Thursday 26 March 2009

Bloody hell

This was going to be something a little different. Something ....ooh, even a little poetic. Warm round the edges (or am I just mixing that up with incontinence pants - it's so hard to be sure these days) and a little soft and cuddly inside (not incontinence pants, then).

I was going to write about the end of term, today. About how the school felt after the pupils had left for the hols and all the other teachers - except me - had set off to get drunk. How odd it feels to be inside a place designed exclusively for mass use, defined by noise and activity - at least some of it purposeful - when it's empty.

That was before I got home, though, and had all poetic thoughts driven out of me within a very few minutes.

I'm going to add a warning now. The following scene involves bodily emissions, a dog with degraded tastes and my darling eldest daughter's disposal of items signalled in ladies' loos with those paper bags tastefully adorned with a woman in a crinoline.

So....I arrive home. In one of my token nods in the direction of housekeeping routine, I have remembered not only to put on a wash this morning but, even more surprisingly, to take it out again on the same day. Marvel if you will.

When Beth first started her periods, you could always tell because for several days each month, the house looked as if we'd hosted a series of 'come as you are,' parties for slaughterhouse workers, or staged a no-expense spared on the effects production of Macbeth, with particular emphasis on the murders.

She's got better, no question, but only because we told her that if we had to replace the bathroom carpet again, she was paying.

But there are still gaps in her understanding. Like her inability to believe that, amazingly, there is no sanitary towel fairy who will come round each night and remove all offending items, sweep them into some fragrantly scented bag and leave some money for them.

There is, however, a dog with a cracking sense of smell and no discretion.

A dog, moreover, which, encouraged by Beth, likes lying on beds. Ideally, the biggest bed in the house...

When we leave this morning, I ask Beth, then Deborah, to make sure our bedroom door is shut. They both assure me it is. Fool that I am for failing to read the secret message concealed in their smiling, positive assurances which is undoubtedly on the lines of, 'Oh, for God's sake, who knows? Who cares? Check the door yourself if you're really that desperate. And why do you worry about everything?'

I almost feel that I don't have to supply the denouement. But here goes. Don't feel you have to read it.

So I go upstairs with the washing and hear the guilty rattle of the dog's collar from our bedroom. (The cat, naturally, is lying all over my printer downstairs looking smugger than you would have thought possible, and sporting a virtual speech bubble that says, 'I told her not to do it but she would, anyway. Disgusting, isn't it?')

On the bed is the dog. On the bed round the dog are what look like pinky-orangy shreds of material. There are 10 or 15 of them. I shout at the dog, who disappears downstairs and then wonder whose scarf she has been chewing.

Then I look a little closer at the shreds and see, in the centre of one of them, a small bit of turqoise string. It's then that the realisation dawns, especially when I notice that not all the pinky orangey markings are confined to the shreds of material. They've magically inserted themselves into what was, when I left the house that morning, a nice, white counterpane.

If I need to be more explicit, forgive me. This is as good as it gets. But I tell you now, it's all true what they say in the ads. By gum, Smith & Nephew take pride in their workmanship. And talk about value for money when it comes to the sheer volume of material they cram into those tiny little tubes.....We should all be proud of them. And as for the absorbency. Crumbs!!!!

I don't always use my blog as therapy but I am now. Because writing it down is stopping me doing what I so dearly want to do now......find the dog and beat it to a pulp, drive to Beth's school, drag her out of her classroom and beat her to a pulp, then hole up in the house and wait for the NSPCC and RSPCA to sort out which one gets the pleasure of arresting me first.

But I won't, you know....

I've done the liberal education thing. We didn't have a party to celebrate the onset of periods. And, in retrospect, that's just as well. But I'd thought that my 'this what it is, this is where it goes, and that's what you do with it afterwards,' talk was, if not definitive, one of the best of its kind.

Perhaps not. Or was I just too liberal, to the point where periods and their associated accessories are so much in the open that, what the hell, you let it all hang out? And I do mean that quite literally.

If you haven't thrown up yet, thanks for reading. And let's hope the ST fairy is up and flying tonight. And that she's balancing a large bottle of vodka on those blood-stained, fragile little wings.

19 comments:

Iota said...

I have a fabulous business idea. I have no idea how to make it happen. I have had this idea for ages, but it has sat on the shelf in my brain marked "brilliant ideas, how do I make them happen?" I'm looking for a business partner, who can take my idea, make it happen, and then give me lots of money. You could be that partner.

Why doesn't someone produce semi-
sealed bins, of the type that are in public loos, for private homes? They would be smaller, and better designed, but the key thing is that they would be sealed in some way. They would either be like a nappy bin (looks like a dalek, you know the one), or they'd have that lid that has a sort of shelf attached when you lift it, so that when you close it, the towel slides in the bin, and the lid seals the hole.

The market for this idea is HUGE. Every house in the UK, or the world perhaps. Why has no-one thought of this? And what a service it would be for women. I mean, what are we meant to do at the moment? What do you do when you visit someone else's house? Gone are the days when we were allowed to flush and forget the d*** things.

So, leave your job and join me. I've thought "Dragon's Den" on this one. What do you reckon?

Oh, and one other thing. You'll probably enjoy this blog. When you've calmed down a little.

http://www.tamponcrafts.com/

Omega Mum said...

Iota: Great idea. Let's do it. I have only one slight problem. How do you manage the ditzy teens who could pass a dozen of said units, together with big red arrows, 'drop STs here,' or even have one strapped to the top of their heads and would STILL post the sodding things in their paper bins?

I know the truth now. I have just collected Beth from school and extracted the truth from her....

Also, who would get to empty the things? I'm hopeful that the ST fairy stille exists, be-crinolined and smiley, because I'm backing her to take on this aspect of the job. Here's to that first million.

Waffle said...

Oh, OM. This sounds so like me and my sister when younger. Do you think you - and my mother - should have gone down the PERIODS ARE SHAMEFUL HIDE YOURSELF AWAY FIE FIE UNCLEAN route? Might have been more, um, containable...

Feel you have crossed a line tonight, but in an entirely positive way. Not at all Julie Myerson, I promise.

Omega Mum said...

Jaywalker: In retrospect, your advice is so sound. Why did I tell my daughter to be proud of her body in all its various phases? Why, why, why....? And when will they make it mandatory for all washing machines to have a menstrual cycle? (Guaranteed to get the stains out).

Potty Mummy said...

Am laughing too hard to write anything useful... (other than, this is one moment when having sons seems like a good idea)

Cath said...

I have gone through a gambit of emotions on this one.
I feel quite seasick.

So glad I have sons now. I will never again complain about sweaty socks or toilet lids left up. Never. On the blog anyway. ;0)

Mum Gone Mad said...

Oh my goodness, that sounds so much like my dog (but think of litter tray not sanitary products... no dont think of litter tray actually) I'm ashamed to say this made me laugh, quite a lot. Great blog :)

lady macleod said...

Oh mercy, I'm sorry but I'm holding my sides here from the pain - the giggle pain. What a brilliant description, and well done! on not killing or beating anyone to a pulp.
I called it in, the vodka is coming FedEx.

Omega Mum said...

Potty Mum and Cath: I'm doing a great daughters for sons offer at the moment. Two ds for one s. Any takers?

Mum Gone Mad: I tried thinking about it but had to go and lie down on a bit. Not on our bed, obviously, as everything on it is still in the wash.

Lady M: There are times, like now, when the only way I can cope is to believe that all the material has been sent by God as blog-fodder.

I Beatrice said...

I'm not even going to BEGIN to tell you how we used to have to manage these things in New Zealand in the Fifties.

You have only to put those two things together, really - New Zealand and the Fifties - to see what a rotten time we had of it, and how many were the things we had to pretend just didn't happen.

The young girls of today - they just don't what acute embarrassment is!

Omega Mum said...

IB: Did I know that you grew up in NZ? Perhaps I did. Now that would be a riveting read..embarrassing moments and all. Go on!

"Moaning Mum" said...

Only one thing for it - have boys. Then you'll only have to contend with sticky CLEAR substances on sheets and loads of manky tissues...poor you :)

Expat mum said...

Superdrug used to sell tiny little purple SCENTED plastic bags for the very purpose of safe and sanitary disposal. I stocked up two years ago but couldn't find them anywhere last summer. However, what I do use are scented nappy bags. I know it may not make much difference if she's that flakey tho'. How about telling her a male member of the household is going to be emptying the bins from now on?

Ladybird World Mother said...

Glued to screen throughout your post... mixture of total horror and dreadful giggles... have a daughter... oh, no, is this going to happen to me too? Exit Nostalgic Thoughts of Getting Dog.
Great post!!

Cath said...

PS - NOT taking you up on your son/ daughter swap. No way. Sorry.

Omega Mum said...

Moaning Mum. I have one son. I can hardly contain my excitement (and by the sounds of it, let's hope he can contain his).

Expat Mum. She is without shame and, indeed, purple scented bags, too.

Ladybird: Get dog. Get teenage daughter. Just not both at the same time. And consider boarding school from age of 2.

Cath: Please???????

Roshni said...

Hi! I just came across your blog via the Belgian Waffle.. so this is the first post I'm reading... and I'm so glad that you're my kind of blogger!!!
Also, reminds me of MY teen years when I used to stain all the pillows in the house (yes, I used to sit on pillows.. don't ask!)
Do visit my blog when you have time!

flutterby said...

Here's a bit of trivia. According to a book I read a few months ago, women did not begin wearing any sort of underwear (panties, bloomers) until sometime around the 1830s. That includes not wearing anything during periods. I leave it to your imagination to fill in any blanks.

bevchen said...

Just came here from Belgian Waffle.
This is hilarious!! Probably not when you're the one having to deal with it, but from where I am HILARIOUS!