Bitch on the Blog

June 20, 2013

Dead end

Blogging, or rather commenting on blogs, has taught me limitations. It’s not a lesson I welcome. But there it is. The result being that when I’d like to spit – in answer to some totally inane opinions – I will not (any longer) do so. Or rather I will, but only in the privacy of my own earshot. Herculean efforts on my part are being made every day to keep the lid on the pan and not let the pressure cooker and its contents be splattered round comment boxes. The only person who has to clear up the mess is myself. Which I don’t mind. I am not exactly lazy and perfectly happy to live with any fallout. Even the toilet has once more given up the will to flush.

But then it’s not about ME, is it? It’s about others. And who am I to tell people that parenthood sure does bring out the little Hitlers in so many, too many? Moi? Not on your nelly. I’d like to. In fact, I am dying to do so. Not least to rescue those poor little blighters subjected to giants in their lives at knee cap height. Do still my beating heart. And I will take a deep breath and hold it. After all, one needs to carefully judge how many friends and foes one can handle. Many a Pyrrhic victory has been won only to find oneself in exile nevertheless. Better men than me have been left to rot because they didn’t know when to quit.

Anyway, a woman’s distractions are many and mine, thank God, this minute being the kitchen. No, not to scrape leftovers off the walls but start a fresh delight.

Hugs and kisses,




  1. I can’t resist the temptation either!

    “My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky:
    So was it when my life began;
    So is it now I am a man;
    So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die!
    The Child is father of the Man;
    And I could wish my days to be
    Bound each to each by natural piety.”

    ~ William Wordsworth.

    Very often, the fifth line is quoted out of context and is almost always misunderstood as the child of someone becoming the parent to that someone in the latter’s old age. While to some extent this is true in my case in that, my son now parents me around, I still believe that Wordsworth was right in that, in our old age, we recollect what we learnt as children and the awe of those early impressions do not go away. The nurturing process, positive and negative, leave deep impressions on one’s psyche and one cannot run away from those impressions unless one takes deliberate steps to change them to suit current realities.

    I am already in that stage of my days being bound each to each by natural piety and I react differently to writings on parenting than most people because of the influence that this one poem has had on me from my school days, when not my curriculum or teachers, but my uncle who was a Professor of English Literature taught me this poem and its meaning when he was just a man yet to grow old and die. I suspect that he enjoyed having a captive and admiring audience in me.

    I wonder what my son would say when he is my age.

    And to make another point, my distractions too are many and mine, thank God, this minute, being the kitchen. No, not to scrape leftovers off the walls, but to start a fresh delight, a nice pasta salad for dinner as my usual fruit is not very appealing this glorious rain free evening. I will go back to dieting tomorrow.

    Comment by Rummuser — June 20, 2013 @ 15:59 | Reply

    • Ramana, what stung me among some of your commentators – not necessarily their fault – how ‘punishment’ in a certain generation seems acceptable.

      As to my own credentials: The Angel made it so very easy for me to be the wonderful mother everyone proclaims me to be. I am not a wonderful mother. I am just me. The Angel is who he is. And if he had been the devil I sure hope I’d risen to the occasion. And not become some slave to frustrated parental ambition taking it out on him.

      I gulped at GM’s making her daughter clean the toilet as ‘punishment’. As survival skills go how to clean a toilet (efficiently) should be learnt as part of socialization into family life, and latest before you fly the nest. Punishment? No. Then there is Maxi who says she pushed her THREE months old daughter’s hands AWAY, reiterating ‘No, No’. WHAT? To me that is … well. During one of the developmental check ups on infants they do here in the UK, I was asked: “Does he understand the word ‘no’?” Come again? I was glad to answer that the word NO does not feature in my vocabulary (he was about two then). There are more ways than one to teach one’s child that putting wet fingers into an electrical socket is not such a good idea. And “no” is not one of them.

      If I appear harsh on this subject it’s because I am. The way some people treat those Davids to their Goliath is abominable. Every time I set foot out of the house I feel sorrow. For yet another poor little sod whose parents can’t engage with him/her other than by constant constant constant reprimands. Take one example: “Don’t touch. Don’t touch. Don’t touch.” For heaven’s sake: How else is a child (new to this world) to learn other than by touching? In the German language there is the expression “begreifen”. Its most general meaning “to understand”. But ‘greifen’ also means to take something into your hands, feel it, maybe in the case of a nine months old put it in its mouth. Yes, yuck. But there it is. Begreifen. Trying to make sense, to understand – whether it’s a cube, a cat’s fur or a concept. A parent’s duty to safeguard a child. You do not do that by saying NO. You put a safety plug into that socket till the child is old enough to understand that using an electric hairdryer whilst in the bath is not a good idea.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — June 21, 2013 @ 11:20 | Reply

      • PS Sorry, Ramana, got so carried away with my train of thought completely forgot about your Wordsworth: I too like that line. I interpret it that a child’s temperament will give you a good indication as to the man he will become. Unadulterated as it were. And lucky those whose parents – if so inclined – can’t screw with their minds.


        Comment by bitchontheblog — June 21, 2013 @ 11:25 | Reply

  2. Hmmm – methinks you’ve added parenting to the other supposed sacred cows of discussion – religion and politics – LOL. The first 2 topics I enjoy debating – the third? Not so much so I’ll just leave it at that and make another pot of coffee. And have you ever noyioced how you get nearly the same result with a crock pot as you do with a pressure cooker?

    Comment by Chuck McConvey — June 20, 2013 @ 16:35 | Reply

    • Yes, Shackman, I agree. The holy trinity of subjects best avoided unless with good friends. Even then: Stand by for slaughter.

      My affair with pressure cooker short lived. Not so much dinners’ three night stand as total disappointment. Not least because they make such a frightful hissing noise. And you can’t see what’s happening; taste what’s happening. And anyway: In how much rush can one be? Slowly slowly does it. And if you are in a rush: Have a banana. Since we are in the confessional: I don’t entertain a microwave either.

      Crock pot is good. Le Creuset even better. And heavier.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — June 21, 2013 @ 10:47 | Reply

  3. Since you advise not reacting to blogs, I won’t. But if I were to react, I would have to note the following:

    Only Asian Tiger Moms know how to do proper parenting.

    Comment by Looney — June 21, 2013 @ 03:44 | Reply

    • Looney, I do not advise “not reacting to blogs”. It’s just, well, you know, where once upon a time you were expected to thrash your opponent in a game of squash (figuratively speaking) these days, on blogs, even careful Angels will need some daring to tread. Since I am not an Angel, not even a cat burglar, home contents’ and third party insurance highly recommended. The no claim’s bonus has its own rewards. If only boredom.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — June 21, 2013 @ 10:53 | Reply

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