Biscuits; they are the bane of my life. Well, them and my mother actually. I’m not at all saying my mother is a total pain in the you-know-what, but when it comes to biscuits she really is.
Living next door to my mother for the past year and a bit has been fantastic. Having the kids around has given her a new lease of life, and I’m so happy Aidan and Sarah now have a close relationship with their granny.
From my perspective, it’s a load off my mind to be so close to her. She’s a widow, I’m an only child and the mammy would have some health issues. When I lived away from her, I frequently worried about her, so that’s a big load off my mind now.
It’s also rather handy having a babysitter right next door. Not only does she mind the kids, but she also minds the dog when myself and Daddy Chambers aren’t around to do so. It’s a pretty good set-up.
Myself and my mother rarely argue these days, but each and every day she makes my blood boil. I’ve tried to argue with her about it, but it gets me nowhere so I’m just resigned to it now.
I’m convinced her house is a secret biscuit factory. I’m sure she’s manufacturing Custard Creams and Jammy Dodgers when we sleep at night. Her supply is endless.
Now there’s never a plain biscuit, like a Rich Tea or a Digestive, to be seen. Oh no, the ones she supplies are the most sugar and fat-laden ones you can buy. My kids will happily eat a plain one or seven, but my mammy only supplies ‘the best’ for her precious grandchildren.
I’m frequently asked first thing in the morning, by one or the other or even both kids, “can I go to granny’s for a biscuit?”
This could be a request submitted to me at 6am on a Tuesday morning, and it’s always met with a stern “no” from myself.
However, if I said yes, they would be off through the garden like a shot and granny would happily get up out of her warm bed and dole out the biscuits to them. Does it make me angry? Yes. Have I had arguments with her over it? Yes. Do said arguments make any difference? Not a bit so by arguing I am only annoying myself.
Last Wednesday morning the kids got up, dressed and had their breakfast as normal. I then scurried off to my room to throw on some clothes, brush my teeth and brush my hair.
On my return down the hall I found Aidan sitting on the sofa watching a cartoon, but Sarah was nowhere to be seen. I just figured she was down in the playroom pottering around and entertaining herself, which she frequently does.
Then, when it came time to head out the door for school, I let a roar out to the pair of them to put on their coats and shoes. Aidan stood to order, but there wasn’t a sound from the playroom. It was then that I discovered that Sarah took a trip down the garden to Granny’s place. She heard me calling for her and in she came to get her stuff for school.
“Did you eat any biscuits out in granny’s?” says I to her. Her response was a resounding “no”, but the chocolate surrounding her little mouth said otherwise. She attempted to convince me it was crumbs from burned toast, that was stuck on her face but, God damnit, I know chocolate when I see it!
So my four-year-old went off to school full of chocolate digestives, God knows how many of them, and I was anything but pleased. The teacher probably wasn’t pleased either, when the sugar rush hit her wee pupil. Thank God she wasn’t my responsibility until 2pm!
The two kids I look after mid-week now are also well versed in granny’s generosity with the biscuits too. They leap out of my car the second we return home from school, and are in like Flynn for their stash.
I wouldn’t mind if it was just one biscuit, but some days the numbers aren’t capped at all!
I hope they are not telling their parents about the mad auld one out the back with all the biscuits because I doubt they would be best pleased either!
And to make it all the more ironic — do you know what granny has? Fecking well diabetes! Sigh.
Until next week, folks!
You can contact me on firstname.lastname@example.org; Twitter - @_itsjustaphase_; Instagram - @itsjustaphaseblog, or you’ll find more of my musings at www.itsjustaphase.ie.