Bastard Child!

What to do, what to do.

Totally out of – what is it family across the pond call it- left field?

Taking it, from my movie going experience, that means somewhat unexpected. A long shot as it were.

Busy wee day here. Shopping. Groceries. Crap. Crap. And then a side order of shit for good measure. You know, typical weekend. Catch up on what work prevents you from doing sort of crap.

So I figured a wee while round at my sister’s – seven doors away- lucky me, was the order of the day. Some r&r. Bit of a chat. A few giggles. Well, lots usually. Guffawing is more like it and quite a few snorts at life and love and lewdity. You know. Sisters.

I left my trusted 18 year old with the pans and knew that after a day of not eating – I do that a lot – I could come home to one of my favourite meals. Spaghetti bolognaise. I know. It seems boring. But I’ve trained my crew well. Some of them. David now has it off pat. Although, watch out for the garlic and his consumption of my red wine. I’ve nearly been pissed a few times after eating David’s offerings.

So, I thought, a bit of a chin wag, share a couple of glasses of red, home for dinner.

I thought.

Twenty-four year old son not to be reckoned with.

He ate my fucking dinner. He never eats what we are eating! He’s one of these high protein-no carbs-shall-pass-my-lips sort of freaks. Ask him if he’s eating with us and the answer over the last couple of years has been, ‘No way. I’m hitting the gym and my body is a temple’, kind of garbage. Because I know he lets loose and orders in chicken chasni pizza when he has company. What a gross combination I always think. Whose bright idea was it to merge pizza with Indian cuisine?

He ate my dinner. I can still smell it. What I missed. Bastard child.

I’d been salivating at my sister’s. Red wine cultivating an appetite too often absent. Juices flowing thinking of the prospect of just the right amount of red wine added, pasta cooked to a T, parmesan grated lovingly, garlic wafting deliciously from seven doors away.

And Joe ate it!

And I can’t even give him a row! He’s off out with the current girlfriend.

And I settled for a few bacon sarnies with brown sauce. Very nice, it was. But not when you were expecting spag bol. I’m feeling quite gutted. And a little pissed. Might get a bit more pissed now.

Sometimes I hate weans.

26 thoughts on “Bastard Child!”

  1. Brilliant! Hilarious! Absolutely loved every moment of this, Anne-Marie: from chin-wags to pilfering bloody weans, it was a treat to read. Yes, drink the whole damn bottle – and then some more! You deserve it after having the food almost literally snatched out of your mouth by the ungrateful fruit of your womb! Mine did something similar the other day with a bar of Lindt I had been hoarding (never a good idea, that!): the little bugger found it and, by the time I sussed out where it had gone – and charged into his room like an enraged rhino! – there was sod-all left but the wrapper!
    Enjoy the vino/beer/Laphroaig/Meths – or whatever your particular ‘poison’ is! xxx

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    1. I’m telling you, Ali. There used to be rules here! Like, ‘Don’t eat anything that says Cadbury’s on it without asking me first’ and ‘Dinner times’ at …o’clock’. This is what happens when your weans turn into adults. At least when it suits them. Wee bastards!
      Wine, Ali. Tipple of choice. But if it keeps up like this I’ll be pricing meths. 😉 x

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  2. You should make him cook you a spag Bol when he gets home. Or make an enormous pan of it and make him eat the lot, like parents who make their children smoke an entire packet of cigs when they catch them smoking…

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    1. Oh, if only, Suzie. Gone are those days with him. I just keep threatening to throw him out on his arse! Thing is, I love him to pieces. So I won’t. But…..’his jaiket’s oan a shaky nail’ as we say. A certain age seems to come and rules are for the birds. I must remember that for myself ‘cos I know I’m well passed that age. 😉 x

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  3. I’d say steal his Indian pizza & feed it to the birds – but after losing that fine sounding spaghetti dinner, you could never even the score – time to pull that jacket peg

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    1. I’ll get him back, no fear. Might grind up some carbs into his protein shakes! Or make sure I leave no roast for him tonight. There are others here with dibs on his room so I might get one of them to pull the nail. 🙂 x

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  4. I don’t know what to say Anne-Marie, but men do these things! I divide up the food in containers and we have color designated bowls so if it is in the red bowl, it is Geoff’s and in the green, mine. Otherwise, nothing is left for me!

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    1. Joe does that with his protein foods. All divvied up in the fridge and dare anyone touch them! Then he helps himself to everything else too. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone to make something and it’s disappeared. He’s not the only one though. If it’s in the fridge it’s fair game seems to be the rule. Funnily enough, when I was round at my sister’s one of her kids was raiding the fridge and we decided that easy pickings was the problem. If it was all in the freezer they’d never be bothered going to the effort of defrosting. I can fill up the fridge one day and go back the next wondering where the hell everything has gone. Like feeding buns to elephants my mum used to say. Ah well, I suppose I should be thankful that I can fill the fridge. Even if a day later they say, there’s nothing to eat in here! Try the freezer! 😉 x

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  5. I finally sold my kids. The relief to do or be anything I want. Then I gave up wine and chocolate…go figure. After the antics to keep it all safe…hiding places etc (isn’t that the sign of an alcaholic-chocaholic? 🙂 ) I wonder if it is built into us that we only want what we can’t have.

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    1. In Joe’s case it’s having what he wants regardless of whose it might be! I didn’t know there was a market for weans. I could be on to something here. 😉 And yes, creativity is certainly challenged coming up with hiding places for certain things. I’ve now got planks in my office for particular items. 🙂 I didn’t think I was gonna have to hide my dinners in it as well though! 🙂 x

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      1. My mum fixed me good. She put ginger in everything….I hate ginger. Yes, I now know it’s good for you, but it still tastes terrible. Does he have an aversion to anything? Just plunk it into everything. Mind you, by the time you put everyone else’s aversions to something, the food will probably be inedible. Great weight loss program though 🙂

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      2. I’m mortified, Mark. I just challenged him. And he said it wasn’t him! I’ve just publicly vilified my son and he’s not guilty! I haven’t told him about the post though so I’m off scot free. 😉 Wonder if it was the dog! I might put ginger in the dog’s dinner. Now I’m just curious. 😉 x

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      3. Oh mommus. I nearly wet myself. You have my sympathy, I also have been in that position…and boy, does your morality take a flogging. And just to make sure we have learned a lesson, someone will tell him, and won’t it be on for young and old then. ‘Mum, how could you’, will be ringing in your ears for months. I’ll send you some healing energy to support you whilst you restore your battered pride…and find the darling that did do it…who’s next 🙂

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      4. I know. Humbled by the truth. Unless of course he’s lying! That’ll teach me to keep my mouth shut till I get all the facts. Actually, it probably won’t. 😉 Feet first. I blame hubby. It was he who said Joe ate it. He’s another one who needs to get his facts straight first. I suppose I better sneak in with Joe with my roast tonight. 🙂 x

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    1. That’s just it. When they’re wee, they ask. Once they get to a certain age they don’t bother to think. See it, eat it. I’ve lost many a bar if chocolate, like Ali, to the phantoms. Get a padlock now! 😉 x

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  6. Are you mad because you cooked it and left it simmering and he ate all of it? Or because he cooked it, ate and didn’t leave you any? LOL Either way it’s hilarious. You and your sister must be wicked fun. 🙂

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    1. I’m mad because I declined food at my sister’s in anticipation of David’s spag bol. Then Joe eats it. Gutted! My sister’s great. We really can wet ourselves when we’re together. We shared a room growing up and there’s less than two years between us so we’ve always been really close. I can pop in on her any time and vice versa. It’s great. 🙂 x

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