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Showing posts from March, 2010

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons. TS Eliot

(or take away cups as the case may be! LT) This was my thought for the day, before reading the online newspaper – and made me realise how shallow my life is… Margaret Page succeeded in starving herself to death in 16 days. I find that amazing, mind blowing and strangely admirable. I couldn’t do anything so determined. Although I have not lost my will to live. She was very smart, it was not an easy option but one very difficult for anyone to challenge although her (ex?) husband did try. I guess they would have had to subdue her with drugs and feed her intravenously if they were to force her to eat, and I guess this also raises its own ethical debate. There was also a story that I first read this morning about a young man in a foreign country who cut off his manhood and threw it down a well, because the woman of his life chose to be with someone else. That is commitment. It takes cutting off your nose to spite your face to new extremes. I could not find the article when I went back to lo

Mid week madness...

Peas. I committed the cardinal sin of motherhood yesterday and put peas in the bolognaise sauce. I dont know why, I know better than this. Mince dishes are very forgiving and you can hide a lot of evil vegetables, but not peas. It really should be illegal to put mince and peas together, ever. In tidying up the dinner table I discovered the error of my ways with stealthily placed peas only just hidden around the base of each plate. Never again. Growing Up. My 14 year old is going through a chatty stage at the moment. She is being open with me and asking lots of questions about life. She can be very guarded so I am particularly enjoying that at the moment. She is enjoying the novel they are reading for English, and it would be the first I have not had to read with her and translate at every sentence, so that is good. It is a teen angst/coming of age novel so the language and concepts will be readily available to her. It seems to have hit the mark with many of the girls and initiating l

Village People

I live in a village. Friday afternoon... friend turns up early to a) pick up son b) she knows there will be wine and good conversation. I have an easy meal to prepare and plenty of it so I invite them to stay (I can cater for an extra family of five at the drop of a hat). The husbands come home in due course, one brings more wine – isn’t texting a wonderful thing – and kids watch a DVD, although they do get a bit ticked off with the rowdy parents. At some stage it is decided that all the kids will stay the night, and we sort them out into various bunk beds and mattresses on the floor. Parents walk home close to midnight. The next day at 9.30am six of the kids migrate south down the road and stay there all day and the next night. We contemplate the attractive concept of week about parenting... I only see my kids briefly as I call in for a glass of wine and freshly caught crayfish. The next morning I turn up earlier than expected and find them all in their pyjamas. My friend starts to f

Life in a village

You realize you live in a village when you ring the AA (not alcoholics anonymous although that may be coming) and your nextdoor neighbour comes to rescue you, and then proceeds to tease you for being blond and doing whatever stupid thing you have done to require you to ring the AA, in front of your new friend who does happen to be blond. Breathe…. Back to the beginning. In dropping off new friend brought home from school to play by small boys, mother vacates the car and small boys ignore mother’s command to stay in said car, that still has the motor running, and activate the central locking as they vacate the vehicle. Feeling like a dufus, mother rings the AA who say they hope to be there within the hour. Mother knows that her neighbour is an AA mechanic but does not want to abuse the neighbourly relationship and sits and waits with new friends… now friends due to extra time spent talking due to locked/running car situation. I realize I recognize this mother, point of memorable diffe

If busyness made one happy I would be ecstatic…

I just got a book out of the library called ‘How to be happy, dammit’ – it appeals to my sense of humour, and also my mode of operation. I might request 'She was happy, dammit' to be put on my headstone, when I die. It reminds me of a wine-fuelled speech I made one New Years Eve, using our outdoor table as my soapbox. Surrounded my a few of my closest friends I was confident of a sympathetic audience, and challenged everyone that they had no excuses NOT to be happy and also no excuses not to do absolutely fabulous things with their lives. We were the most privileged people in the world I argued. We were young, financially sound, European (a sad, and unfortunate truth but one we should respond to appropriately), able bodied, intelligent, educated, free from oppression and war, mobile, fertile, the list went on and on. We had and have nothing to complain about. But I wonder if that also makes us complacent. To become a stunning butterfly the stodgey caterpillar has to struggle a

He Reo Aroha - Love Language

I have been very slack in one sense since the boys have been born. Out of necessity I have not tried to forge new relationships, conserving a bit of energy. It is very obvious now that I do not know very many of the mums at school of the boys’ peer group, a few but not many, whereas with both of the girls I know everybody. With that in mind, there are a few that I do know and I have made a concerted effort to have more decent conversations with them recently. One of them has been recruiting for a Sunday indoor netball team so I have decided to tag along. Yesterday she had a ‘meeting’ at her house which really was an excuse to socialize and drink wine – both of which I was ready for. I left at 6 but apparently the evening continued and there will be sore heads this morning. But I had somewhere else to be. He Reo Aroha. Stunning. She had me at ‘hello’. She opened her mouth and I was captivated. He was awesome too, and they were fantastic together. A wonderful two person performance of a

This house is full of noise, toys and boys

It is a normal day, a normal Monday afternoon. I have five seven year old boys playing with lego, two 10 year old girls doing whatever 10 year old girls do, something pink and fluffy, and any minute now two teenagers will walk in the door, hot, tired and hungry. Hot; as it’s a glorious Wellington day – and I am feeling the need for Fish and Chips on the beach, tired; as they both were at the fantastic Phoenix game last night, and hungry because they are teenagers and teenagers always seem to be hungry, especially the sixteen year old male variety. People think I am crazy when I have so many in my house. Crazy or just numb I haven't decided. I have music on in the background, have brought the washing in, and am thinking about what to have for dinner. It is surprisingly calm for this wee house in the suburbs filled with little people. It’s nice. It’s been a busy weekend with family. A’s mum here from OZ. She has only recently moved to Australia, to avoid mid-life crisis I guess, and

Juliet, Naked

Finally finished meandering my way through Nick Hornby’s latest book, “ Juliet, Naked ”. I have read the last five of his books and attempted a sixth, and I think I might give up. Nick is known for being a witty voyeur really, commenting comically and often ironically about life and less than perfect main characters. I was lulled into a false faith with the first two books I read. How to be Good is a story about a woman whose (slightly lacking, boring and selfish) husband goes through some sort of non-religious ‘conversion’ and becomes Mr Super Nice Guy of a guru nature, and sets out to ‘change the world’ a previously foreign concept to him. The story focuses more on her inability to allow him to change and be “good”. It is incredibly subtle and funny, and very believably written from a woman’s narrative. About a Boy . The main character is a man who hasn’t grown up and borrows his neighbour’s 11 year old son to attend a solo parents group to meet women. Inevitably it’s a life-enhanci

Conversations

Conversation at the dinner table regularly goes something like this To number one seven year old son… in response to the inevitable "I don’t like this" - you need to eat or you will get sick, - I wont get sick, - you can if you don’t eat properly, your bones and muscles need to grow etc etc blah blah blah - I do eat properly, - eating properly means eating meat and vegetables, - I don’t like meat and vegetables - just eat it… He doesn't. I remind myself that it is very unlikely that I will be having the same conversations in a few years time, and that keeping up with the appetite will be the new challenge. To number two son… - put that book down it is dinner time... there is just something wrong with telling a child to stop reading… To number two daughter who had alternated all day between vomiting and complaining of being hungry, - You dont have to eat it all, just eat a little bit - but I will be sick, - but you will be hungry, I hear the nonsense parenting voice come