Lets get this outta the way first. Dawn asked me to come and blog sit, despite the fact that I am a foul mouthed shoe whoring AUSTRALIAN. Yeah, you don’t get much more out there than that. So given the opportunity to flagellate someone else’s blog is well, freaking sweet baby. Will try to keep my potty mouth in check.

Oh and introduce myself. Yeah, I always forget that bit. Cause like everyone knows me already *snort* and most conversations start with ‘Oh. My. God I love your shoes’ cause I have awesome shoes. All the time. Which by osmosis makes me awesome. And awesome, thy name is Kelley and thy blog is Magneto Bold Too!

Anyway.

While wracking my brain trying to think of something appropriate to blog about I look around my home.

It is 10pm.

My son, Boo, screams out menacingly ‘ I SAID Pull. My. Finger!’ to no one in particular. But he is adamant.
My eldest daughter Moo is camera whoring with her best friend. Dressed in an bizarre assortment of clothes, hair teased till standing on end and enough black eyeliner and shadow to put any Emo to shame they are posturing in front of the digital camera. Looking for the perfect ‘look’ for their MySpace page.

Too talking to her boyfriend on MSN, texting her BFF and sitting in the dark.

Yes, my friends, I am enduring the teenage years. With a son who is in a permanent state of toddlerhood (he has Autism) but almost as tall as me. Husband an IT dude by day, rockin’ DJ at night and a bunny that we are dead freaking certain has Tourettes. Good thing she doesn’t have the ability to produce sound or I would lose my Queen of the Potty Mouth crown.

And I just polished the bastard.

I spent hours today cleaning my kitchen, only to have the mongrel hordes ravenous teenagers destroy it in a matter of minutes. Even though ‘there is nothing to EEEEAAATTT’ they found enough to make a freaking mess.

It is school holidays here, therefore my house becomes partay central. I have lost count of the number of floppy haired boys and skimpy clothed girls have worshipped at the altar of Guitar Hero in my family room in the last couple of days. And various bodies that a strewn around the house while I gulp my latte on my way out to work in the morning. Hair all colours of the rainbow.

Or the calls, emails and texts at work about how ‘I neeeeeed’ this or ‘I haaaaaave to’ go here and ‘will you pleeeeeease drive me’ here or pick up so and so from there.

And there is nothing to eaaaaat.

Parents of toddlers, don’t worry about saving for your childs college tuition. No, you need to save to pay for the fuel for your car, wear and tear on the tyres, mobile phone bills, mountains of clothes for the numerous changes throughout the day and the never ending procession in and out of the refrigerator . The coffee to keep you awake for the 1am pick ups from far flung parties, the hair dye to cover the grey hairs sprouting after a 40 year old man openly ogles your 16 year old daughter. In. Front. Of. You.

And wine. Lots and lots of wine.

After enduring a discussion on whether so and so is hotter than so and so, and why so and so is such a ho, Moo says ‘Mum! I have a joke! What did the farmer say when he lost his tractor?’

I have visions of something totally inappropriate flying out of my daughters mouth.

‘I dunno’

‘Horses don’t have handlebars’

I nearly wet myself laughing it is so stupid. We hold each other up, along with other ring in’s laughing harder and louder at the various degrees of red faces and ‘Mutley laughs’.

Then it is time to watch a movie.

One of the ring in’s calls out “Hey Kel! You coming?’

‘Nah, I have to go and put Boo to bed’

‘We’ll wait’

And they do.

A loungeroom full of 14-16 year olds save me the best chair. And hand me chocolate.
Teens are not bad creatures after all.

But shit can they EAT!