22 Oct 2014

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....



6 Oct 2014

Exchanges

The first time I try out any unfamiliar currency I always have this nagging doubt in the back of my brain like I'm about to be busted. Like someone's going to call me out on this and I'll have to admit that yes- here I was about to trade something real and tangible and useful for a bit of coloured paper. Sorry.

So far this hasn't happened, but what if (after the apocalypse) it stops working? Then I'll know I've been right all along and have just been playing the game along with everyone else pretending I understood why.*



*We have found and agreed upon the lowest common denominator that's a bit more compact and easier to transport that goats.

5 Oct 2014

Riches

So... After months of planning and fund raising and visa applications and injections and ordering currency and (v last minute) packing we've been to Kenya and come home again and I'm left feeling a bit like a kid on Boxing Day - wishing it was Christmas Eve again so I could do it all over again. 

(And when I say it I mean the bit that happened when the plane took off as all the preparation was pretty much done for me. All I did was follow the email instructions, get jabbed when I was told to and show up at the airport).

I totally wasn't prepared for this. I thought the being away bit would be hard if anything was going to be- not the being home. It probably didn't help that we were so manic with work in the run up to going and I was so (unusually) super organised that I've come back to a tidy office and an empty inbox - bar the junk emails and voicemail messages I get copied into, so there's nothing to get distracted by and focus on. Maybe just as well as I've no energy or motivation to do anything. 

Chris said it's not unheard of for people to spend a short time volunteering in a far off land, be exposed to extreme poverty and hardship, then return home to the western lifestyle and suffer a mental breakdown. Ha! The Larium (anti malarial) is starting to look a less attractive option now- although it was the cheapest. Which is why I'm on it. The vivid dreams are quite fun though.

I'm not in melt down. I'm just working out what the changes mean. Like puberty I guess- there's no going back. You can't unsee the slums.

I'm having flashbacks to student nights out half a lifetime ago... Fury Murrays in Glasgow... a permanently sticky dance floor... air thick with fag smoke (masking the flatulence and BO)... clutching bottled cider (harder to spike and easier to dance with)... singing along to James with my best mate:

Now I've swung back down again
It's worse than it was before
If I hadn't seen such riches
I could live with being poor
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Oh sit down
Sit down next to me...

Except the lyrics have flipped round in my head. And I don't know what the consequences will be. 

I am rich.

I've always known this and been grateful for it. Even when our card has bounced at the checkout or we couldn't go food shopping til the child tax credit came in or we had to put just enough fuel in the car to get it home rather than fill it up properly. Even then things were good. We had a home and smart price tinned goods in the cupboard. There was no danger of starving to death or having to sell a kidney or one of the children.

I am really, really proper rich. Super dooper wealthy. With an eternal inheritance as well.

Kah-Ching!

And now I have to live with it knowing that poverty exists.

It really does.

11 Sept 2014

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.


27 Aug 2014

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.

18 Aug 2014

RIP Calvin & Hobbes



Whether fan fiction or an original, this has to be the saddest cartoon strip ever.

4 Aug 2014

Mine mine mine!

A few weeks ago we signed up to Geocaching and like over 6 million people around the globe, we are in the process of finding and logging the 2.4 million+ caches around the world, starting with the 8000+ ones hidden here in the UK. So far we have logged 34 of them. It's a long term project.

The boot of the car now contains essential caching equipment so we can spontaneously pull over in random locations en-route to somewhere else and search for undiscovered treasure.

Kit list:
• Gardening gloves
• Pruning shears
• Pen
• A long branch (acquired during cache find 26)
• Piriton (Manchild has hayfever)
• Small treasure tupperware of lego bricks, cinema ticket stubbs, shells and loom band bracelets
• iPhone (not in boot, but constantly on person as we are sad that way).

Our limited hunting experience has unearthed 3 trackables- items with their own ID tags which allow them to be tracked online by their owners as they are placed, retrieved then carried to the next cache in the real world.

Trackables are given a goal of reaching a particular country, or series of locations, or in the case of Futuristic Freddy (retrieved from Cullompton services and deposited in Bridgend) seeing as much of planet earth as possible before returning home to the planet Zarg. Whatever goal the owner sets, 6 million fellow cachers are pledged to assist as long as they are nearby, have a decent phone signal and no Muggles are watching.

One of the trackables currently in our possession wishes to reach Scotland. I was in Scotland a week and a half ago. I could have made someone's dream come true but it's still sitting at the front door because we forget about it. Trackables are not stored with common or garden caching treasure in The Tupperware. (They are too special and would make the loom bands jealous).

We need to get a move on and deposit it SOMEwhere though, even if it's not in Scotland or even North of our position right now. Cachiquette requires that hunters keep trackables in their possession for no longer than 2 weeks and time is running out! Of all the things going on my life right now that require urgent attention- like the kids passports arriving in time for the flight we have already booked in 4 days time, losing a car key for a hire car resulting in K being temporarily stranded 230 miles away, invoicing our last job so we can pay the suppliers who helped us deliver our last job and a flea colony in one of the bedrooms (which our house sitters pretty much dealt with in our absence thank you very much and sorry about the bites), getting rid of the coin is consuming my thoughts a little more than it should.

Because it's not ours to keep.




Ownership is a strange thing.

Sometimes what isn't actually ours can appear to be so, purely because of the length of time we've had it. If I keep the trackable coin, it won't cease to belong to it's true owner - I'll just annoy whoever that is and maybe get an arsey email or have our account suspended or something. The coin won't become mine just because I choose to keep it.

Paul said the message of Jesus is just like this. It's a trackable. It's meant to go far and wide and change lives wherever it goes- because it's owner has set the mission and wants it that way.

The trackable doesn't belong in one place. One people group, country or denomination does not have the monopoly on Grace. It's for everyone and it's free. And if you keep hold of it you violate the rules of play and prevent others from coming into contact with it. You become a gatekeeper. A Pharisee. A trackable thief.

Some people try to referee- but the mission is to sign up and play. To leave the treasure at another cache, ready for the seekers who are already on their way to find it.

I don’t care about my own life. The most important thing is that I complete my mission, the work that the Lord Jesus gave me—to tell people the Good News about God’s grace. (Acts 20:24)

28 Jun 2014

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.