there was a hail storm this afternoon and all the girls at Fanny and Maude’s School for Fine Young Ladies started to scream when it thundered and run to the windows when the hail began to fall from the sky  I could think of was that my car was out in the hail and I didn’t want the pain of having to get it fixed, but I had to focus and calm the screaming running girls down and then I said we are going to the library and then they all shot out the door and ran to the library which should have been an easy thing to do, but the water was flowing over the guttering and so there was a big wall of water and the silly screaming girls ran through it and then I had to rn through it because I had to chase after them to the library and calm them down and so we all got soaked and then they were rushing about the library and some were begging to phone their mothers because they wouldn’t be able to go swimming, tennis playing, dancing, home in the rain and I said silly girls it will stop raining in ten minutes which it did, but we were all wet and they refused to settle until I got angry at them and threated them with a hit from a big stick and they know I can’t do that and so they laughed but they started to calm down but then the lesson was over and then they all rain out of the library and I hope their mothers got wet driving to school to pick up their children because that is what they deserve for raising children who scream when it storms

My mother is an anxious woman. I suspect she is 74th generation anxious and she has done a mighty fine job of passing it on to the next two generations at least.

As she ages, my mother becomes more anxious. She worries that she will get wet, that she might get cold, that she will run out of milk. So we have stopped telling her some things. FOR HER OWN SAKE, we say.

We lie to protect Mum from her own fears and anxieties, so that is ok, right? My real fear is that now, some 52 years from the womb, that I may develop a propensity to lie to my one surviving parent. Not that I had a plethora of parents to lie to previously, just the two, but Dad couldn’t even remember my age when I was growing up, so lying would never have been needed with him anyway. And towards the end he couldn’t even remember me at all so that kind of swept the slate clean!

 This is a side of caring for oldies that no one ever warns you about, a bit like when you give birth no one warns you that you will have to teach them to drive and allow them to take the family car one day. When your parents age sometimes you have to lie to keep them happy.

 I am not good at lying. I am ok at the old “of course you look fine in that god awful dress” lie. That is being polite. The other stuff, lying about the fact that your child hasn’t visited Grandma for a couple weeks because in fact they are out of the country, that is a little harder. And remembering the lie to keep the farce going is a bit of a long order too.  My daughters have told me that they will teach me the tricks. Apparently they have it down pat. As I am the mother they must have been lying to all this time, I am not sure how I should take that little bit of information.

 Maybe I will ask them to lie about their lying just to keep me calm and happy too. Ignorance is indeed parental bliss.

 Life Lesson 947: It is alright to lie to your mother if it will save her suffering, and you can hide your tracks.

 And if I am not struck by a bolt of heavenly lighting today I may be back tomorrow with another life lesson.

MIL as a young woman went dancing with a man she wanted to become the man of her dreams. It was during WWII and the days of rationing and making do. They we half way around the dance floor when she felt the elastic give way in her panties – and down they slipped. She managed to kick them off as she danced praying no one would notice.. MIL can barely walk now so it is hard to imagine her having the dexterity, but apparently blind panic can help you achieve amazing things.

 The dance finished, and she left the floor pantieless , only to have the band master hold the panties up above his head and declare “Has one of the ladies lost these?”                                                                                               

She did not confess, and she did not win that man of her dreams.


a real partnership is knowing that when you only eat half a banana for breakfast and leave the other half sitting on the kitchen bench, that your partner will come down to their breakfast and eat the other half, not because they may particularly want to, but because they know that you left it for them – and that they must do everything you want or else. Obedience. It works.