Carol’s Column

Who hates Gertrude Ginkel?

EVERY mother has her cross to bear.

In my case it's Gertrude Ginkel.

Now Gertrude Ginkel is a super-mother. She always bakes cakes for the school cake sales.

She's a tuck mother, swimming mother, oranges-at-half-time mother.

She drives teams of children everywhere.

She's pawn person of the chess club, and best of all, she's catering mother for PTA meetings.

In her spare time she does scientology, believes fluoride is bad for her children's teeth and is a regular blood giver for emergency blood transfusions.

Her children are always clean and neat and smell of disinfectant.

They never go to school with socks-worn-three-days in a row, with holes in their underpants, buttonless, hair unbrushed and full of lice.

She never runs out of food, her car never runs out of petrol and her husband never runs out of money.

The Ginkel children carry bulging sandwich boxes stocked with fresh home-made bread sandwiches choc-a-bloc full of fresh, health fillings.

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And they all have cavity-free teeth that sparkle in the sunlight.

She's got sensational drip-dry hair, a wardrobe of genuine Guccis and a flat chest that on her looks superb.

Gertrude Ginkel always fetches her children on time, has never lost a child in supermarket, by accident or design and always remembers birthday presents.

She has three beautiful sterilised, freshly manicured thoroughbred dogs that never smell or muck all over the lawn before you have friends for a braai, a white siamese cat and a rat with his own rat box.

Her house is immaculate, her furniture polished, her driveway swept and her husband never snores, picks his teeth in public or falls asleep at dinner parties.

And, she's always smiling.

I hate her.

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This morning my youngest son complained about the quality of the chocolate cake I'd made for the New Parent's Tea Party.

"Ma, it looked great on the outside. The icing was super. But why did you stuff the inside with toilet paper? It tasted dreadful. Last time you used tissues — at least they melt.

"Mrs Ginkel always bakes real chocolate cakes, she uses real chocolate and sprinkles choc-flakes over the top."

There are times when children should be seen and not heard. This was one of them.

He continued: "Anyway, you're the only mother in the whole school who makes a cake from a loaf of bread and ices it. Why can't you be more like Mrs Ginkel?

"I told Mr Barker you were an original, he told me to get a trade-in who could bake."

Nicky came home from school bubbling: Mrs Ginkel made a super project for John, she built different houses from twenty three countries including an igloo and a wigwam.

"Ma, it was much better than your stupid old matchbox house. Mrs Ginkel got a good-work stamp. Why can't you make projects like Mrs Ginkel?"

Ralph and Barry were more understanding: "Leave Ma alone," they said to their younger siblings. "She's old and tired, not like Mrs Ginkel."

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Jamie was adamant: "I still don't know why Ma can't be like Mrs Ginkel?"

Oh why indeed? I'll tell you why.

Because I like my dirty but interesting children. I like the excitement of never knowing where anything is in the house.

I think life's too short to darn socks and sew on buttons.

Why bake cakes when iced bread will do? And anyway, who needs children with white, cavity-free teeth — dentists have to live.

I like dogs that look like dogs not walking fur coats, I hate rats and most of all I like a husband who snores because at least I know he's still alive.

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