Racing to the Beat of the Drum.....

.....again. He must have timed his summer hols with ours. Lovely waking up of a morn and sauntering down stairs to a leisurely breakfast...well, in between the food fights and normal sibling warfare that is part and parcel of family life that is.....cruising out to the pools for an all day dip. Now he`s back. In the corner. Beating away on his drum most heartily with that stupid grin on his face. Where are the darts? And his bloody loincloth looks like it hasn`t been washed a while too. "Shut up!" I screech," I am going as fast as I bloody can!" 

" Mummy! Will you please stop shouting at the wall! " Bat Boy wailed, rolling eyeballs up in an enviable Exorcist movement, "No wonder everyone thinks you are bloody weird!"

"Stop swearing!" I admonish.

"Why?" Bat Boy counters, " You are always bloody swearing!"

"No, I bloo...blo..antly don`t!" I stammer back.

"Chill out,Mummy." smiles three year old The Booby Slayer.

"Yeah...chill out,Mumsy," adds Bat Girl," The world ain`t going to end if our bento is burnt!"

"When I feel stressed, I like to play with my willy," interjects Bat Boy.

"Thanks for sharing,love." I grin, somewhat forcibly." But we didn`t need to know that."

The drum beat notches up as I text hubby ` Your son is talking about willy sports in public again. Fatherly chat required tonight. Thank you`. Oh bloody hell, I can smell something burning.

"Bloody hell," shouts out Bat Girl," The pizza for our lunch box is on fire....again, Mummy!"

The drum beat fills my ears as I feel the house lurch and the smell of the sea assaults my nostrils.

"Coming!" I cry out, sounding like Alpha Dalek from Dr Who.

" I am feeling a bit stressed,Mummy!" cries The Booby Slayer." Can I play with  Bat Boy`s willy?"

"No, you can`t!" I firmly reply while attempting to put out the pizza bonfire....


    

Going Crutchless...And I Ain`t Talking Knickers!

"Here is an explanation in English," Doctor pushes a handwritten note over to me.

`Lisfranc fracture-dislocation of second metatarsal with extensive periosteal reaction on either side of both third and fourth metatarsals`

"Okay?" enquires the rather dishy doctor specialist softly. I steal a glance at hubby who is reading the Japanese version and nodding in complete comprehension.

Not wanting to look like the only person in the room who hasn`t got a clue what is going on...even though I am...."Yes,Dr Dishy. That`s cleared it up for me!" I cheerfully lie despite my raging foot. I surreptitiously slide the paper into my coat pocket. Google later.

"We need to totally immobilise your foot in a splint. You must rest," stresses Dr Dishy and I wonder if he creases his eyebrows like that during sex. Oh...positive sign....maybe I am already healing if I am thinking about sex. "Come back next week and we`ll do another X-ray. If the bones haven`t aligned properly, we`ll have to operate and  put shunts in between the bones to help them heal properly....."

I felt the room lurch. Operation? No....no...no...no...I don`t do operations. I do parties, bbqs. I`ve even been known in my wilder days to do the odd striptease in public but operations....oh no no no. Not since that movie based on a true story about some girl waking up during the op and feeling the surgeons wiggling their hands around in her insides.

"Let`s get this splint on!" smiles Dr Dishy as a nurse efficiently strolls over pushing a tray with lots of white material on it. "Oh,...white?" I ask. "Yes," smirks back Dr Dishy doing that cute thing again with his eyebrows. "Is that the only colour available," I enquire. "Erm..." Dishy stammers. "It`s just that white isn`t really me, if you know what I mean?" I continue," It just doesn`t do anything for my skin tone.....and it`s going to get dirty so quickly!"

"Love..they only have white." hubby interjects, casting a smile around the room which instantly reactivates doctor and nurses back to their task. "Can I have a spare one,Dr?" which results in confused looks all round. "For when I have to wash one." I explain feeling exasperated that such simple logic has eluded all and sundry. "Oh no," startles Dr Dishy," Please do not remove this. It must be left intact. Do you understand?" Giving a little sniff, I nod to confirm.

Over at  the `Crutch Training Centre` I did my time. Diligently watched demonstration and then practised the  `those who have a fractured disloyal meta something with other meta somethings with allergic something or others` gait.

I waited with bated breath for my shiny new crutches to emerge. If they don`t have red or gold, black would be ideal. They`d go with anything and I have a pair of boots..or one boot in black fake snakeskin that would look awesome. Throw in my furry black Gap bag, should look pretty cool for someone in pain.Maybe I`ll splash out on a pair of big Garbo type sunglasses. That way, I can grimace away and no-one will notice. I`ll just look like some poor tragic figure. Battling her way through the pain and misery but with elegance.

The nurse handed me a pair of dreary grey, battered things which I promptly handed over to the old lady waiting patiently next to me. "There you go,dear!" To my horror,the nurse handed them back to me. Looking at hubby. "Oh no.You`ve got to be kidding me..." as hubby wheeled the chair over, I glared at the crutches hoping they`d bend in half under my steely gaze  " A white splint and now this....There`s only so much a girl can take,you know!" I whisper, almost in tears. Turning round to look at hubby quietly pushing us down the corridor. " You did ask them about a red or gold pair,  didn`t you ?"

Bending over hubby kisses my ear and says " Cup of tea,darling!"Oh well,.....I suppose I could shine them up with some ribbons or something...... 

Dem Bones, Dem Bones...Dem Broken Bones.

The Bat Twins went on a school field trip today. Getting up at six to prepare packed lunches is a delightful experience in itself. Getting up at six to prepare packed lunches with right foot, an overnight virtuoso in impersonating a lower limb with acute Elephantitus, was heavenly. Orgasmic even.

Hey!"calls hubby entering the room, waving the envelope I brought home from the clinic last night." What`s this?" I deftly toss pancakes onto the plates of my three little birds waiting impatiently with mouths agape. "Stuff from the clinic." I confirm. "What did the doctor say to you?"enquires hubby, guiding me gently to the sofa and displacing Fatso the Feline unceremoniously from his cushion throne. Clouds of hair rise in protest, mirroring Fatso`s mood. "Well..."I pondered while sustaining world peace at the kitchen table,"....he waffled on about something in  English..." Hubby looking down at a letter written by the doctor. "Did he mention something about meta.....metatarsals? Broken metatarsals?" I laughed."Yeah...I couldn't understand what he was going on about at first. But I reckoned he was chit chatting about music.Was into rock or something. I was a bit surprised. He doesn`t look the type. He didn`t seem impressed when I told him `Bon Jovi` rocked it for me actually!" With a great rolling of his eyes, "Love, you have broken and dislocated metatarsals in your foot. Broken bones!"

Poor right foot. I have let you down badly. Here was I cursing at you for your Prima Donna ways and the fault lies with me and my lack of medical Japanese lingo. Limb lost in translation. If there aren`t any flashing lights with sirens or electric shock pads involved, I tend to switch off until I can confer with hubby, on mutual linguistic ground on the diagnosis.

I remember, a few years back, going to a dentist  for a check up. I`d been having problems with one particular tooth . I understood most of  what the dentist, a lovely man, was saying until we arrived at the diagnosis. He tried so hard and patiently to explain but there I sat, bewilderment clouding my face. Off he rushed to a cupboard and enthusiastically brought a book over, fumbled through the pages then passed it to me proudly.

`Periodontal disease is a form of gum disease but more powerful and stronger.With no fast interruption, the tooth tissue rubs away and teeth drop out. (See Figure 1.1 and the Figure 1.2) The infectious people may sometime watch an `elongation` of the tooth due to gum withdrawal symptoms. The tooth look longer, but it is a hallucination to the viewer watching his mouth. Tooth expose itself more on daily way. Teeth look bad. Stingy breath is popular in such situations. Heart, liver, stomach may feel bad too. In severe case, teeth must be evacuated out of the aural area and reformed.`

Clutching my mouth and forgetting myself for a moment, I half  shout out in horror "Oh no!" upon which, Mr Dentist looking over my shoulder suddenly grabs the book and apologises. "Very sorry.Wrong page."      

A Simple Misunderstanding.

I have three gorgeous kids..... who I don`t want to kill most of the time. Two of them are little Princesses. One a wee bit bigger than the other. The bigger Princess is graduating into the whole Barbie doll scene. A tad more sophisticated, I was informed haughtily  than the whole Disney Princess doll scene the smaller,chubbier Princess is currently lounging in. And lounge they do,my little Princess`s adopted `siblings`, Belle,Aurora,Ariel,Cinderella and Jasmine are to be found most nights on the sofa.Snuggled up to my hubby as he slurps his beer while watching the current season of `House`  in Japan. I did feel a tad threatened at first but they are all one man gals. Unlike that floozy Snow White who was shacked up with seven guys one time. Anyway....I digress....

During an episode of `House` one particular moment resulted in hubby, who was in the act of downing a particularly large gulp of beer, to burst into an abrupt  bout of boisterous hilarity, causing him to forcefully expel his mouth of all beer contents all over the sofa and his mini groupies. A calamitous situation indeed. Aurora looked as if she`d barfed all down herself, Belle`s mascara was starting to run, Jasmine looked like something from a wet T-shirt contest. I took off their tiny gowns and hand washed them,wiped the pert boobies with a bum wipe and brushed their hair back into place.

Wee Princess was not impressed the following morn. I explained that Daddy had accidentally `poured` beer on her little pals but their dresses had been taken off and were drying in a sunny breeze as we spoke.Babysitter arrives and off out I toddle.

A couple of hours later I return and whilst in the kitchen making the sitter a cuppa....what a nice employee I am...........I hear wee Princess sobbing her heart out. Concerned,I dropped teabag back into cup and into the next room to find ta concerned babysitter kneeling in front of my wee one.

Babysitter. "Who is Dolly

Wee Princess. "She`s my best friend!"....sniffle sniffle

Babysitter. "Where does she live?"

Wee Princess.  "Here. In Asagaya".

Babysitter. "What did your Daddy do again?"

Wee Princess. "Made her drink beer and took her dress off....." Breaks into huge sobs with tendrils of nasal mucus along for the sympathy.


I thank the heavens above that the lady concerned knows my husband and I otherwise only the Lordy knows where or what this could have led to......