It's an Easter Parade!!!

So my kid says to me tonight:

Him: "Can you just make the hat for me, like while I'm at school or something?"

Me: "You don't want to have some fun and make it yourself, or maybe even just help out a bit?"

Him: "Nah, not really. Just make it like Missy's, but maybe make it brown or something. It'll be ok."

And there we have it. The joy of fucking Easter. Meaning that I have to make fricken hats for the fricken Easter hat parade at school. Not a crafty arse women, not a lot of fucken enjoyment for this on my behalf. Just don't want to be seen as the dodgey arse mum at school any more than being a tattooed, non involved mum who teaches her kids to say penis and vagina already gives me credit for. Fuck canteen duty, I have better shit to do with my time. Anyway...

So yeah, I fell for it. And it's now 11pm and I'm sitting with fucken cardboard bunny ears in front of me, all ready to be covered in BROWN fluffy shit. Thank christ for bourbon. Where would I be without it? Probably enjoying a decent sleep for the first time in years. How many years? Well my eldest kid is 9, you do the math. My brain's too baby-fucked to work out change from $1 these days.

What the fuck is wrong with this picture? I spent my afternoon holding up a 70 power Mercury boat motor, so that the 'Fo, otherwise known as my husband or the reason for my quad set of children, could fix the steering cable. And while I was holding this fucking motor, which is pretty friggen heavy if you haven't had the joy of doing such a task yourself, the last thought on my mind was that I would then spend my evening doing craft work.

Craft work. That's when you know that life as you knew it is slipping away beyond your grasp. I just spent a couple of hours intermittently holding up under my own power, a 100kg motor. And now I'm pulling out a glue gun to attach fucking bunny ears??

Yeah, yeah. I know, I'm giving my kid the easy way out. Teaching him that he doesn't have to do his own work and shit. But trust me, I'm not one of those mums that does everything for them. In other parents words, and I quote, I'm a "bit of a bitch", and could perhaps "help them out every now and again", meaning do their fucken homework for them, like I didn't already go to school and do it myself and therefore have a big arse pass when it comes to doing it again 20 years later, or maybe "fucking cold" sortof meaning the same as the last.

So yeah, I sit, I cut, I glue tonight. Knowing that when I'm old and incontinent, my boy will be the first one I call on to wipe my arse. Gives me a bit of a glow when I think of the circle of life.