Should I have said something?

I went out for a run again this morning, hirpling around the fields with gritted teeth and steaming face. I alarmed a small rabbit slightly and sent a huge flock of crows skywards in indignation. This was just as I ran past the big field of wheat waiting to be harvested or, as it is known around here at the moment, the pond. Poor farmers, must be weeping in frustration.

As I passed the corner shop on the way home a man came out with his newspaper and half dozen rolls and something on his head. On his forehead to be precise. Something.........silver? I didn't want to look at first in case it was a really unusual birthmark and I would just annoy him by staring but I couldn't help it. As he walked by, I peered. At the silver price label stuck to his forehead which appeared to be advertising him for sale at £9.99. "Cheap." I thought, and headed home for muesli.

But don't you think the guy that sold him the newspaper and rolls should have said something?

Wow, we needed that.

On Friday after work my Husband and I did something that I heartily recommend to everyone. It loosened up the tension, relaxed us and put us into a fantastically good mood. Do you want to do it too? Good. Go here And then here. (Thank you to Mir for that first one. My children won't stop watching it.)

And if you are not wiping tears of laughter from your eyes by the time you have finished, then frankly there is something wrong with you. We were laughing so hard that Husband even had to put his whisky glass down for a moment. That is some serious sniggering.

Miracle upon miracle

Last night I decided enough was enough. Lack of exercise and poor eating choices (albeit yummy ones) have caused me to gain back a whole pile of the weight I so carefully lost. Who knew that all that fat was just waiting around the corner for an opportunity to jump back on and fill my trousers to bursting point? Anyway, I determined that Things Must Be Done and Steps Must Be Taken But Only Once We Have Finished This Rather Nice Apple Crisp I Made Yesterday. Ahem.

I set my running alarm before bed. In other words I told Husband he needed to tell me to get my becoming-more-substantial-by-the-day backside out of bed at 6am and I would go for a run. He agreed and wrote himself a little reminder note to put by the alarm clock. It said "cattle prod" or something similar, I think.

At 6am this morning I stumbled into the bathroom and got kitted out in all of the equipment necessary to ensure I can run wheezing round the block for half an hour without frightening the neighbours doing myself an injury. I left the house and lo and behold! It wasn't raining! I removed the flippers, diving mask and aqualung and decided just to go with the baggy t-shirt and running shoes instead. Then I shuffled gasping round the streets for 25 minutes.

I was vividly reminded of how horrible the first 10 minutes of any run are - those minutes when your body cannot quite believe what you are doing to it and decides in no uncertain terms to put a stop to this nonsense RIGHT NOW by seizing up, refusing to process oxygen and sending all the blood your legs actually need up to your face instead. Yeah, well, most of the run was like that. It's my own fault for pretty much stopping all exercise after the 10k in May. I was actually pleasantly surprised that I didn't just quit after 7 minutes and come back via the corner shop for a family size bag of Maltesers as consolation.

Instead after struggling around a loop I used to run without stopping, I went to the corner shop for bread for my offspring's breakfast (they are unreasonably demanding about wanting breakfast every day) and watched the slight shock on the face of the guy behind the counter at (1) the startling colour of my face, and (2) the fact that the two pounds coins I proffered, which had been in my hand all the way through my run, were so hot they practically set fire to the cash register.

So, not Olympic standard, but a start. I will, of course, undo all the good work by having a chinese takeaway for dinner tonight to celebrate.....Friday. Hmmm. Perhaps I should go for a swim at lunchtime too.

Evolution in process

It was raining again this morning. No surprise there, as it appears to have rained every day for the entire summer. In a separate development, I also noticed this morning that I have acquired what I thought was just a little spot, a tiny cosmetic blemish, on my neck. Now I wonder whether I am actually growing gills.

Lazy parenting versus benign neglect

I feel like a bad parent. We are approaching the end of the summer holidays and the children go back to school on Thursday (hurray!). That's not what is making me feel bad - I doubt there are many parents who do not heave a sigh of relief to see the end of the long summer holiday lurch into view.

No, what makes me feel inadequate is the other parents. To explain, FB has gone over to play with a friend of his a few times during the holidays. FB loves this and his friend's mother assures me it is doing her a favour as it keeps her son occupied too. We have been meaning to return the favour but have not yet managed to do so (more confirmation of our laziness) SB however has sulked every time this has happened. His friends have not invited him over and it's NOT FAIR and I have had to explain that inviting yourself over to someone else's house is just not done. SB considers this unreasonably fastidious of me.

So last week I agreed I would phone round some of his friends and see if they were free to come over for an afternoon to redress the balance somewhat. Guess what. They weren't. I only phoned three and they were, variously: attending rugby camp; attending computer camp; attending organised events at the Book Festival; helping move house. Yeah, okay, that last one is fair enough. The others though? Made me feel like Inadequate Parent of the Year 2008. Other than going away on holiday with them, our arrangements for the children's summer holiday have consisted of making sure my parents are there to look after them, letting them go to Livingston a few times to stay with Granny and Grandad and otherwise expecting them to amuse themselves. They have gone to the museum and to the country park a few times as well as shopping and so on. But no organised clubs, camps or activities.

Now, we have a house full of computers, books, toys and more Lego than I ever thought any normal house could contain. We live in a fairly safe cul-de-sac over the road from a park. It never occurred to me we needed to organise camps and classes for them too. I mean, I did organise swimming lessons last year but that was because I wanted them to learn to swim, not because I thought they needed to have organised activities planned.

Am I out of touch? When I was a child (here we go, nostalgia overload) we were pretty much turfed out of the house during the school holidays. Admittedly I did not grow up in a city but the principle was the same: my brother and I and our friends were expected to make our own entertainment and we did. (Remind me to tell you sometime about the home-made version of "Superstars" we organised once.) Is it unrealistic of me to expect my children to do the same when they live in a city and don't have the freedom and space I had as a child? Or am I actually doing them a favour by making them responsible for their own free time rather than organising everything for them? Or is that just me excusing my own bone-deep laziness and apathy?

More importantly, why don't children come with instruction manuals so I don't have to fret over this stuff?

???????

Conversation which took place in our car this weekend between Second Born and my sister-in-law. Second Born was borrowing SIL's Nintendo DS because he can play in the car without wanting to throw up. SIL can't.

SIL: Are you on?
SB: Yes.
SIL: You're not me, are you?
SB: No, I'm me.
SIL: But are you actually you? You're not me by mistake?
SB: No, I'm definitely me. I made sure I'm not you.
SIL: Good, because I don't want anyone else to be me.

So that's clear then.

Attention, assistance needed

Every year in October Husband has to go to Geneva for a work thing, and every year so far the organisers have managed to plonk the conference in the middle of the school October holiday. Husband has therefore missed out on the holiday and we have had to work around his absence.

This year, however, the timing of the conference is perfect so we are all going with him. He will have to spend one day doing boring stuff but we will have three or four days as a family in Geneva. Whee!

Here's where you come in: any of you been to Geneva? Can you recommend hotels? Things to do? Places to go? Places to eat? Or indeed where not to do any of the above? All info gratefully received.

PS First Born nailed the shoe-lace tying after two attempts. He's so smug it's painful.