Much Ado About Crackness

No I haven't given birth yet... OK, so that's out of the way until I get the usual daily texts, emails, and phonecalls... Oh the joys of being about to pop!

Anyhooo...I dragged myself up into central London again on Thursday as I had a friend visiting from Dublin. Whereas before many people would rugby tackle me to get in front of me to get on the Tube or grab a seat, now when I approach it's like the parting of the red sea. I was not impressed when I got to Oxford Circus, hoisted myself out of the seat and turned just in time to see two men pointing at my bump! Now I have no idea what they were saying, but have they never heard that saying 'It's rude to point'? Or is it 'It's rude to f*cking point?' It's been a while since I've done my I Hope Your Nuts Shrivel to The Size of Walnuts glare and I enjoyed seeing the hand shrink back. Yes I'm hormonal and yes, maybe that was a bit bitchy, but it's better than what could have come out of my mouth if I had dared to speak!

My ma chewed the ear off me (not literally) for an hour whilst draining my brain for man advice. Isn't this some weird role reversal? Shouldn't she be advising me about men? Or at least how to ensure that her daughter manages to give birth without ripping herself to bits (sorry for any trauma caused by that last line...)? She's still seeing the guy from the baby shower, or at least she was when I last spoke to her. It's like having a mother with teen angst. My ma is me multiplied by a million with a hell of a lot less tact, so even though I'd been inclined to think that 'Daddy G' is a no good, cocky, too old to be a playa but he'll give it a try, lothario, I couldn't help feeling vaguely sorry for him being on the end of her earache. As she explained her gripes (apparently he used up all the hot water after she told him not to and he says 'Innit'), I had to say 'Are you on flipping crack? Seriously, you should hear yourself! Are you deranged?' to which she replied 'I've told you to stop calling me a crackhead...'

On top of her dating dramas, the bro is pretending that 'Daddy G' doesn't exist which is creating mucho tension. A recent conversation with the bro about the situation went something like this:

NML: So about mum and the...
The Bro: No...I don't want to hear it!
NML: But you don't even know what I..
The Bro: No, no, no, no, NO! I'm not hearing it! They don't exist!
NML: Don't you think that y........?
The Bro: I am warning you! If you say that man's name I..
NML: Alright, but don't you think you're being a bit melodra..
The Bro: I don't give a f*ck. Do you have any idea what it's like living with your mother and having that smirking, muther..(insert a hell of a lot of expletives)
NML: Well it's not like they're d...
The Bro: NOOOOOOOOOOO! I'm not having this conversation anymore!

In the early hours of the following morning, I woke up startled from a dream where my ma said "Well NML, a woman needs pleasure!" I woke up clutching myself in horror and grabbed at the boyf, who in turn woke up in a panic because he thought I was going into labour! When I told him about the dream, he howled with laughter and when I added in the conversation with the bro, we were both crying with laughter!

I appreciate that my ma wants companionship and all that jazz, but it's be great if she could do it without the drama. I used to have a serial case of bad taste in men and had more dodgy chat ups, encounters and dates than I care to remember, and now it's like my mum is morphing into an exaggerated version of my old self. Or is that I got it from her? Or heaven forbid, have I taught my mum to be crap at dating?!

On a slightly different subject, I'm still trying to figure out what to do with this blog, but I am seriously considering changing the title to 'Are you on crack?' Hmmm, if I can hold off on giving birth, I'll make a decision this week. 

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