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Last night a DJ saved my life

by on July 21, 2013

Last night a DJ saved my life. Honest.

Yesterday, bravely and boldly, I entered the batcave. Or, as the teenager likes to call it, her bedroom. I consider batcave to be more accurate. After all it is usually dark and gloomy, with strange and unsettling images on the walls (posters of people I haven’t heard of and worse still, photos of her friends) and the floor – well let’s just say I keep expecting David Attenborough to turn up with a TV crew and announce he has found a completely new life form in there. With my luck, it will probably be a version of Audrey 2 from ‘Little Shop of Horrors’. And then the batcave will be declared a Site of Special Scientific Interest, providing her another excuse not to clean up. I chickened out for once and after recovering a quantity of cups and plates, fled.

Anyway. I recently saw a reporter on TV talking about the terrible time some single mothers have. I in no way wish to diminish that: but who comes out on TV and tells how hard it can be for single fathers of teenage girls? There are whole new horrors to be considered. I mean, for a single mother to deal with a son can’t be that bad. What’s the worst? He takes to a life of crime? No problem! Give him some technical skills and without changing career path he can become a policeman, politician or a businessman. Bit of porn in the bedroom? No problem. He’s developing normally. Gay porn? Well, then you are one step ahead of the game for once: and can ruin his big confession moment by telling him you already know, so depriving him of a shock moment and getting your own back for once.

Lisbon edited 3

not quite as flimsy

But single fathers with teenage girls? We get a second hit of all the hormonal stuff just when we thought we’d escaped all that. Then there’s the washing. The endless washing. Well the time it takes seems endless but that’s probably because the used clothes only appear in the laundry basket intermittently and in such huge heaps they would probably qualify to be entered in the Munro list of Scottish Mountains. Sometimes the laundry manages to take more time than her phone calls, and that reminds me: I want shares in whichever phone company she’s using this month. More washing. Of scraps of material daughters think are underwear (and fathers don’t). Honestly, I ask you: why is it that the cost of their underwear is in inverse proportion to the material used? Where’s the logic in that?

Last night a DJ saved my life. How? She wanted to practice her dance moves, and that meant she had to tidy the bedroom and clear some floor space for the first time in ages. Saved me braving the batcave to do it for her. Got to go, I think that’s David Attenborough at the front door wanting to climb this mountain that’s appeared in the bathroom.

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8 Comments
  1. Being a single mother of teenage girls (well they’re not quite teenagers anymore!) and a teenage boy, I can tell you girls are definitely much more scary! 😀

  2. My boy is only 5 but some of the girls in his class are already scary.

  3. rebeccadouglass permalink

    LOL! I’m not a single mom, but I have two teen boys and I think the girls are all scary! Fortunately, so far my boys just think they are an alien life form probably best avoided, or treated like boys.

    • Ha! You wait, Rebecca, you wait…

      • rebeccadouglass permalink

        Eldest Son has just two more years of HighSchool, though his little brother is just starting. My hope is that they are as slow with this stuff as I was, and do most of it after they’ve moved out of the house so I don’t have to watch too closely.

  4. The beggars develop early these days!

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