Nightmare...
Since finding this hilarious wedding invitation online, I have been tortured by recurring nightmares. In one version I am the sobbing mother, and some minx is making off with my golden son, in another frightful hallucination - I am the bride (my monster-in-law hates me you know)!!!
This dear friends, is Dulwichmum's complete and utter ultimate nightmare scenario - after all of my hard work!
I never do anything at all in half measures you know. I always endeavour to be the best at everything, in this case - I am trying to afford my munchkins the best possible opportunities in life (I have been plying them with Omega 3 rich fish oils since birth).
In an effort to ensure that the poppets gain places at the right universities, I am already bearing their future UCAS (university) application forms in mind...
I encourage my darling boy to engage in outdoor sports; rugby, football, cricket and martial arts (I will ensure that Max is perceived as an asset to any university team) - but what if instead of gaining the title of Captain of the Rugby/Cricket Team and completing his Gold Duke of Edinburgh Gold award by 17, darling Max decides to be a martial arts instructor or an orienteering coach? OHMYGOD!
I am focused on ensuring that my poppet will play both a stringed and brass musical instrument to Grade 8 (it looks so darned "well rounded" on an application form for university, he can play in their brass band or orchestra) but what if my little man decides to join a band or ever OHMYGOD - play the oboe for a living???
My baby boy has been bombarded with Muzzy French and Mandarin (the business language of the future) since birth - enjoying after school mandarin lessons so very much indeed (I had to put the darling's name down on the waiting list at conception for this one, sigh) - but what if he decides that he actually wants to live in France or China or be a language teacher???
I am tortured. How can a mother ever feel secure that she is making the right choices for her perfect son?
I shall teach Freya everything I know. My darling four year old flower is already equipped with her own orange sticks and pushes back her cuticles regularly - I can rest assured that I am getting it right with one of my offspring...sigh.
17 comments:
My wedding invitation was pretty similar to that one wasn't it? Do you remember? My lovely MIL RSVP'd in blood.....
Oh Well-Meaning Dulwich Mum, I suppose when your darling Munchkins crumple under the strains of parental pressure they will meet lots of famous and influential people in The Priory, or so I'm told.
We all do our best, DM - and then in 10 years time they'll repay us by learning Philip Larkin's classic poem and quoting it to you in moments of tension. Am sure you know the one... 'They fxxk you up, your mum and dad...'
It's a thankless task.
I'm pretty sure my MIL would have sent out that sort of invitation had she known we were even going to get married...
But Nunhead Mum of One darling,
I now understand your MIL's pain! You did have your nose and nipples pierced at the time...
Sweet Rosie,
You understand me, I know it. Even in The Priory, they would be mixing with influential people - networking is so important, don't you agree?
Lovely Potty Mummy,
I sooo hope it is not a thankless task. I was hoping for more and more expensive mother's day gifts. These colourful tissue flowers are all very sweet, but what is a girl to hang around her neck?
Perfect Aims,
I cannot believe that this is true. Can children really run off to get married without their parent's permission? Surely not?
Well, it looks like your son is all set to be a banjo player singing "how much is that doggy in the window", and your daughter a high-class Escort Girl.
What more could you ever want from your own children? It's all about money afterall.
OHMYGOD! Zoe, if I had known that you were going to drop by I would have had my cleaning lady do a couple of extra hours this afternoon. Welcome to my bloglet.
You are sooo right, it is all about the money in the end. But seriously, I am sooo in love with Simon.
Well, we know where we stand on that one, don't we, dear. It may come to fisticuffs if you can't woo him by food as I'll definitely win in the other department.
By the way, your banner needs dusting.
Darling Zoe,
I fear that you may be sorely disappointed - I am sure that Simon will not be impressed with your "Flemish tongue" - it is not to everyone's taste afterall... Indeed you are a celebrity blogger with a best selling book, but I am a tastey vixen with the skin of a six year old and I live near to a branch of Konditor and Cook - no man can resist their fruit cake!
I only speak a little Flemish, dear, and my sexy French gets me everywhere, not to mention those Pierre Marcolini pralines ... the only ones that even I will touch.
You're such a loser here, possum.
Oh sorry dear heart! I didn't notice your comment on my bloglet - I was busy catching up with my friends on Facebook - you will never guess who I am friends with...(sigh)
I may even have my bikini line waxed!
Well you're not friends with me which just goes to show that you truly are mixing in the wrong circles.
Sigh.
Must share this in case anyone needs to slag off their ma-in-law in her presence. A school mum friend here wrote a book a few years back entitled "M.I.L.D.E.W." And who is Mildew you may ask? Her nick name for her MIL - Mothers In Law Do Everything Wrong. Creative eh?
Darling Zoe,
I know (sob)... Nevermind, I shall ask Simon to console me.
Sweet Expatmum,
You always manage to bring a smile to my perfect lips.
Dearest Dulwich Mum, however did you get your perfectly manicured mitts on a copy of my wedding invitation? I thought I had them all shredded ....ah well, the snarl on my mother-in-law's face (Mumsie, as I always called her) is just a delightful misty rose-tinted memory now .....
Darling DulwichDivorcee,
I can only apologise - my poppets found it in the back garden! Damn this recycling, but if you must - why not get yourself a shredder? I would never ever betray a friend sweetie. Would you like me to remove it?
DM
You are terribly sweet, DM, but I fear the damage is done now. True Love tells me my bottom lip is trembling most becomingly and another year or two in therapy beckons ....retail therapy I mean, of course. Off to Knightsbridge we go! X
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