Little Bastards and Instant Regret.
Some days it just gets too much. The constant care and attention. The coaxing. The financial cost. The time. The love. And some days you just feel you get so little back. And something just snaps. And you instantly regret it, but you know you can't take it back.
My head and chest are throbbing with the controlled un-controllableness. I crouch down in front of both the little bastards. And it just starts
Me: Do you think I fucking do this for fun? Fucking do you? I didn't really want either of you in the first place. I just mentioned it to Tired Mam once on a whim and now here you fucking are.
So we're stuck with it. But do you know what? I think I'm making the effort. I care for you both. I support you. I make sure you're fed properly. Do you think that fucking formula is cheap?
I talk to you, care for. Take an interest It isn't easy you know. I put a lot of time into this. And what do I get back?
They both remain silent. I am not surprised.
Me: Fuck all, that's what. You're both a couple of selfish, greedy little shits. When you're poorly, who takes care of you?
Silence.
Me: Who makes sure you get plenty of sun? When your little arms get a bit weak, who supports them for you? Who took care of your greenfly?
Silence.
Me: ONE fucking tomato! Is that how you repay me? ONE, between the fucking two of you. I am making the effort here. YOU are taking the piss. Both of you. It's not even red! You've been here fucking WEEKS! What do you think you're playing at?
I can no longer bear to look at them. I storm into the house to play with my children.
Tired Mam: Hey your tomato plants are doing well! One of them has THREE tomatos now.
Me: Three?
TM: Yeah, the two flowers above the one big tomato have started to bear fruit. You wouldn't notice unless you were really looking.
Me: oh
I feel awful.
My head and chest are throbbing with the controlled un-controllableness. I crouch down in front of both the little bastards. And it just starts
Me: Do you think I fucking do this for fun? Fucking do you? I didn't really want either of you in the first place. I just mentioned it to Tired Mam once on a whim and now here you fucking are.
So we're stuck with it. But do you know what? I think I'm making the effort. I care for you both. I support you. I make sure you're fed properly. Do you think that fucking formula is cheap?
I talk to you, care for. Take an interest It isn't easy you know. I put a lot of time into this. And what do I get back?
They both remain silent. I am not surprised.
Me: Fuck all, that's what. You're both a couple of selfish, greedy little shits. When you're poorly, who takes care of you?
Silence.
Me: Who makes sure you get plenty of sun? When your little arms get a bit weak, who supports them for you? Who took care of your greenfly?
Silence.
Me: ONE fucking tomato! Is that how you repay me? ONE, between the fucking two of you. I am making the effort here. YOU are taking the piss. Both of you. It's not even red! You've been here fucking WEEKS! What do you think you're playing at?
I can no longer bear to look at them. I storm into the house to play with my children.
Tired Mam: Hey your tomato plants are doing well! One of them has THREE tomatos now.
Me: Three?
TM: Yeah, the two flowers above the one big tomato have started to bear fruit. You wouldn't notice unless you were really looking.
Me: oh
I feel awful.
posted by Tired Dad at
11:52 pm
6 Comments:
You feel awful? And so you should. Poor bastards; they need time, encouragement. They were waiting to show you some of their big red love, but no, you couldn't wait. You wanted it now, didn't you. Me, me, me.
I hate my tomato plant. It looks fucking awful. NO repsect.
I have fourteen of the fuckers (in my allotment). The slugs had a couple, but I think even they have more taste. Weedy little bastards.
Don't get me started on the pumpkins. I am soooo disappointed in them.
You want ingratitude? Try a gooseberry bush. Tend it, weed the ground, compost, wait, and then you get TWO berries. And they don't taste right, either.
The Dragon grows big tomatos in her greenhouse. She said "As long as I don't look at them they're fine". Tomato plants know.
*: I know I know. You can't make me feel worse than I do. 'Big red love' indeed. Like it.
RD: Looks don't count for much. I was about to say something about the pics round your gaff. (I am being naughty and mean no offence. Christ. I now feel the need to explain it when I do so.)
Sabrina(!): Hello again. You have an allotment?! Can I have it? I have a backyard. This is not a euphamism.
Amphimacer: Welcome. None of it tastes as good as the stuff from the supermarket. Ever. Don't bother is my advice. Takes less time to buy it.
Mr. Pie: You are quite quite right. I really haven't been trying as hard as I could.
Mr. Dinners: Is that the same philosophy as (when discussing children) 'if they're silent, then they are fine'? Both very valid I feel, but never likely to happen.
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