I rolled over in bed this morning and was promptly greeted with ‘I am so mad at you’.
Eep! What had I done this time? Oh, that’s right. I was the hostess that fell asleep at her own party – leaving The Swede to tend with all of the guests (my guests). Again.
Being in the dog house is not my idea of a good time. In fact, I hate it. Why? Because it means either (a) I am in the wrong; or (b) something isn’t going my way. And seeing as I am never wrong and everything always goes my way, my little psyche falls into a pit of confusion and immediately runs into overdrive, desperately trying to rectify an incomprehensible situation using any means possible.
The Swede firmly enforces that looking sad will not lend me leniency this time. My bottom lip quivered. Damn. Crying wasn’t going to work either.
I spent the remainder of the morning dragging my feet up and down the apartment, trying my best to look as miserable as possible and releasing audible sighs every five minutes. Hours passed: still nothing. What had I done to deserve such cruelty? Oh, wait…
This is not behaviour that I am proud of. However, sadly, it is not new to me. In one form or another, it is something that I have practiced from a young age. I call it the art of getting what I want. The Swede has another term for it.
Aged 2: Awake at 6:00AM. The Parents are getting ready for work. What do they think this is? I want to play. I cry. It fails. Perhaps screaming will work? It doesn’t. I jam my little fingers down my throat and vomit all over the wall and through the sheets. Success.
Aged 5: A sister? This must be a mistake. I poke her as she sleeps. She doesn’t deserve rest. Crap, they are onto me. Sister is moved out of reach. I spend hours formulating a climbing strategy. I finally make it. I drag the bassinet towards the high ledge. Mumford comes in. My plan is ruined. Maybe next time.
Aged 7: I only hit my friend because she hit me first. Why should I have to go to my room? There is no justice in this world. I sob loudly. No one feels sorry for me. I move onto phase two. I trash my bedroom. I get a smack. A small price to pay for freedom. Mumford banishes me to the great outdoors. Success.
The Swede eventually softens and wraps me into a tight hug. He probably feels less forgiving and more sorry for his sniffling embarrassment of a partner. I look him directly in the eye and tell him it won’t happen again, even though I know it will.
I had won. Behind the puppy dog eyes I was throwing a self-congratulatory party in my head.
Alas, my stupid conscience gets the better of me and I did what I knew would ultimately cement the peace. I whipped up some guacamole and put on the football.
Finally. Beaten at my own game…but at least the guacamole was good.
Keep the Peace Guacamole
3 ripe avocados
Juice of 1 large lime
1/2 red onion, finely diced
1/4 bunch coriander, chopped
Handful of cherry tomatoes, halved
To serve: handful of picked coriander leaves
De-stone the avocados and scoop their soft flesh into a serving bowl. Roughly mash with the back of a fork (don’t go overboard – I like to keep a bit of texture) before squeezing in the lime juice. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
Add the diced red onion, chopped coriander and halved cherry tomatoes. Stir well to combine. Taste again to check seasoning, adding more lime juice, sea salt or pepper if needed. Scatter picked coriander leaves over the top and serve immediately with corn chips or a selection of crunchy veggies.
NB: If I am feeling a little wild, I change the flavours up to give my guacamole an Asian flavour twist. I replace the red onion with two finely chopped spring onions. I also cut back on the sea salt and instead season with 1/2 a teaspoon light soy sauce, 1/2 a teaspoon of toasted sesame oil and 1 teaspoon of wasabi paste (or to taste). Add a touch of salt if necessary and serve topped with picked coriander leaves and black sesame seeds.