Legacy

Scene 1: Spending time with an old friend this Summer

In all the years we lived near each other, we did life together as extended family. Having each other's front door key. Knowing each other's number by heart (before speed dial). Refrigerator rights. Making toast in the other's kitchen. All that kind of stuff. Catching up was easy and familiar and wonderful.

As we spoke, I realised our versions of our shared past weren't quite aligned. I had to remind her of the massive part she'd played in the formation of us as a family and the type of parents we went on to be. I remembered their house as a place of acceptance and encouragement and welcome. Hanging out there was one of my favourite places to be because I could do just that - BE. 

Her memories were different. The good stuff had faded and the melancholy and anxiety had taken over. In their place was regret about stuff she'd done or said wrong - or things she'd failed to do completely. Some of that might be true, but it was a skewed version of reality that left out all the good bits. And that's not fair, honest or true.

So we reminisced. We remembered together and talked about all kinds of stuff. We shared challenges - historical and current - and recommitted to pray for each other more regularly. It was sooo good and over too quickly.

-----------------------------

Scene 2: A couple of weeks afterwards, I found this podcast with Yeonmi Park, a North Korean defector who was trafficked out the country aged 13, along with her mother, eventually ending up in the USA. Yeonmi now lives there and campaigns for human rights. Her life story is chilling and horrific and inspiring. We know almost NOTHING about the atrocities that really go on in this world. The main thing I couldn't shake was that the regime in North Korea is pure death. It’s destructive, controlling and joyless and has claimed the lives of countless numbers of its citizens with no real accountability. The slightest hint dissent is punished severely - spilling out beyond the individual to their family, neighbours and friends. There is widespread death by association. And it's happening right now. 

Even if a person gets out, they're still not truly free as anyone they've left behind is still a target. 

The guilt is infectious. 

It continues down the bloodline and can't be erased. 

-----------------------------

Scene 3: We’ve started singing in church again. It’s pretty wonderful after so long. The other week we sung The Blessing that became really popular online during Covid.
May His favour be upon you
And a thousand generations
And your family
And your children
And their children
And their children

As we sung, the 2 opposing worlds were clashing in my brain:
North Korea and God’s Kingdom. 

I was consumed with the realisation that guilt and death aren’t catching anymore. 

Grace is.

I was singing and crying and thinking about the conversations over the Summer. Praying for my kids and all the people I'm forever connected to. Those of us still working things out. Rehashing what’s gone before. Changing things. Taking detours. People just living and finding our place in the world. 

Why do we get so obsessed with our immediate children (and perhaps grandchildren), when our story is way older and bigger and deeper than that?

This is not North Korea.

Grace is infectious. 

We live and breathe because of it. Complicated yet beautiful stories and being written and rewritten all over the place, as we're refined to reflect our creator. Our legacies ripple out to places we don’t even know about. They will touch the lives of human beings not even born yet. 

And your children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children
And their children

Parenting fail (2)

Lockdown involves a family game after dinner. Attendance is compulsory, if a little challenging to the family's introverted key worker who has spent 8 hours of the day dealing with the general public from 2m away.

It's also a little challenging to the family member who does not use humour as a coping mechanism when the rest of us play Bananagrams like this.

Game ended with key worker consoling sibling upstairs, remaining sibling in the shower wondering what all the fuss was about, other parent finding the whole thing hilarious and me up early the next morning constructing this as an apology.

Skittles

Spawn X: There's been a theft. My skittles have been eaten out the cupboard. I forgot I had them and then I remembered and when I went to get them they were gone.

Me: And you're sure you didn't eat them yourself?

Spawn X: I would have done if it weren't for the EMPTY PACKET.

(Pause for dramatic effect. Rubbish left lying around winds me up. Rubbish hidden in cupboards and drawers even more so). 

Me: Well , by the process of elimination, I didn't eat them and I'm pretty sure dad didn't. But you can ask him and get an honest answer.

Spawn X: I think we both know who they likely suspect is.

Me: Family meeting?

Spawn: I don't want a family meeting - I want justice!

Me: We can discuss at dinner - see what happens?

Spawn X: Might as well. We're having quiche so everyone will be miserable anyway.

Making up

Bedtime conversation in Spawn Y's room. There's unresolved sibling tension. I'm hopeful they will sort it out soon so I can have a shower and finish my gin - which is downstairs getting closer to room temperature the longer I'm up here. (Spawn X knocks and enters room)

Me (whispering): Do you want me to leave?

Spawn Y (whispering): No

Me: Hey. Did you want to talk this out before bed?

Spawn X: I'm sorry I was sarcastic to you before. That wasn't cool.

Spawn Y: That's OK. I'm sorry I was irrationally sensitive.

(They hug)

Me: Ah sweeeet ... You guys are so mature. Just so you know - me and uncle Michael never had conversations like this.

Spawn X: That's cause we're better people than you.

Family Meeting

Minutes from non-scheduled after dinner meeting last night. Points raised and resolved as follows:

Issue 1
J playing the same 7 notes on the bass. Loudly and repeatedly.
Defence: It's annoying
Accused: I'm learning to play the bass. I need to practise
Verdict: Overruled. He's learning to play bass and doing really well. Suck it up.

Issue 2
M offended at laughter when we recount the story of a pheasant getting squished in the road
Defence: This upsets me. It's not funny when animals die.
Accused: Yeah but sometimes they're so stupid it's a little funny.
Verdict: Upheld. That was a living thing that just got turned inside out in front of you. Show a little compassion.

Issue 3
Sniffing other people's armpits
Defence: It's weird. And annoying. Please stop.
Accused: Sometimes you don't spray adequately, I'm just trying to work it out.
Defence: Do it more subtely then. You're an adult.
Verdict: Upheld. Sorry. I will try to be more senstitive in the future.

Issue 4
Looking for something that's no longer there
Defence: When you move my stuff I don't know where it's gone and it's irritating.
Accused: There shouldn't be 'stuff' lying around - everything belongs somewhere
Verdict: Overruled: Pick up your own stuff

Issue 4a
You leave clutter lying around the house that should be put away
Defence: There shouldn't be 'stuff' lying around - everything belongs somewhere
Accused: Well sometimes you don't ask us to put stuff away nicely
Defence: I'll work on that. Sorry. Maybe you guys can work on tidying stuff up with a good attitude when I have asked nicely?
Verdict: Compromise

Issue 5
Phones at the table
Defence: This meeting is going on too long....
Accused: Put it away. We're nearly done. Any further issues??

Issue 6
The BABOAA (Being-a-bit-of-an-arse) alarm - which is a 'Woowoowoowoowoowoowoo' siren noise made by the one who identifies arse-like behaviour in another
Defence: This winds me up. Can we stop using it
Accused: But you like to use it on other people
Defence: Yeah - because when I use it, I use it correctly
Verdict: We have evolved beyond the alarm. It is causing more trouble than it's solving. Let's use words in future.

Issue 7
Watermelon spritz thievery
Defence: It was there in the cupboard and I asked for some and you said no, then 2 days later it's GONE. The rules aren't consistent
Accused: Who bought it?
Defence: You did. But I was with you.
Accused: OK - so we have a basic misunderstanding about entitlement here. You saw it in the cupboard and felt it was communal stock. I'll hide the bottle the next time.
Verdict: Overruled

Issue 8
Blogging about family conversations
Verdict: We ran out of time to discuss this one. It's on the agenda for the NEXT family meeting, along with not cleaning the toilet after leaving skidders and putting cereal boxes back in the cupboard with less than half a bowlful of flakes left.

Ballet

We have 2 teenage boys and one incredibly non-girly girl. I have spent zero hours of my life ferrying kids to and from ballet lessons and have little insight into the world of points and tutus and everything that goes along with it. Then, a few months ago, I was the stand-in parent for my best mate's daughter who was about to sit a ballet exam.

I witnessed a very intense 40 minute lesson from the perimeter of the room surrounded by other ballet mums - some of whom were taping their daughters' performances on iPads so they could later critique performances around the dinner table and work on improvements before e-day.

The teacher, Miss Diana* clearly had a mission to have every girl pass the exam the following week and was taking no prisoners. Everyone had to get with the programme. She controlled the class in a sing-songy yet strangely threatening voice that suggested Bad Things would happen if her instructions were not followed. No one else seemed freaked out or offended by this. She also used lots of French words that I'm about to horribly misspell because I left school nearly 30 years ago and never studied French. They included:

Bat mon gleesay
Sourire
KEEP SMILING
Bay mon dong
Bronda charloh ten
Rondeh joh n
Don't murmur
You can breathe and you can blink
Ballet second ton dew
Demi plee ay
No willy wonkeys
Plee ay
Gleesay close back
YOU'RE NOT SMILING
Grande gleesay close front
Aw fondew
Dev le pay du von

I had no idea what this woman was talking about. And I was genuinely uncomfortable by the way she spoke to the kids.

The weird thing was, the little girls appeared unfazed and were happy to comply with the French orders. And the mothers surrounding the room were totally comfortable with the arrangement and were paying for it to happen. There was an agreement in place that I wasn't quite getting.

It was a disconcerting experience. Everything about the environment was alien and unfamiliar. And even though a couple of the ballet mums smiled and chatted before the thing started (we were NOT allowed to talk while Miss Diana ran the class) they had a common interest in this whole thing that I didn't share (and had no desire to). I was a temporary interloper in their world, conspicuously standing in for a real ballet mum.

Which got me thinking about social situations in general and how tribal these things can be. New school. Leaving school. College. New job. Joining a gym. Becoming a parent governor. Joining a political party. Going to church...

Each sub culture has its own set of norms and habits that those who belong to it take for granted. There's familiarity and history and acronyms and an understanding of what to expect. Which is great - when you have a little inside knowledge.

But what about those on the fringes? What about those who want to join and start building history? Relationships? Bonds that really matter? Maybe that's asking a lot of your governing body (You only signed up for 3 meetings per year for the next 4 years - just explain your zillion acronyms to me) but churches - surely they should be among the most accessible places on earth?

Our church has an entire team of people who's primary focus is on welcoming people at the door, chatting to visitors, connecting them with other people and having really good quality coffee in constant supply. From a logistical side, the entrance is street level and there's loads of parking. All good. The whole thing works well for those who are already primed and ready for that kind of interaction.

But what of those beyond the fringes? The interlopers. The conspicuous ballet mums and the slightly freaked out? The ones who know this is a valuable resource of some kind for some people, just not them (yet)? What about those who want to observe from the sidelines then grab their borrowed child and leave before they get into conversation with anyone (possibly in French)?

This is where other ballet mums come into their own. The ones who make eye contact and smile. The ones who ask which kid you've borrowed and point out their own. The ones that are friends with your best friend and ask how she is. The ones that laugh at your unease about Miss Diana's voice and make you feel less uneasy about her. The ones who help you see that Miss Diana comes alive when she teaches other people's daughters to dance.

So, to all:
Regular ballet mums
Experienced governors
Veteran churchy people
Smiley duty reception staff at the gym
And anyone else who can make interlopers walk away from you, smiling and thinking,  'Je pourrais appartenir ici...' ** -  Merci x

*Pseudonym used
** 'I could belong here' (Hopefully - I googled it)

Delegation

I have spawned a cook! A real live person who makes things in the kitchen and enjoys it and the results are incredible. Thank you Mrs Davies! Forget all this maths / science / business nonsense. Food tech is the future. Am almost delirious here.

Exhibit A: Panna cotta

J has made this dish 3 times in the last 3 days. It's our new favourite thing. The texture is a mix of jelly and cloud and tastes amazing. I have to hunt and gather the ingredients and remind him to fill the sink before he starts, but otherwise the whole process is undertaken independently.

This is the dream, people.

Batch #1: It's 10pm but this had set and he can clean his teeth again afterwards.

Batch #2: Working on the presentation. With dobs of coulis and everything. 

Batch #3 setting in the fridge as I type. This version includes an experimental portion where the coulis is swirled through it.

I don't know how this happened or why but I'm hoping not to break it.

Theology

M: Are there dogs in heaven?

Me: I don't know. God made dogs and everything else and called them 'good', so-

M: The Bible doesn't actually say though.

Me: No, it doesn't. But it doesn't say there won't be animals in heaven either. And we're told the Earth will be made like new again one day. Put back to the way it should be.

M: I think there SHOULD be dogs in heaven. Especially police dogs that have died while they were working.

QOTD

Scene 1
M: Mum!
Me: Yeah?
M: Can you come here a minute and just be with me?
Me: Why- what's up?
M: Because there's a wasp. And I'm practising being not scared.

Scene 2
(Following an argument between J and M that she is still upset about)
Me: ... So there's no excuse for him being rude to you, but don't think he doesn't love you anymore or anything. It's just hard being 12.
M: Ah, so it was a mood swing then.
Me: What do you know about mood swings?
M: You get them in puberty and they make you cross and sad and then happy again and you don't know why, but you don't need to panic about puberty -  they said on Operation Ouch.

Scene 3
(Re the management of said mood swings)
Me: Sometimes you'll feel upset at stuff that normally wouldn't bother you at all. And sometimes it's good to go off and be alone. And sometimes it's good to cry. And other times it's actually best to carry on like normal and pretend that you're not bothered at all, but that's really hard.
M: Like I did when I saw all those prawn crackers on the pavement.

Scene 4
J: Did I actually use proper words there because no one is listening to me!?
M: That's exactly how I feel when I ask for white chocolate Magnums.

Scene 5
J: Gran, can you NOT make something tasty for tea tonight - cause I'm not here.

The weather

When our youngest was 3 and a half we sold her buggy on eBay and I purchased a corporate wardrobe of clothes. All within a six week period. My head still hurts a little bit to think about it. My relationship with modes of child transportation is not dissimilar to the one many grown men have with their motor vehicles and I don't enjoy clothes shopping unless it's for denim.

The whole thing was like Bam! - your pre-school stay-at-home years are over and your world is now juggling childcare with spreadsheets and never finding the dishwasher empty. Welcome to the season of always feeling like the thing you should be doing has sneakily been gazumped by the thing you're actually doing right now and sending the kids to breakfast club when they don't want to go because there's no bread or milk in the house. Again.

I missed the season I had just left. I actually missed it in the same kind of way as I missed the last few weeks of coupledom after child#1 arrived four and a half weeks early and then wouldn't sleep for longer than 45 minutes at a time unless the Hoover was on or he was attached to a boob. Hoover frequently lost. Neighbours get a little irritated if you try to vacuum at 3am.

I don't know if new seasons are hard purely because they are hard, or if they feel harder than they actually are because they are new and different and sometimes arrive when you're still dressed for the previous one. And when you're in the middle of a season it's hard to imagine life ever being any different one day. But the days gradually get warmer and the hours of daylight resolutely increase until one day you can't actually remember the last time you wore gloves - just that you don't need them anymore so maybe now's a good time to wash them because they stink of Wotsits.

And so it is with family stuff. Kids drift into and out of seasons so gradually sometimes that things can go completely undocumented until you look at old photos or spend time with a family who are at an earlier stage.

I don't know the last time child#1 asked me to read to him. It was years and years ago. He just gradually stopped asking and other things naturally took their place.

I don't know when child#2 last lined up all his Brio engines in front of the TV so they could watch 'Thomas & Friends' with him. Or when he finally stopped head butting nearby surfaces or the floor whenever he was cross.

I don't know when child#3 stopped her post shower game of wrapping herself in a bath sheet then curling up on the bathroom floor and barking until I arrived and unwrapped the towel to unexpectedly discover a puppy. Every. Single. Night. I might have recorded it just once if I'd not been absolutely sick of the game unable to envisage a time when we'd not be playing it anymore.

Today's weather:
• Child#1 enjoys reading lines and lines of spurious code off his laptop screen to me. These words are in English but their position next to each other in big long sentences (and I use that word rather loosely) means nothing. He's not good at addressing my questions without repeating the same meaningless words back at me in a slightly impatient voice, but he IS good at testing websites and new booking sites for work, finding typos and fixing broken code.

• Child#2 is the most laid back, sociable person I know. It's like a lifetime's worth of aggression was expressed in the first 3 years of his life and now the diplomacy gene is in overdrive. He hates conflict and often mediates between opposing viewpoints (either that or it's all there, waiting to explode again at puberty).

• Child#3 spends a long time after her shower sorting through her cuddly animal collection to select her 'bedtime crew' for the night so no one feels left out. Inspired by Sue Bentley's magic puppy books, she writes stories about talking dogs, draws pictures of sparkly dogs and would love to own a real live dog. We are not getting one. We own a low maintenance cat and 2 mice, who are a year old and therefore due to die off soon. 

I don't know when life got a bit saner. Maybe the season was so mental because too many different types of weather were all happening at once. I was most definitely still dressed for a different climate when it started.

Today's outlook: 

• Child#1 can be left in charge of Child#2 and Child#3 for short periods without expecting payment or major incident.

• Due to my redundancy by stealth programme, Child#1, #2 & #3 get up, dressed and organised for the day with minimal adult intervention, then journey to and from school independently.

• We still occasionally run out foodstuffs, but Lidl is just around the corner and everyone in the house is capable of going for bread and milk.*

Forecast: Who knows? These things are never accurate anyway. There will definitely be weather of some description.

* Except the cat- who is a pure free loader.

Playing by the rules

Three or four times a year the kids get out the Monopoly board and we start a game that will involve all of us having dinner scrunched up at one end of the kitchen table for 3 evenings in a row, regular accusations of corruption against the banker, a few tears and at least one major argument. The game will end after a gradual slide into destitution as I slowly haemorrhage all my possessions to the eventual winner (which by the way, is never me).

It's interesting to see how the kids' personalities play out as the game progresses:

E: Rules are rules are rules. They are there for a reason. They make the game function. What's the point of playing it if you're going to show compassion? This is futile. It only prolongs the inevitable (and delays my rise to absolute power!! Mwahhhh haawhh haaaaaawhh...)

J: Lighten UP. Rules are a guide- a framework, if you will. It's people that are important. Playing the game should be fun. If you have to pay that massive bill then you'll loose Piccadilly and Coventry Street and be sad, so why not just pay me HALF the money and let me have some bubble gum bottles from your secret junk drawer instead? Oh - and if there's going to be an atmosphere about all this then I'll be in the garden playing football...

M: But I like the rules. If we aren't playing properly, then I won't play. Oh, unless you want to show me a little bit of leniency. Then that's OK- because I am the youngest.

The whole purpose of the game is to win, and to have a winner, everyone else must loose. Without an imbalance of power, there IS no game. Which is why I hate Monopoly. But because we play it so infrequently, my memory recovers well enough to convince me that it wasn't really that bad and we're teaching life skills like risk taking, conflict resolution, losing gracefully, blah blah blah, plus we need something to do on happy family no gadget Wednesdays that involves us all being in the same room of the house. Then the whole process repeats itself from the start and I realise once again: Yep - I really do hate this game.

There comes a point, no matter what chance card you pick or how the dice falls, the event horizon of bankruptcy has been crossed and there is no going back. From now on the future involves only Foodbank vouchers, zero hours contracts and eventually dying alone in a damp bedsit, perhaps covered in your own vomit.

The game starts off so fairly, doesn't it? Everyone starts off with the same amount of money.  The iron, dog and top hat all receive the same amount of money for passing GO. The same opportunities for success exist equally for all, yet the outcome is always a situation that is very unequal- although supposedly fun to play.

Does life imitate art or vice versa? Do I have issues with Monopoly or the values it stands for? Because the game has been going on for real since forever and we start playing as soon as we arrive - even if we'd rather play football in the garden or wander off to the toilet and forget to come back to the kitchen table or (me only) rearrange all the cupboards in the entire house then post the photos to Buzzfeed.

Except in the real game there is no level playing field anymore. There are no equal opportunities - start up capital sums vary and property portfolios are often predetermined at birth. There is no set amount for passing GO- each person receives a different amount that reflects their market value. Because some people are inherently more valuable than others, right?

Race, gender, income, education, background - all kinds of things influence the gameplay. Some people are naturally predisposed to wealth or power and the game belongs to the wealthy and powerful. Some people live their whole lives waiting to roll the dice. The article here explores what the Monopoly rules would look like if applied today in the USA alone. Factor in global wealth statistics and the game rules only get more skewed. It's so weird. Every one of us being born into a time and place and situation that we have NO control over. How is that fair?

And how do we play the game fairly now that we're here? Fulfilling the responsibilities of adulthood, enjoying whatever rewards genetics, IQ and geography bring and sharing our (sometimes limited) resources based on the priority of need - without being embittered by what what other people have or immobilised by guilt about what we have or frustrated by the apathy of those who could really make a difference if they wanted to.

It must be possible to live here yet not be tainted by the system. To be in the world but not conform to it. Jesus managed it. He spent his whole life doing so and was eventually killed for it as the system was SO unjust it couldn't cope with him. The culture and context changes, but the same game plays on. And while the rules are still enforced by the powerful, we can learn stuff from the way he approached the rules while he was here:

Jesus made religious people mad by refusing to condemn a woman to death who'd been caught in adultery, telling the crowd, 'Let him who has never sinned throw the first stone.' One by one they dropped their stones and left. The religious people liked their rules. They liked catching people out who had broken the rules. But they chose which rules to follow and which rules to ignore (where was the man she was caught with??) Jesus knew all about the rules but loved people more than being right. He knew all the rules the religious guys had broken too - and exposed their hypocrisy.
• Love people more than rules

One time his friends were challenged about paying taxes to Caesar. Jesus instructed them to fish in the nearby waters and the money would be found inside the mouth of a fish. And it was - they were given what they needed at the point where they needed it. Jesus didn't make a direct stand against the taxation system (he could have done) - but used the situation to teach about God's ability to provide.
• God is bigger than the rules

Another time he advised some people that 'If one of the occupying troops forces you to carry his pack for one mile, carry it two miles.' This sounds like caving in to power, but was actually an act of quiet rebellion. A first century Palestinian could be forced to carry a soldier's supplies for one mile- but making anyone carry the weight further than this was forbidden and resulted in disciplinary action. Jesus wasn't being submissive - he was showing people a way to flip the rules back onto the rule makers and exploit them to their advantage.
• Make a stand against unfair rules

He didn't really have a permanent residence. He travelled loads- always surrounded by people. Someone once declared he would follow Jesus anywhere, to which he replied 'Foxes have dens, the birds have nests, but I have nowhere to lie down and rest.' He didn't have much stuff because stuff wasn't that important to him.
• Using the rules to acquire lots of stuff is not a good use of time

The longest recorded conversation we know about is between him and a Samaritan woman. This is massive. Hanging out with a woman? With a dodgy history? Who belongs to a people group we hate? This was beyond shocking. It was unimaginable. Things like this were never done - ever. 'Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you' he said.
• A rule that makes you hate someone is not a good rule. Ignore it.

Hmmm. Would Jesus rather play Monopoly or football or organise a cupboard? (One of these activities -my favourite one- has no rules at all).

Being Big

Aftermath of sibling argument which conveniently took place while I was on the phone. 

Me: Why was Madi yelling at you before- repeatedly?
E: Because I was annoying her.
Me: *Sigh* Was that a smart thing to do?
E: (Affronted) Well, she shouldn't have shouted at me!
Me: What did you expect to happen?!
E: I expected her to be the bigger person and deal with it better.
Me: How old are you? And your sister...?
E: 14 and... and... Hmm... how old is she again...?
Me: 8. 14 and 8. That makes YOU the bigger person. Do the maths.
I give him my best withering look. He is fighting a smile. He's enjoying this. In a twisted way I am too, but I don't tell my face.
E: (Patting my arm) It's a figure of speech, mum.
Me: Don't move from here! (I walk into hall and shout for Madi. She appears within 20 seconds, bubbly and co-operative. This is her standard default approach to most things, unless she's in trouble). Babe, you know how you yelled at your brother when he was kicking you on the couch, what else could you have done?
M: Um... I could have asked him to stop kicking me. Rather than shouting.
Me: And if he'd ignored you and carried on doing it...?
M: I could've come through here and told you.
Me: Great idea. Note it for next time. Now... Can you do something for me? Even though he kicked you and was being really annoying... can you be the BIGGER PERSON and apologise for shouting? I think it may help...
M: (Considering my request) But... Jackson is always the biggest person.
This is absolutely true. Emotional intelligence wise, he outstrips them all. Even me. He often patches things up between these two that I don't even get to hear about.
Me: I know babe, but you see (turn to eldest) it's a figure of speech.
M: OK. I'm sorry Ethan.
I smile and give Ethan The Look
E: Thank you Madi.
More of The Look
E: I accept your apology.
Little bit more. 
E: I'm no longer offended.
Little bit more still. With higher eyebrows.
Me: And.....?
E: And I'm sorry too.
Thank you. My Big, BIG people.

Vomit

Please discuss the following situations and explain why you selected your answers. Diagrams are welcome but not essential.

1: Would you rather suffer debilitating nausea for hours and hours, or throw up once and be done with it and functional again?

2: Is it preferable to experience a family-wide sickness bug simultaneously and put up with the associated problems of having more people than bathrooms and no one well enough to take care of anyone else, or individually, thus increasing the likelihood of a toilet being empty when needed (although not necessarily being reached) and extending both the overall period of quarantine and volume of laundry?

3: Is it better to be woken at 2am by a poorly child, or a well child who has wandered through the entire house to tell you she got up for a pee and trod in some cat sick on her carpet? And she immediately came downstairs to tell you there's cat sick on her carpet- she didn't waste time washing her foot first.

4: Is it better to deal with 1: A small amount of rank, concentrated vomit that has been inside a person for 12 whole hours and which gives the person enough warning to be hunched over the toilet bowl in readiness, or 2: Copious volumes of recently consumed iced water and 3 green Skittles^® which project from said person forcibly and suddenly resulting in a large, clear pond in the hallway?

5: Does the following conversation reflect well or badly on a particular parenting style?
I'm in the office at my desk (which I should state is at the bottom of our back garden). The phone rings. I see by the display it is poorly child last seen 35 minutes ago on couch watching Pop Junior.
Me: Hi Babe- are you OK?
J: Yeah I'm OK. Can I have a bath?
Me: Of course you can. Are you happy doing that on your own?
J: Yes that's fine. (movement)... I'll go run it now...  (weird gurgling noise) Hmm, I feel a bit... (more noises) Oh I'm sick again...
Me: (I get up off my chair) What - you're being sick right now?!
J: Yes that's right... (More noises) Oh I'm sick a LOT!
Me: HANG UP THE PHONE AND GET TO THE TOILET!!!

Some of these musings I first thought of ages ago. Scenario 1 for example. I'm not a puker. I fight it. My brain chooses to make me feel awful rather than going with the retching and probably feeling better much quicker. It's like the gastrointestinal tract can only be a one way street - the contents moving in one direction at all times making vomiting unnatural and something to be avoided at all costs- like colonic irrigation.

Then there's Scenario 4. I only thought of this today. On reflection, even though it involved being up at quarter past 7 (earlier than I prefer), it was less traumatic to deal with type 1 sick. There was far less fuss and mess involved and I multitasked my way through the sympathy and back rubbing by sipping a cup of tea with my free hand.

We look forward to your feedback and perhaps a diagram or two. Floorpans of bedrooms and their proximity to the bathroom* are most helpful.

*Obstacles between these locations should be avoided

Do not post until 2020

This, like several other posts has been sitting in my drafts folder for ages. It's immensely frustrating. I live in a vibrant household with 4 other people who are kind enough to provide me with bloggable interactions and situations on an almost daily basis. But to publish them too soon (or at all, sometimes) is not funny or clever.

Eventually enough time elapses and stories can be repeated for the good of families everywhere.

I have confiscated E's phone for the following reasons:
1: He took it upstairs with him when I'd expressly requested he keep it downstairs in craft box and tidy his room.
2: He had not tidied room, but was playing on phone in middle of messy room
3: He had complained to younger siblings that I was 'stupid' for confiscating phone for no valid reason. Younger siblings quickly dobbed him in. (There are no secrets with 8 year olds).

Several hours have elapsed. E is going upstairs to bed.
E: I'll need an alarm for tomorrow morning. Please may I have my phone back?
(I do not do mornings. He has me there. I retrieve phone from kitchen drawer).
Me: Just remind me. Whose phone is this?
E: It's yours. You're lending it to me.
Me: Yes I am.
E holds out his hand. I do not release the phone.
Me: And....?
E: I'm sorry
Me: For...?
E: Taking your phone upstairs.
Me: And...?
E: Calling you stupid.
Me: It's really pretty stupid to call another person stupid when that other person is responsible for providing you with many things, including said phone. Out of the goodness of her heart. Isn't it?
E: Yes it is. Absolutely. Very stupid. And rather ironic.
Me: Indeed. I accept your apology. Here's my phone back.
E: Thank you.
Me: You are welcome.

Power trip

E and I are doing late night Tesco run. We are in intense negotiation as he is attempting to persuade me to change my mind about something. He has spent the last 10 minutes and 3 aisles addressing each of my objections to his request and dismantling them in a considered, mature way. I am slowly realising that his eagerness to accompany me was less to do with the shopping experience or my dynamic company and more a divide and conquer thing.

E: So... There's no real reason why I can't go to the airport with dad tonight then... would you agree?

Me: I am genuinely impressed by your skills of reasoning. You are constructing strong arguments there for your case.

E: Thank you.

Me: How will you use these powers of persuasion as you grow up? Will you use your superior intellect and rationale for the the good of mankind or will you use your powers to manipulate others and bend their will to your own...?

E: Hmmm.... (Thoughtfully rubs his chin in a cartoon villianish kind of way). I'll probably do a bit of both....

Onions

Madi started the dinner tonight unsupervised as I was busy in the garden and we were all hungry. Came in after 10 minutes to find her like this.

How not to parent

I need to learn to interact appropriately with my children with regards to what is polite social behaviour and what really isn't. It's kind of fun to push the boundaries with them and joke around (especially when my tolerance of most things foul is much higher than theirs, so any attempt by them to gross me out generally backfires), BUT when you are dealing with a smaller person who is not aware does not care about such boundaries then my plan should probably be longer term than the next 30 seconds of mirth.

Exhibit A
I am doing pre back-to-school appraisal of uniform /shoes / PE kit. I am two down one to go. I call the last one in to reassess fitting of final item - his coat from last term. I hold it out as he slips it on and we deem the coat still fits. Yay- back-to-school clothing and shoes are sorted! I just need to spend this coming week making sure we are all up and dressed before 11am or Monday will hurt a whole lot more than normal.  I'm about to dismiss him back to Miscellaneous Leisure Activities when...

Me: Argh. Look at my hand! I have one of your bogies on my hand!
J: I don't think that's mine.
Me: It must be mate- how would one of mine get there?
J: Good point. (He turns to leave)
Me: And... I have no tissue. You could just eat it?
(Immediately he sucks it off my outstretched finger then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand).
J: That DEFINITELY wasn't mine...
(He hugs me and walks away).

Exhibit B
Linked to inappropriate parenting issue above, but more about my cooking issues and what happens when I've not properly cooked for almost 2 months (working away /visiting mates & relatives / working away some more / visiting some more) then going shopping without a list and ending up with far too many cornflakes for the cupboard and finding expired food products that make me panic because I have a love/hate relationship with the food bin...

Mid-morning. My mate, her kids, me and 2 of my kids are in her car on way to IKEA. Aside from a vague plan concerning purple curtains and purple accessories, the day has not been strictly planned.

Mate: Have you had lunch yet?
Me: No.
Madi (from back): I haven't even had any breakfast yet!
Me: Why not?! Didn't you have your chocolate crispy cake?
Mate: For breakfast?!
Me: (Defensively) They have cereal in them...
J: I had a chocolate crispy cake AND jelly!
Me: Because there was no room for the cornflakes in the cupboard (stuff sitting out on the counter makes me anxious- she knows this) and the jelly expired 4 months ago and I only found it again yesterday...

I suspect this does not happen in many other houses. Even if it is the holidays.

ItchyScratchy

These are my elbows. They don't match right now. Some unknown insect(s) bit me the other day while I was gardening cutting the grass and now my right forearm itches so badly I could gnaw it off myself. The itch caused by this creature's saliva trumps all pregnancy and yeast related itchiness known to woman and I have become a piriton junkie, waking in the night clawing at my own skin if I haven't have any medication before bed.

My 8 year old daughter is unimpressed by any of this.
Conversation of the day (as I'm putting her to bed)
M: Mum! Stop scratching- it will only make it worse!
Me: Yes I know, but this itches really badly.
M: Well, (she puts her hand on top of mine to stop me scratching) You've just got to live with it! Do you remember when I had my spots (molloscus) and the nurse told me not to scratch and I didn't - even though I really wanted to and sometimes I even cried in bed at night as they were so itchy, but I just LISTENED to her and didn't scratch and just put up with it. You need to do that too.
Me: Ok- thanks.

Oven gloves are too warm and cumbersome to wear in bed and nowhere seems to sell adult sized scratch mitts. I see a gap in the market.

There's somebody at the door

Our doorbell went twice yesterday, which is still something of a novelty as we haven't had it that long. The kids still occasionally sneak outside and press it, just so the others will run to answer the door. But the door bell was pressed yesterday by genuine callers and not resident chap door runners.

Caller 1: A child young man who has just started work with a roofing company. They will be in the area tomorrow and will be offering free no obligation quotes guaranteed for 12 months. We spoke politely for 2 minutes, I took one of his flyers to get rid of him and as we said goodbye he remarked 'Wow- you have your hands full' (referring, I assume to the 2 youngest kids who during the course of our brief conversation interrupted to ask if was time to go swimming yet).


Caller 2: TNT delivery driver dropping off a box of conference supplies. The door was actually open when he called and the kids were in that glorious in-between state of weaving their scooters around the swimming rucksacs on the drive and running back into the house to ask me are we ready to leave yet? I hurriedly signed for my delivery and commented to the driver that now we could go swimming (hurrah!). Instead of sharing in the excitement of the occasion he rolled his eyes and offered me a 'Good luck.'

Maybe if one of these exchanges happened in isolation or I was experiencing a different balance of caffeine or hormones or it wasn't the holidays therefore I wasn't both working and trying to enjoy the company of my kids (and feeling guilty for doing neither particularly well) I wouldn't be typing this. But collectively, both blokes hacked me off.

Is it a common assumption that a casually dressed woman answering the door in the middle of the day and being willing to speak politely to a stranger while child related noise is heard from another room is desperate for adult conversation about no obligation quotes for anything as long as it offers respite from CBBC, finding bits of toast down the side of the sofa and accusations of who started something?

And are most people so out of touch with their inner children that the sight of 2 real ones scooting around their own front yard means that luck must surely be needed to cope with the exhaustion of observing them do so?

It's ironic really- the parenting thing is pretty low maintenance at the moment. Keith and me are enjoying that blissful lull between needy small child clinginess and hormone driven grunting and door-slamming. To illustrate, the events of yesterday went thusly:

09.00: Wake. No school so I can lie here a bit longer. Yeah!

09.15: Get up. Kids up already. They have had breakfast. I wipe table and fill sink. J does dishes (his holiday job). E hangs out 2 loads of washing (his holiday job). Madi makes me a cup of tea (her holiday job).

09.40: I put another load of clothes into wash. Leave kids playing the wii-U. Go back to bed with lap top and phone.

10.00 - 12.00: Madi makes me another 3 cups of tea. I drink them. I answer many emails, reconcile 4 payments, work through the amends on a manual that goes to print next week and answer the phone 5 times.

12.00: Kids make their own lunches. Madi makes me another cup of tea. I drink it and sneakily eat 5 bubble gum bottles. (The kids don't know I have any left). J does the lunchtime dishes and says he'd rather be on laundry. It's tough being 2 foot shorter than your brother. You get the low jobs. I'll have to get up soon. I need my laptop charger and a wee.

13.00: Ethan brings in washing which is now dry, and hangs out another 2 loads of damp stuff. I fold the dry washing into separate piles according to owner and the kids put it away and make their beds.

13.30: M and J pack swimming bags for all of us. I am finished my amends (yeah!) and have almost got my inbox down to one page. I get quite excited by this, then remember our new system involves categorising emails. I filter by category and am met with a page of them requiring attention. Darn it.

14.45: The kids are ready to go. I am almost ready. I've just got to allocate the cheques I want to bank today. Give me one minute.

15.00: The one minute coincides nicely with Mr TNT Man. Great - another thing not to wait in for tomorrow. We leave the house, walk to the library and choose 6 books. I do the banking while the kids scoot on to the park. I take a detour to get a takeaway coffee then drink it while watching them play. I collect Dragonvale coins and re-breed my 2 dragon pairs on my phone then we walk / scoot to the leisure centre. The entire pool is now our oyster as everyone can tread water for 30 seconds and swim a length without stopping. Madi and Jackson show me their diving. I can't dive. Water goes up my nose and fizzes around in my sinuses making my eyes water and the rest of me panic. We discover I can still swim faster than Ethan, even though he can easily outstrip me on land. I am happy. He is not, but hides it well.

19.00: We walk to Tesco and get picnic elements for tea. We meet Keith at train station and drive back to park and eat tea together in the sun. Jackson won't have to do his holiday dishes tonight. He is happy. He is glad his holiday job involves dishes and not laundry.

20.05: Brrr. Getting cold. We go home. Everyone gets ready for bed. No one needs a bath or shower as we are clean from swimming. Jammies on and straight to bed with new library books. Everyone is happy.

See what I mean? Things are a doddle now. I made these people. I enjoy their company. They are pleasant and helpful and after years of sacrifice and servitude it's payback time and they are actually quite useful. Especially Manchild. He can reach high stuff and carry heavy things. And at one hour on Minecraft and one Tassimo latte per day, he's easy to keep and quite good value.

So Roofing Child: Little tip for you (the art of small talk is such a tricky thing): Stick to comments about the weather- It's safer. And people like my mother in law love talking about rain and how the forecast is always wrong.

And TNT Man: Just bring me parcels, not conversation. Unless you want to request a go on the scooter. Kids love that. You will instantly become cool and get a swimming invitation which societal norms dictate you must decline.

Cooking issues (ongoing)

Our Cookiemoon is definitely fading. There's less enthusiasm for picking menus. Shopping is still fun and educational, but I only get willing volunteers if the alternative involves homework or getting ready for bed. After 20 years of meandering up and down the aisles in a carefree manner, I falter and panic without a list. The putting away of stuff on return home is getting old with K and me doing rock paper scissors to see who gets the fridge, and that's before the cooking part has even happened yet.

Hmm.

I can scrutinise our lifestyle and analyse it to death, but I think my basic problem is I like the kitchen to look like this:

But it often looks like this.

It also involves me spending much time doing this.

When I'd much rather be spending time with them (plus the 

biggest one who has refused photography permission).

Doing things like this.

And making things like this.

Then arguing over this.

Can someone please hurry up and invent this?

That would be great.