we'd been at the boyf's mum for prayers and I howled with laughter when she had the cheek to suggest that it was a superstitious thing and demanded to know if it had been something dodge like voodoo!

"Ma, you need to stay off the crack!"
"Don't you be cheeking me!"
"Well you do! Give me some bleedin credit to know when I'm in a voodoo friggin session! It was private prayer with a bit of cod liver oil thrown in for good measure and that's just for health purposes."
"Cod liver FECKING oil!" she roared. "Hmmm, I hope you know what you're doing!"
"Oh I see, so when you pray for me everyday should I be calling you a voodoo queen?" I countered. And before she could add anything else, I pulled out the piece de resistence. "And I seem to remember that it was YOU that kept trying out different churches last year and didn't even realise that one of them was full of dodgy voodoo people! You're lucky that the boyf and his mum pointed that out to you!"

Is that a golliwog/minstrel or are you just happy to see me?

The boyf and I decided to view a few properties yesterday and after a pretty quiet week of me staying at home and resting myself and the bump that kicks like a maniac, I was itching to be out in normality again. We turned up for one of our viewings just before midday and another driver cut us up for the parking space outside of the house. As we parked, we noticed that they, a middle aged black woman and her daughter, were also approaching the same house. The woman had on a wig that was on a little bit crooked so I decided that it was understandable if she didn't see us when she cut us up moments earlier....

The woman had recognised that we were there to view the same property and seemed to race very cockily to the front door, so the boyf and I waited by the gate. The front door opened and I stifled giggles as an older white man's (looked to be in his late sixties) eyes widened at the sight of us all. He quickly composed himself but he was very short with the woman who had not only got the time wrong the day before, but had also turned up thirty minutes early now. He asked what our names were and waved us in.

One thing is sure to happen to me when I'm scared (Remember when I got the acupuncture needles in my bum and my va-jay-jay?), nervous (Me at my step-grandmothers funeral and just after the burial seeing little bro doing what appeared to be a pee several feet away. Turns out he was washing the dirt off his hands.....) and shocked, like I was at the viewing.

The door closed behind us and he said "Right so, I'll show you the upstairs first!" and he went ahead of us up the stairs and I turned to take the first step and was confronted with one of those golliwog/minstrel statues. I paused for a moment and then quickly moved on because I had been attacked by an uncontrollable fit of giggles. I mean F*CKING HELL! Do people still keep those things in their houses?

When we decided to sell the flat, our estate agents advised that we do a bit of decluttering. Did it not occur to their estate agent to say "You know sir, I reckon you'll sell this place quicker if you declutter" and when he know doubt asks what they mean, they could say "Well you could start with putting away that black faced statue at the bottom of the stairs."

The images and history of golliwog's and minstrel's images are pretty controversial on either side of the Atlantic. I'm not an over-sensitive person but I do find them to be offensive representations of how black people have been perceived in the past. The term 'golliwog' used to be a very popular racist term and both were popularist items of white culture that still hold some very negative connotations. Clearly he can display what he wants in his own home, but

As we walked around, I hid behind doors and looked out windows to let out my giggles. I kept looking around expecting to see more of the statues leering at us. I didn't dare look him in the eye for fear that I would erupt into hysterical laughter. I got us out of there as quick as possible and tempting as it was, I resisted the urge to make a comment about the statue as it would have been highly uncomfortable and a waste of my breath. OK..and the boyf would have been mortified. In the car, expressed our shock in between laughter and that's what I'm thankful for: we don't let people's dodgy racist ways get to us and find them laughable. Obviously we won't be buying his house...

In more struggles of the politically correct, the boyf got very drunk last night and in a slurred long winded explanation about God-knows-what, he described it as "Politically erect". Today, he is paying for it all with a massive hangover and we've got to go to my mum's in a while, which should make for an interesting afternoon.