Oh, thanks for asking - just a quiet little weekend, relaxing, you know. Hah! Dragged both children to Argos on Friday night to buy birthday presents for the parties they are both scheduled to attend shortly. Also bought new kettle for office as our office kitchen is about to be gutted. (Left kettle in boot of car and forgot it when went into office - par for course)
Got children up at crack of dawn on Saturday (well, 8am but that's early for weekends isn't it?) - fed them, wrapped present for Second Born's party. Nipped to post office to post parcel to friend in Canada. Cajoled Second Born away from computer and into car. Drove him to party (15 minute drive across town). Resisted temptation to drive past venue and just lob him and gift out of window. Dropped him off, made small talk with other mums, escaped and ran back to car. Drove back across town to house.
Got back to house, described venue of party to husband as he is walking into town (we only have the one car) to pick Second Born up from party. Picked up First Born, drove him out to East Lothian for his therapy session (30 minute drive). Sat through therapy session listening to all the great jokes that First Born has made up recently which therapist hasn't heard yet. I have heard all of them. At least four times. Repetition does not make them funny. (I really wanted to write "funnier" there but honestly, they weren't funny first time round)
Drive First Born back to house, resist temptation to lob him out of window into the driveway. Instead, park and run into house. Deposit child, collect shopping list. Drive to Sainsbury's. All clothes are 25% off! Including the coat I had my eye on! Could my weekend be improving? No. They have every size from 8 to 22 except mine. Sigh. Do shopping whilst pouting. Take shopping home and put away.
Help with general house tidying. We have husband's family coming round to celebrate my mother-in-law's husband's 84th birthday and we can't let them see the sort of squalor we normally inhabit. Tell children they are getting no chinese food if they don't help. Have family round for chinese food - really nice evening but hectic as kids high as kites with the excitement of it all. (We play picture consequences which always results in much hilarity. MIL's husband's attempt to draw a frog is interpreted as a sketch of Nell Gwynn)
Go to bed. Get up, feed children and husband. All pile into car and I am dropped off at my office to participate in great office move as we are upgrading our basement and need to empty it. Of what seems like 20 years of crap. I decide to clear out a first floor cupboard to free up storage and have an interesting afternoon finding our valuable stores of.....replacement daisy wheels (remember them?), headed paper for a former firm that hasn't existed for 10 years, the smallest jiffy bags in the world and a pristine 1970s manual portable typewriter, in its case, complete with two-tone fabric ribbons. (That's going on e-Bay!)
Come home at 6pm dusty and aching. Feed children. Remember Second Born is going on school trip tomorrow. He needs waterproof trousers. He doesn't have waterproof trousers. Find pair that belonged to First Born. They are for age 10. Second Born is 7. And small. Make him try them on. They don't fall round his ankles so declare them a fit. Try on wellies I found in the cupboard and glory be ! They fit!. Make boys take showers. Make boys stop frightening each other by making faces up against the shower curtain. Put children to bed. Eat leftover chinese food from last night. Go to bed. Good job I don't have a social life. Where would I fit it in?
Monday, 1 October 2007
Thursday, 27 September 2007
Failed again..
I am supposed to be running three times a week, trying to gradually increase my distance up toward the magic 10k. Hands up who thinks I am managing to do this at the moment? No-one? Correct. I am just not managing to get out in the mornings, which is the best time for me to run. I blame the dark. And by that I don't mean that I am unwilling to run in the dark (or at least that pre-dawn sort of twilight) - I actually quite like it. No, what I mean is that when the alarm goes off at 6am-ish, the fact that the room is still dark means I don't really wake up properly as husband turns off the alarm. At best, I surface briefly like a breeching whale, register that yes, it is indeed dark, and drift back down into the depths of sleep safe in the erroneous assumption that dark = still nightime, and therefore more sleep.
I then wake up at 6.45 and give myself a hearty slap for falling into the trap again. Sigh. I will have to try some cunning ploys to fool myself (hmmm, beginning to sound like I have multiple personalities now). Maybe set myself a separate alarm over my side of the room before the main alarm goes off. Or buy my husband a sharp pole to prod me with. Go to sleep in my running gear and ask husband to just push me out of bed at 6am? (Probably not the last one: I suspect given my extraordinary level of talent at sleeping that I could probably cover a couple of km without actually waking up first. Not wise when you live on a busy road in a city)
Anyway, the effect has been: no running since last Saturday. In my partial defence, lunchtimes haven't been available and anyway 1 hour isn't really enough time to get to the gym, get changed, get a decent run in, get showered and changed back and return to the office. Evenings have been taken up with the usual stuff. Having said that, last night husband and I and both offspring went out for a walk for 40 minutes or so and I could, technically, have gone for a run then instead but I didn't want to miss the walk so, meh.
Glad I went on the walk though - it was up to the nice park near our house - a pleasant walk up there along a private country-ish lane and then while the kids play in the climbing-frame bit, husband and I walk round the perimeter of the larger playing fields. Every time we pass the climbing frame, the boys come scrambling over and invite us to their invisible restaurant/bar. We have to go over and order food and drink (invisible) which they then serve and charge us for. Last night I got nachos for 99p and husband got a seafood platter ("It's got prawns and lobster and scallops and....and......and..........caviar!") with 2 pints of whisky (!) for £2.50. That's cheap even for invisible money.
I then wake up at 6.45 and give myself a hearty slap for falling into the trap again. Sigh. I will have to try some cunning ploys to fool myself (hmmm, beginning to sound like I have multiple personalities now). Maybe set myself a separate alarm over my side of the room before the main alarm goes off. Or buy my husband a sharp pole to prod me with. Go to sleep in my running gear and ask husband to just push me out of bed at 6am? (Probably not the last one: I suspect given my extraordinary level of talent at sleeping that I could probably cover a couple of km without actually waking up first. Not wise when you live on a busy road in a city)
Anyway, the effect has been: no running since last Saturday. In my partial defence, lunchtimes haven't been available and anyway 1 hour isn't really enough time to get to the gym, get changed, get a decent run in, get showered and changed back and return to the office. Evenings have been taken up with the usual stuff. Having said that, last night husband and I and both offspring went out for a walk for 40 minutes or so and I could, technically, have gone for a run then instead but I didn't want to miss the walk so, meh.
Glad I went on the walk though - it was up to the nice park near our house - a pleasant walk up there along a private country-ish lane and then while the kids play in the climbing-frame bit, husband and I walk round the perimeter of the larger playing fields. Every time we pass the climbing frame, the boys come scrambling over and invite us to their invisible restaurant/bar. We have to go over and order food and drink (invisible) which they then serve and charge us for. Last night I got nachos for 99p and husband got a seafood platter ("It's got prawns and lobster and scallops and....and......and..........caviar!") with 2 pints of whisky (!) for £2.50. That's cheap even for invisible money.
Monday, 24 September 2007
Back to normal
Well the small boy honeymoon lasted a whole 4 hours and by bedtime they were both getting a stern talking to about not torturing each other. They make each other's lives a misery sometimes by hurtful teasing or actual violence and when I intervene to stop it, somehow I still end up the bad guy. Why is that? Frankly, if I could be sure they only applied this treatment to each other, I would just shut my ears and let them get on with it. It's the worry, however, that if they are allowed to do this to each other at home that they will then do it to someone else at school that makes me dive in and do my UN impression.
I mean, how exactly do you teach a 7 year old boy the difference between mucking about and having fun making jokes on the one hand and deliberately teasing someone about something specific with the intention of hurting them on the other hand? Am I being too paranoid about this? The problem is Second Born is sharp with words, he's clever and quick and very perceptive. The result is that he knows First Born's weak spots (FB is very sensitive at the moment about being slightly overweight) and is very good at homing in on them and reducing FB to tears. You could argue that is just brothers engaging in a bit of rough and tumble (albeit verbally) but it is the fact that SB knows it upsets his brother and deliberately sets out to do just that which bothers me. The possibility that SB could turn this "skill" on other people worries me. That's just bullying isn't it? (And of course because FB has dyspraxia, I am more protective of him when it comes to that sort of stuff because he just finds it more difficult to interpret and cope with the human interactive stuff).
And FB is not quick and perceptive that way, but he is big. So, once SB has reduced him to a sobbing lump of snot and fury, FB loses the rag and lashes out physically. Again, when I own the lash-er and the lash-ee, I could just let it go and let them sort it out. But again, I can't allow that to happen if one of the parties isn't mine, and regardless of the provocation, I can't let FB think that fists and feet are the way to react if you are annoyed with someone. But I understand why he is upset.....
My brain hurts. I came down on the side of trying to explain to a 9 year old and a 7 year old that I fully expect them to fight over stuff, and argue and even engage in a bit of rough and tumble, but that there is a difference between that and engaging in behaviour the whole purpose of which is to deliberately hurt someone, either emotionally or physically, because that is bullying. What do you reckon my chances are? And since they now have to earn the right of access to the computer by not engaging in such behaviour, how long do you reckon it will be before they are back on their beloved Club Penguin? (And will their Puffles survive? Oh the drama!........)
I mean, how exactly do you teach a 7 year old boy the difference between mucking about and having fun making jokes on the one hand and deliberately teasing someone about something specific with the intention of hurting them on the other hand? Am I being too paranoid about this? The problem is Second Born is sharp with words, he's clever and quick and very perceptive. The result is that he knows First Born's weak spots (FB is very sensitive at the moment about being slightly overweight) and is very good at homing in on them and reducing FB to tears. You could argue that is just brothers engaging in a bit of rough and tumble (albeit verbally) but it is the fact that SB knows it upsets his brother and deliberately sets out to do just that which bothers me. The possibility that SB could turn this "skill" on other people worries me. That's just bullying isn't it? (And of course because FB has dyspraxia, I am more protective of him when it comes to that sort of stuff because he just finds it more difficult to interpret and cope with the human interactive stuff).
And FB is not quick and perceptive that way, but he is big. So, once SB has reduced him to a sobbing lump of snot and fury, FB loses the rag and lashes out physically. Again, when I own the lash-er and the lash-ee, I could just let it go and let them sort it out. But again, I can't allow that to happen if one of the parties isn't mine, and regardless of the provocation, I can't let FB think that fists and feet are the way to react if you are annoyed with someone. But I understand why he is upset.....
My brain hurts. I came down on the side of trying to explain to a 9 year old and a 7 year old that I fully expect them to fight over stuff, and argue and even engage in a bit of rough and tumble, but that there is a difference between that and engaging in behaviour the whole purpose of which is to deliberately hurt someone, either emotionally or physically, because that is bullying. What do you reckon my chances are? And since they now have to earn the right of access to the computer by not engaging in such behaviour, how long do you reckon it will be before they are back on their beloved Club Penguin? (And will their Puffles survive? Oh the drama!........)
Friday, 21 September 2007
Wellies back..........
......and so is the boy. And almost all of his belongings have also returned safely from camp. Except his waterproof jacket. Which is not a bad result, all things considered. And he must have washed at least once because his facecloth was wet. Of course, there could have been an all-in wet facecloth fight in the dorm, but I prefer to believe there was some hygiene involved.
It was really quite sweet in the school playground this afternoon. Lots of mature, sensible adults barely concealing their nerves as we waited for the buses. Just about everyone in sight had their arms tightly folded across their chests - the low level excitement was almost palpable. And then the first bus arrived and everyone was desparately scanning the windows for a glimpse of their child. Is he there? Is he smiling? Does he look like he had a good time? First Born was on the second bus, grinning like a loon and waving. Fortunately the lump in my throat had dissolved by the time he actually got off and sauntered over to say hi.
So he had a good time and the activities were fun and the food was okay ("I got fish one night which was DELICIOUS but the day everyone else had pizza they gave me sausages in this yucky brown stuff (onion gravy??) which nearly made me vomit!"). One night the teachers all dressed up as Disney characters and they had a game of life-sized Cluedo. First Born's teacher was a dwarf from Snow White, complete with shoes on his knees! I have nothing but admiration for those teachers. They all came off the buses looking shattered!
First Born even brought back a present for his brother, bought with his own spending money, which was a nice touch. And now they're arguing with each other about what they are going to watch on TV and jostling each other round the house. In other words, we are back to normal.
It was really quite sweet in the school playground this afternoon. Lots of mature, sensible adults barely concealing their nerves as we waited for the buses. Just about everyone in sight had their arms tightly folded across their chests - the low level excitement was almost palpable. And then the first bus arrived and everyone was desparately scanning the windows for a glimpse of their child. Is he there? Is he smiling? Does he look like he had a good time? First Born was on the second bus, grinning like a loon and waving. Fortunately the lump in my throat had dissolved by the time he actually got off and sauntered over to say hi.
So he had a good time and the activities were fun and the food was okay ("I got fish one night which was DELICIOUS but the day everyone else had pizza they gave me sausages in this yucky brown stuff (onion gravy??) which nearly made me vomit!"). One night the teachers all dressed up as Disney characters and they had a game of life-sized Cluedo. First Born's teacher was a dwarf from Snow White, complete with shoes on his knees! I have nothing but admiration for those teachers. They all came off the buses looking shattered!
First Born even brought back a present for his brother, bought with his own spending money, which was a nice touch. And now they're arguing with each other about what they are going to watch on TV and jostling each other round the house. In other words, we are back to normal.
Wednesday, 19 September 2007
Just.......weird
Second Born and Husband have just gone upstairs so Second Born can get ready for bed. They were both singing "Foux da fa fa" by Flight of the Conchords. They were doing the dance moves too. I wonder what it is like to live in a normal house.
Ho ho ho, I'm so witty!
So, hands up who thought that the title of the last post was a clever pun, carefully crafted by yours truly? (You know, "Well, he's off" = "Wellies off"??) No, me neither.
Tuesday, 18 September 2007
Well, he's off
This past weekend was a long weekend for us up in sunny Edinburgh. Which meant that I could have been spending my time reading and relaxing, or maybe doing some recreational shopping, or perhaps some nice outings with the family. But no. I spent the weekend welly hunting. First Born was due to go to camp this morning and I had eventually managed to get just about everything on the kit list organised, except for wellies. Who knew it was so hard to get wellies to fit a 9 year old boy? Plenty of little kids' wellies, plenty of adult wellies. Plenty of high heeled pink wellies with feathery trim (and oh how I wish I was joking about that) but none in a size 3 suitable for a boy.
Eventually in desparation yesterday, I spent the morning phoning around every place I could think of and making them look to see if they had the elusive items in stock. A pair was at long last located in one of those warehouse-type shoe shops and I set off in the pouring rain to get them, having been assured they had "loads". They in fact had precisely one pair but I did get them! (And a couple of pairs of shoes that were looking at me. I think I may be turning into a girl).
So that pretty much did for Sunday. Monday was spent packing the bag, hunting for the gloves that I know First Born has (I remember sewing the name tapes in), discovering that said gloves have been lost during some dressing up game outside and locating a scuzzy old pair of woolly gloves instead, sewing new name labels into those and muttering. A lot of muttering.
This morning I drove the kids to school, sent Second Born off to his class and went hunting for....well, wherever I was supposed to take First Born and his bag. Turns out FB was given full details on the arrangements for today on Friday but had either forgotten them or hadn't been listening in the first place. So we didn't know which of the 3 possible buses he was supposed to be on. We ended up just picking one on the basis that his bag will get there regardless and his teacher will (hopefully) make sure he does too! Whilst I was sorting this out, FB wandered off into his classroom so I didn't get a chance to say goodbye and wish him luck etc. I suppose this confirms that he was quite relaxed about the whole going-away-from-home thing but the mum in me wanted to send him off with a hug. Oh well.
He doesn't get back till Friday afternoon so we now have a week of pretending to be a one child family. And since FB is allergic to milk in all its forms but SB isn't, we're tempted to go out for pizza. Just because we can!
Eventually in desparation yesterday, I spent the morning phoning around every place I could think of and making them look to see if they had the elusive items in stock. A pair was at long last located in one of those warehouse-type shoe shops and I set off in the pouring rain to get them, having been assured they had "loads". They in fact had precisely one pair but I did get them! (And a couple of pairs of shoes that were looking at me. I think I may be turning into a girl).
So that pretty much did for Sunday. Monday was spent packing the bag, hunting for the gloves that I know First Born has (I remember sewing the name tapes in), discovering that said gloves have been lost during some dressing up game outside and locating a scuzzy old pair of woolly gloves instead, sewing new name labels into those and muttering. A lot of muttering.
This morning I drove the kids to school, sent Second Born off to his class and went hunting for....well, wherever I was supposed to take First Born and his bag. Turns out FB was given full details on the arrangements for today on Friday but had either forgotten them or hadn't been listening in the first place. So we didn't know which of the 3 possible buses he was supposed to be on. We ended up just picking one on the basis that his bag will get there regardless and his teacher will (hopefully) make sure he does too! Whilst I was sorting this out, FB wandered off into his classroom so I didn't get a chance to say goodbye and wish him luck etc. I suppose this confirms that he was quite relaxed about the whole going-away-from-home thing but the mum in me wanted to send him off with a hug. Oh well.
He doesn't get back till Friday afternoon so we now have a week of pretending to be a one child family. And since FB is allergic to milk in all its forms but SB isn't, we're tempted to go out for pizza. Just because we can!
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