A couple of times a year a gaggle of us all get together to celebrate one of my 'honory'mums birthday with a family BBQ.
As the years have gone by there have been more kids born and less husbands/partners that have stuck around . There may be a direct link.
We start of with good intentions, cooing over eachothers kids and wiping the kids grubby hands from sticky sauces and lollipops. What we end up with is barefoot ferral children beating the shit out of eachother while we practicaly free poor vodka into each others mouths.
Its these times that Summer doesnt seem so mental. We may all be broken home families but together we are one big beautiful dysfunctional family. We have Cheryl and Lyn - the young grandmas, who I havent seen sober since 1995, Gay Michael, Gay Jarvo (who isnt gay but I'm sure will come out when he realises none of us will sleep with him) Lisa and her kids, one autistic and one aspergers (say no more), Mary and her 2 boistrous boys who arent happy unless they have someone in a headlock. Sarah and Rachel (not lesbians but sisters) and there 4 beautiful children all under 4. Finaly Aunty Clare who is yet to have kids but the only one of us with a maternal bone in her body (again, I'm sure there is a link there) put us all together with vodka,fags and E numbers and its like a being in the very worst most roughest council estate, we would shame Shameless. Single mothers, booze and 9 kids that resemble a Dulux paint colour chart. (Jesus, I see now why we are all single) We zip them into the trampoline and let them fend for themselves. Its like watching Roman Gladiators fight lions at the colossium. Us mums sit at a good distance, watching them tear chunks off eachother, while Gay Jarvo goes into the pit to pull out the bleeding broken ones. Things usualy peak around 9 when the kids are wildly tired and the mums and gays are drunk. I have never met Lyns neighbours but they are either deaf,dead or on holiday because the sound is like hyeenas on acid, shrieking kids, drunken divas (the gays) and stressed out pissed up mother, if I lived next door I would call the police.
It always , always ends badly... the kids are grubby and realising the impending neglect gather the youngest and seek shelter inside, the nanas are pissed on the trampoline (until it breaks), we cry and then get angry over husbands/boyfriends of yester year, discuss things like shitting in a birthing pools and the stitching up of flappy fannies, and then Gay Jarvo tries to dry hump us all.
This is us and our kids, all different colours,abilities and disablities. We are the middle classes nightmare. We are noisey and brash,we couldnt care less who's child is the brightest, most talented, because this is our version of family. I know that if Summer ever killed me and buried me in the garden that these women would step in my shoes,risk their own lives and take Summer under their wings.
Happy Birthday Lynne the original scummy mummy x x