L is for Lackadaisical

L is for Lackadaisical – what effective parenting is not. If you want to see some quality kids spring forth from your skills you better put your back into it. And remember, it’s not quality time, it’s quantity time.

L is for Love – thankfully they bring their own with them so even if you don’t like them all that much they’re going to love you no matter what.

L is for Light – I’ve been known to trick mine into thinking it was sunset by depriving them of light by placing block out on all the blinds throughout the house.

L is for Limping – there will be no sympathy for you no matter what the injury you have sustained. But if they’ve got a little booboo on their little finger they’ll be limping. It’s not fair. Get Over It. Kiss the booboo and go and set your broken arm with a tennis racket and some duct tape.

L is for Lambasting – I love shouting at my kids and making them cower in fear – it gives one such a sense of Power. I don’t do it too often otherwise they get used to it but to threaten them with a ‘lambasting’ is very effective.

L is for Loose – the looser one is, in the bedroom, the more likely one is to have children – don’t make me take out my diagrams to explain this one.

L is for Literal – that’s what their brains are for too long, sarcasm is wasted, at least until they’re about 8 or 9 years old – keep practising though. Consistency is key!

L is for Lactose Intolerant – what a pain! Not only do they have their own sleep, clothing, bladder and bowel requirements they now also come with all sorts of dietary pre-requisites. Post Natal Depression is so easily explained.

L is for Lips – only a mother and the occasional strong stomached father would accept a kiss from the mouth of a toddler that feeds its own face – milky mushed up biscuits spit, snot and chocolate with a healthy side order of sand pit sand – ‘yum’!

L is for Little – what children seem to be for a hundred years while you’re raising them and they’re growing up and then 18 years later you’ll look back and think, “that was just a blink” but if you did it wrong or right no one seems to want to do it again. I wonder why?

L is for Loser – specifically that song, ‘I’m a loser baby, so why don’t you kill me? Ooooooh hit the floor’ etc…. Barring a case of mondegreen, since I only think those are the words, I hear it every time my kids don’t eat the food that I’ve slaved over a hot stove to make for them or the rare occasions they’ve had public tantrums. In fact I might even have hummed it…… Since they seem to know the tune and will even join in if they’re not too distracted.

L is for Lush – it’s one of my constant day dreams to be highly functional alcoholic and it’ll have to stay that way since I get tipsy off trifle. *sigh* Oh and on the topic of lush, it’s one of the reasons we didn’t name one of our own loin fruit ‘Ruby’ since apparently most kids called by this moniker has a lush for a mum. I’d prefer it to stay a little ‘Mrs Robinson’ secret.

L is for Lactating Let Down – there are too many interpretations of those three words. For me it’s the literal, painful act and physical feeling. As a nursing mother the term really struck a chord with me and to this day if I get to handle a tiny baby when it starts squalling – I swear I can feel it all coming back to me – thus I hastily hand it back to its real nurturer lest I have accident of the ‘leaky boob’ variety.

L is for Licky Eyeball – may there be many testimonies to this! My Mother likes to hold down anyone who will let her and Lick. Their. Eyeball. Yes. Then she runs away screaming and whooping like a school girl. I won’t disclose her real age but I’m no spring chicken. It’s endearing but I won’t miss it when I move her into Shady Pines.

L is for Lap – what a great place to have your hair brushed, a story read to you, a lullaby sung to you, a bit of difficult homework explained. A lap is not something one should ever take for granted. My Ouma was obese – I think she missed having a little more space on hers to share with all her grandchildren. We didn’t notice then and would always clamour up on to the bit of knee that could accommodate us and there we would precariously perch. In fact it wasn’t too shabby because the old girl could play the piano with us sitting there, our noses squished into middle C.

L is for Lisp – why oh why is it necessary to speech therapise this out of a human – it’s the cutest sound in the world. Does it hurt anyone? Is it detrimental to the person who has it? I don’t know – I’m ignorant on such things. If anyone does know; please inbox me.

L is for Last Time – ok, this is the Last Time that you can go and rinse yourself off in the sea. This is the Last Time that you can watch Finding Nemo. This is the Last Time that I’m reading Mouse Noses On Toast or This Is How Much I Love You. This is the Last Time that we’re going to Wimpy/Spur/MacDonalds etc. This is the Last Time that you will be giving me Licky Eyeball. Consistently there does not seem to be any Last Time. And if it is the Last Time – you don’t know it until it’s too late. Being human is an awesome condition to appreciate.