You make the best dinners, always make them with a ton of salt, always pile our plates far too high, yet have a potato and half a carrot on your own plate. You nit a jumper in thirty seconds flat and you always have something yummy in like biccies. That being said…. You can also be total arseholes…
Just because IN YOUR Day (dear Lord please never let me hear this phrase again) you had Terry toweling nappies, and your husband wasn’t allowed to the birth of your child, you raised 5 children singlehandedly whilst your other half went down the mines…. That’s no reason to tell us about how easy we have it or how we don’t know we’ve been born. You have not competed with a screaming newborn and fucking FIFA.
Your attitude on the bus when you hand over your free bus pass ‘HILDA LICENSE TO RIDE A BUS’ *said in policeman voice* does not mean you may take up the pushchair spaces with your stupid trolleys, loaded with humbugs and your little piece of material to clean your glasses. Usually we’ve waited 6 busses to get on a bus… To finally have to squeeze in next to you and Arthur usually complaining about your pension, who won’t move to any of the other free spaces. I mean WHY SHOULD YOU MOVE OUT OF THE PUSHCHAIR AREA ON THE BUS…. when there’s a pushchair… And empty seats. No.. Instead.. Just ignore our existence and say no if we ask you to budge over why don’t you?!
Also we know that in your day that their was no parent and child car parking spaces… Infact… In your day wasn’t it horse drawn carriage 🤔. Anyway.. That isn’t a reason for you to complain about us not needing them. ‘You don’t need them! We never had them in my day‘ guess what Diane,in your day it was also totally acceptable to call someone with special needs ‘backwards‘ and smoking and drinking whilst pregnant… Also totally accepted… Things have moved on, do you catch my drift.
I often see you oldies looking at me.. Talking about young mums. Young mums these days, having child after child and not being able to look after them, but then I remember I also hear… By the time I was 20 me and Derek had 6 and I raised them whilst Derek went to the factory , so please stop being hypocritical. I have a job and a child.
And my lovelys… Please stop standing in the middle of the aisle in sainsburys choosing which type of fucking porridge to have expecting me to magic a way around you. With my pram and heaps of shopping.(all of which you would claim isn’t real food) Then when I say excuse me… Look at me like some convinced fellon.
Just stick to worrying about which way you put your dentures in Dorothy.