There’s a meme that is doing the rounds at the moment, and if you’re a Mum and on Facebook you’ve probably had it pop up in your feed once or twice:

A little slice of Mother Guilt anyone?  Come on, just one more tiny wafer….

And rightly so, I say, because a lot of you are screwing up aren’t you?  Maybe not in astronomical ways, but in little, insidious ways every single day.  Sometimes without even realising, you are messing up your children’s brains and lives forever.

But not over here.  Up here (on the moral and ethical high ground) the view is perfect.  Over at The Asher House we are all neat, kind, well-mannered, successful, happy, wise, talented and, well, perfect.

I have delved into the archives my phone to find documents to regale and impress you.  And of course prove my superiority.

Exhibit A:

I found this little love note on Liam’s desk a few years ago.  Ahh Liam, my gorgeous, quiet, gentle-soul of a son.  In case you can’t read it, it is poignantly entitled Liam’s Revenge and even better than a sonnet, it is more of a To-Do list.  A list wondrous things that he will do to his little (then 4 year old) sister.  Just quietly, I was relieved to find the note and be alerted to the plans of the PSYCHOPATH before Check Box One was completed.  Please note the tasks Three and Four: “Brake (sic) the things she makes” and “Call her names” have been successfully performed.  We are so proud to have such a committed high-achiever for a son.  I think most of the pundits would agree that goal setting and completion of tasks are the marks greatness…. Or perhaps it is vengeance that is the sign.  Obliterate the competition.

Exhibit B:

Coco has just started violin lessons, which makes our ears bleed brings much joy to our home.  This morning I was pleased and impressed to see she has penned her very first song.  It is without a title so far, but I think you will agree, it is the work of a prodigy.  There is a fair bit of crossing out, so perhaps the final words are still under review, but the chorus is truly wonderful.

In case the meaning escapes you the lyric is:

Verse:

Pop, cha cha

Fart, cha cha

They mean the same thing

They come out of people’s bums.

Chorus:

La La La La

La La La La

La La La La

(The chorus went on for quite a while, like any good ‘pop’ song… see what I did there?)

So there you have it, THAT is what perfection looks (and smells) like.  If you feel like you aren’t keeping up, feel free to drop me a line.  I think this year I’ll run some courses on pyshco and maestro hot-housing.  I’m clearly onto something.

Ah, AHEM, it’s my birthday this month too you know.  It came and went without even a purr this year.  That was noted, my lovely family, oh yes, it was noted.  I am not happy.  Not that this is news.  I am pretty much always at least marginally pissed off.  I don’t like, well, anything much really.

The four things I do like:

• Peeing right on the edge of the path, so when I dig it in, a bit of soil goes on to that path- it gives the Woman something to sweep up.
• Rubbing against the Woman’s legs when she is wearing black pants- the fluffy bits that stay on her leg are very pretty.  I try to make patterns.
• Scratching on the bedroom doors at night until I hear the Boy and the Girl stir a little- such a satisfying noise (Both the scratching and the waking.  Zing.)
• Staying awake most of the night and making things mysteriously fall from spots on high, then sleeping on the Man’s pillow most of the day.

That’s about it I think.

The Man and the Woman really don’t like me much, and that’s fine, I don’t like them either, but they are warm.  So I usually try to sleep on either one’s legs most nights.  I used to sleep on the Man’s chest, until he launched me right into the full-length mirror one night.  I got just one glimpse of my own startled eyes before I whacked into it.  So I’m more cautious these days.  More stealthy too.  It’s good for my instincts, because God knows I’m bloody hopeless at catching wildlife.  So far all I’ve managed are a few geckos and cockroaches.  I can take or leave the geckos, stupid clickity-slimy things they are, but the ‘roaches are bloody lovely.  All crunchy on the outside, with a gooey centre.  I can’t come at the wings though, so I leave them lying around for the Woman to clean up.  Reminds her of what a useful pet I am, in case she is getting ideas, if you get my meaning.

So, about the birthday celebration, or lack thereof.  I heard the Girl ask if she could get me something, and the Woman said no, I wouldn’t even know it was my birthday, I was “just” a cat.  The Girl secretly took me off into her room and gave me a tea-party anyway.  It was a bit shit really, no actual tea, or party, for that matter, but at least she didn’t dress me up in that ridiculous pink hat and make me sit in the doll’s pram. (I’m too big for that thing.)

I started my vengeance last night: knocked over an ornament and climbed back onto the bed every time the Man kicked me off. You should’ve seen me, I was relentless.

And this is just the beginning, dear friends, just the beginning….

Tonight: my bum and the kitchen bench have a meeting.

I’ll keep you updated.

You.Just.Wait.

Do you have an evil pet?