Fun with Filial Piety

At the ripe old age of 30 + x, there could finally be a time when it would be good to start giving The Mother blank signed cheques so that she can take money out of my bank account whenever she wants.

I started doing that about a year ago, and she's already cleaned me out twice.

This month, she wrote cheques that in total not only exceeded the amount I told her she could take out, it also exceeded my monthly salary.

At the riper older age of 60 + x, she should at least have some concept of positive and negative balances. Just because she still has blank signed cheques in her possession doesn't mean that there is still money in my bank account.

I am so mad my hair is starting to curl outwards. I started this morning off with the usual list of bills to pay, except that right now I'm not quite sure HOW they are going to get paid this month.

To add insult to injury, she made a typographical error in one of the cheques (number does not match words) and it bounced, which means the bank will deduct another S$30 from my account.

In other news, I organised an Easter Egg Hunt in the house, just for The Son, thereby guaranteeing that no one else is in competition to find those Easter Eggs. The problem is that just after I hid those 5 Easter Eggs, I forgot where I put the last 2, and then we really had to hunt them down.

The worst thing about pregnancy brain-fog is that it's not so foggy that you forget that you are becoming forgetful. You know that you're forgetful, but you still keep forgetting anyway. How humiliating is it that I actually needed to write down where I put 5 Easter Eggs in my own living room.

In the 2nd round of Easter Egg hunting, The Son put forward the daring proposition that we should try hiding 8 Easter Eggs this time around. I well and truly could not locate the last one and we had to retrace my footsteps.

But other than being robbed by my own mother and having chunks of my brain take long leave, this Good Friday weekend was a fine one.