Things that make me VERY CRANKY #213: “I’m late. I’m never late.”

A giant hand attempts to eat my face moments after I learn that I'm pregnant with Moses.

“I’m late. I’m never late.”

If someone was to make a list of phrases that have been used more than any others in all movies and TV shows over the last however-many years, I’m sure this one would make the top 10. Maybe top 20, if you include movies/TV shows that aren’t likely to include unexpected-pregnancy storylines. The line “I’m late. I’m never late” drives. me. BONKERS. If a character in something I’m watching says, “I’m late. I’m never late,” I immediately dock a whole star from my review, no matter how good the movie/show was before the line or is afterwards; a film or show that is perfect in every single way except for dropping “I’m late. I’m never late” at some point will never earn more than a 4/5 from me, no siree. I shouldn’t hear “I’m late” and then be able to mouth the follow-up line along with a character in a story I’ve never seen before. This shouldn’t happen! I’m shocked it still happens! Why are characters still saying “I’m late. I’m never late,” after all these years of characters saying “I’m late. I’m never late”? WHY?!?!?!?!?!

Sure, maybe all female movie/TV writers have crazily clockwork-like menstrual cycles and therefore think it’s perfectly natural to have their character divulge her suspected pregnancy by adding “I’m never late” to “I’m late.” (Or maybe these lines are written by men, who’ve seen women say this repeatedly in TV shows and movies for the past however-many years and therefore think this is something females are biologically programmed to say in this situation?) BUT, even if this were the case, the fact that every single woman who ever says the line, “I’m late” in a movie or TV show invariably follows this with “I’m never late” means that just for the sake of being unclichéd, unpredictable and not-boring, more writers need to STOP at “I’m late” and RETHINK THE NEXT LINE. If your character really has to say, “I’m late,” rather than, you know, “I think I might be pregnant,” then COME UP WITH AN ORIGINAL NEXT LINE, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD. For example:

“I’m late. Which is kinda weird for me, so… I mean, it’s possible I’m pregnant.” 

“I’m late. I realise this on its own is not a sure sign of pregnancy, but my pee smells strange and I’m crying for no reason right now, so… yeah.”

“I’m late. No, I mean, I’m not late, I’m right on time, but my period’s late. What do you mean, ‘So?’ Have you not seen the movies? Do you seriously not know what I’m suggesting right now?!”

“I’m late. This happens all the time, actually, because my cycle’s all over the shop… I’m not entirely sure why I brought this up, to be honest. Carry on.”

IT’S NOT THAT DIFFICULT.

Cake

I never thought we’d be a novelty-cake-making family, but Alan’s fish cake (fish-shaped cake, really; it was actually made mostly from chocolate) opened the fun-cake floodgates and now we can’t seem to stop (except on my birthday; my birthday = pavlova, every year).

Mo decided he wanted a digger cake months before his birthday last year; we showed him a few images of others’ efforts on the internet, and then told him we were going to use them as inspiration rather than copy one exactly, and he’d have to wait until his birthday party to see the final result.

We were pretty excited about the grand unveiling, expecting Mo’s face to light up with amazement and joy over our efforts. His first response? “I WANTED YOU TO PUT ALLLLLLLLL THE DIGGERS ON THERE, NOT JUST TWO.” 

This year we were stuck for ideas for both Hazel’s and Mo’s birthdays. Hazel liked Emma Wiggle (too fan-ish), dogs (too difficult/weird-looking) and, fortunately, marshmallows (we went with this option). One thing I love about making novelty cakes is the fact that it often involves Alan and I in the kitchen very late at night, over-tired and giggling over ridiculous things (in this case, how many ways a chopped-up marshmallow can look like genitalia) and wondering why we don’t just make a regularly-iced cakes like normal people. This was the end result of Hazel’s marshmallow cake:

I loved how the marshmallows and sprinkles turned out, but I wish we’d made a light-coloured buttercream frosting instead of sticking with the regular chocolate one. Hazel thought it was pretty awesome, mismatched top and bottom notwithstanding.

Deciding on Mo’s cake was even harder. I wanted to surprise him with cakes that looked like Lego blocks, but he was keen on the idea of a Ninja Turtle cake, and instead of telling him - “Moses, my dear, darling boy - you don’t even know who the Ninja Turtles are! You only love the idea of them because your friends are into them, but wouldn’t you prefer for us to make you something that you actually love, so that in 15 years’ time you can look back at photos of your fifth birthday and say, ‘Oh, did I used to love Lego?’ and we can say ‘YES!’???!” - instead of telling him that, Alan said, “OKAY!”

When he first decided to go with the Ninja Turtle cupcake idea, I thought I’d stick with the Lego-block cake idea and we could have a bake-off, but then I realised that would mean both a lot of work and a lot of cake, so I stepped back and left Alan to his crazy plan. He ignored all warnings we’d been given about the difficulties of fondant and spent three nights leading up to Mo’s birthday dying it, then baking the cake, and whipping up buttercream frosting. I stepped in and rescued him when it came to face-painting, having recognised that Alan was nearing breaking point and desperately wishing we’d gone with the Lego idea (I might have misread this, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was going through his mind at that point). I decided to mix up the emotions so that they didn’t all look cranky (which was the original plan).

They were too sweet even for the kids (which is a worry), and they’d taken approximately 20 hours to put together, but they looked pretty cool, and the texture of the fondant, buttercream, and cupcake together was so good (Alan used this recipe).

We have a year to recover and plan for the next lot.

Regards, Anxiety

Dear Brain/Stomach,

Hiya! I wanted to let you know that the medication you’re taking made me sick for a few months earlier this year (I had to lay low while I recovered), but I’m feeling much stronger now and am quite keen to get back to work. I fear some decisions have been made without full consideration during my absence; I won’t let that happen again.

I know you’ve been preoccupied with study for the last little while, but now that the class is over I expect you’ll have some time to think over the following concerns I’ve been trying to raise with you recently (see previous emails from August, September, and earlier this month). I’m particularly interested in addressing the issues I foresee with Moses starting school next year (we can move on to Hazel and the chances of Alan’s business suddenly going bankrupt once these have been adequately mulled over). It would be great if you could turn your attention to the attached points ASAP.

Regards,

Anxiety

from here

POINTS OF CONCERN

1. How are you going to manage to get out the door at the same time every morning in order to ensure Mo’s at school within the 15 minute drop-off window?  
2. What if Mo’s school is terrible and you scar him for life by sending him there?
3. What if Mo hates the extra time away from home and seems devastated about the idea of going each morning, and what if this lasts for an entire term or more, as others have told you to expect? 
4. What if the work isn’t challenging enough? 
5. What if the work is too challenging? 
6. What if Mo’s teachers are hard to get along with?
7.  What if Mo doesn’t make new friends? 
8. What if Moses makes friends with kids who I don’t really like, and starts behaving more like them? 
9. What if Mo’s bullied? 
10. What if Mo’s a bully?
11. What if you do reeeeally badly in your final essay thanks (in part) to your ridiculous stuff-up, and this lowers your overall mark for the subject and, consequently, your GPA, and then no university will want to accept your Honours application and the whole course therefore turns out to have been a waste of your (and my) time and all your dreams about working as a psychologist come crashing down? (I’m sorry, I know I said we were focussing on Moses, but this is really bothering me right now and I couldn’t help myself; think on this for a bit, will you? Preferably before sleep, for an hour or two.)
12. Will the 20 minute drive to and from school every day be enjoyable (it is the only time you find out what’s going on in the world), or increasingly annoying?
13. Will your study days feel frustratingly short if they’re fit in between two 40 minute drives at each end of the day?
14.  If the answer to questions 11 and 12 is ‘increasingly annoying’ and ‘yes’, should you consider moving closer to Mo’s school/Hazel’s preschool, or would a move be the last thing any of you need in an already-stressful year?
15. The limited amount of not-in-school time will mean that extra-curricular activities need to be considered carefully: 

• How will you cope with regular afternoon/weekend activities if having two plans per week currently makes you feel nervous? How much stress will multiple deadlines (school start time, activity start times) add? 
• Which activities will you choose? Should you go with one sport and one music activity, just one of those options, or neither? If Moses has no interest in either sport or music, how long should count as having “given it a go”? Should he have to give it a go at 5, or is that too young? 
• What if Mo would be a brilliant drummer or swimmer if he focussed on those, but you instead sign him up for guitar and soccer? What if he wants to do all of these things? Given that lots of people who are now very good at what they do say they started doing it when they were aged 5, what happens if Moses misses this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be an olympian/superstar, and it’s all because of you.
• If, on the other hand, you go with the piano option at school, which seems to involve a lot of parental input, will this mean you spend a lot of your time nagging Moses to practice, and will this end up making you want to die? 
• How much will these activities cost, both money- and time-wise? Will they be worth the cost? 
• Does Hazel participate in these activities too, or does she just watch? What happens when Hazel’s old enough to participate and she and Moses choose different sports/instruments? 

I’m sure I haven’t covered all possible things to be fretted over; please feel free to add to the list as you come up with more. I look forward to going over these with you, again and again. And again. Thanks, A.