Blogger have been very kind to have kept my account open for so long, sometime in July being my last posting. My journal will empathise: I am always full of good intentions.
The Musician started school in September and I was hopeful that this would allow me to do more meaningful activities. Due to lack of blogging and journalling, I am not really sure where the time has actually gone. Certainly, The Lawyer started an intensive swimming course (particularly intensive for those of us having to chauffeur and spectate him), which is due to finish this weekend, ready for him to embark another one on Monday. I have been using that as an excuse in many cases: lack of housework, hastily (but alas, not tastily) prepared dinners, not catching up with friends.
Whatever the reason, it all just adds to my theory of the Law of Diminishing Me-time that every mother knows. At every stage since The Lawyer was born, I have been looking ahead to the next stage as giving me more Me-time... I am next still looking ahead to the stage which, now The Boys are at primary school, looks likely to be secondary school. These phases seem to get longer...
I hope my sister, dandling her firstborn on her knee, doesn't read this...
Wednesday, 26 November 2008
Friday, 11 July 2008
...
I am scratching my head trying to think of a title for this posting... This week has been, on the whole fascinating. I have been dreading it as The Doctor is away on a business trip. Actually, no change there, but he doesn't tend to go from a Sunday morning to a Saturday evening, guarding weekends fiercely as "belonging to The Boys". And he has never been to China which, despite the fact that a large number of our friends are being relocated there, seems so distant and other.
It is also the first week of the school holidays so I was somewhat dreading it. I then remembered that the verse in the Bible that says "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength" and that everything included being a single parent for a week.
The week has not been without its challenges. By day two we had, in order of seriousness in the eyes of The Lawyer: a squished front tooth belonging to the Musician (requiring an unscheduled trip to the dentist); a smashed Polish pottery spoon (purposely retrieved from the drawer by The Musician and hurled to the floor, with the words "I wonder who this belongs to?!" (=The Lawyer)); a deleted Mii, which happens to be The Doctor's and held Professional status in bowling.
Despite the challenges, The Boys would seem to have guided me onto a floaty cloud, where all my lists and objectives have been replaced (well, almost) by unscheduled Wii tournaments (thanks to deletion of above-mentioned Mii, I currently hold the highest score!), cookie dough preparation (none of us could be bothered to actually cut the stuff: maybe tomorrow) and an unhurried, lingering visit to the library. I haven't even had meals planned this week, which is quite an admission for a self-confessed control freak.
The best quotes of the week have been: "You haven't a fat tummy when you stand up, Mummy, so I would say you are OK"; "Well thank goodness I didn't delete my Mii"; "Do you like living with us, Mummy?"; "It wasn't a cow's throat I ate after all, it was a cow's aorta".
We are currently preparing for our first ever family camping trip, scheduled for next week. In that respect I am still in list heaven. People keep telling me I will hate it and are amazed that I, of all people, have agreed to being reduced to the relative basics of life. Do they not know I own Spiral Wellies and that my Boys (all three of them) are quite focused on teaching me the best things in life.
Perhaps this posting should be called 'A week worth living. Here's to the next one.'
It is also the first week of the school holidays so I was somewhat dreading it. I then remembered that the verse in the Bible that says "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength" and that everything included being a single parent for a week.
The week has not been without its challenges. By day two we had, in order of seriousness in the eyes of The Lawyer: a squished front tooth belonging to the Musician (requiring an unscheduled trip to the dentist); a smashed Polish pottery spoon (purposely retrieved from the drawer by The Musician and hurled to the floor, with the words "I wonder who this belongs to?!" (=The Lawyer)); a deleted Mii, which happens to be The Doctor's and held Professional status in bowling.
Despite the challenges, The Boys would seem to have guided me onto a floaty cloud, where all my lists and objectives have been replaced (well, almost) by unscheduled Wii tournaments (thanks to deletion of above-mentioned Mii, I currently hold the highest score!), cookie dough preparation (none of us could be bothered to actually cut the stuff: maybe tomorrow) and an unhurried, lingering visit to the library. I haven't even had meals planned this week, which is quite an admission for a self-confessed control freak.
The best quotes of the week have been: "You haven't a fat tummy when you stand up, Mummy, so I would say you are OK"; "Well thank goodness I didn't delete my Mii"; "Do you like living with us, Mummy?"; "It wasn't a cow's throat I ate after all, it was a cow's aorta".
We are currently preparing for our first ever family camping trip, scheduled for next week. In that respect I am still in list heaven. People keep telling me I will hate it and are amazed that I, of all people, have agreed to being reduced to the relative basics of life. Do they not know I own Spiral Wellies and that my Boys (all three of them) are quite focused on teaching me the best things in life.
Perhaps this posting should be called 'A week worth living. Here's to the next one.'
Friday, 20 June 2008
Where has all the orange gone...
I had been thinking that I was very remiss, as no observer of life in NL worth her salt would fail to mention the European Championships (football for the uninitiated). As it turns out, I have missed the boat as Holland are now out, having their hopes dashed by Russia.
Until 11.15pm on Saturday evening, everywhere was covered in orange, from schools, shops and offices, to cars, gardens and (usually) smart flowerpots. By the time I went out on Sunday morning, my neighbours had already removed the balloons and flags from their flag-poles (every Dutch house is built with a flag-pole holder. We keep discussing how it will go down if we one day hang out a St Andrew's flag...).
Similarly there is no sign of orange in the shops and they were literally covered in flags, orange cakes, orange beer packs... I am wondering if people had to work special shifts to obliterate orange, or if it is those mini robots on the task again.
The Boys persuaded us to buy them orange caps on Saturday (pre match). Try explaining to a three year old that, although his cap is new it is no longer acceptable to wear it. As we aren't Russian, and can't be seen to be mocking (esp as our team is Scotland, for goodness sake) I have relented and let The Musician wear his cap to school, and just had to take the sharp intakes of breath on the chin (strange phrase but it's staying).
It's all very sad, though, as the Dutch do love a party and we were looking forward to seeing how they would continue the festivities the further they got into the championship. Now we just have to turn our attention to the Brits celebrating Andy Murray...
Until 11.15pm on Saturday evening, everywhere was covered in orange, from schools, shops and offices, to cars, gardens and (usually) smart flowerpots. By the time I went out on Sunday morning, my neighbours had already removed the balloons and flags from their flag-poles (every Dutch house is built with a flag-pole holder. We keep discussing how it will go down if we one day hang out a St Andrew's flag...).
Similarly there is no sign of orange in the shops and they were literally covered in flags, orange cakes, orange beer packs... I am wondering if people had to work special shifts to obliterate orange, or if it is those mini robots on the task again.
The Boys persuaded us to buy them orange caps on Saturday (pre match). Try explaining to a three year old that, although his cap is new it is no longer acceptable to wear it. As we aren't Russian, and can't be seen to be mocking (esp as our team is Scotland, for goodness sake) I have relented and let The Musician wear his cap to school, and just had to take the sharp intakes of breath on the chin (strange phrase but it's staying).
It's all very sad, though, as the Dutch do love a party and we were looking forward to seeing how they would continue the festivities the further they got into the championship. Now we just have to turn our attention to the Brits celebrating Andy Murray...
Spick and Span
I was Googling the phrase spick and span this morning. As you do when you can't be bothered to dust or clean. Found some interesting stuff but I remained unconvinced. You see, living alongside the fastidious Dutch, I had my suspiscions, even certainties, that the word might have a Dutch derivation. I decided to go the old-fashioned route of looking up my Van Daal (= Oxford English) dictionary and there we have it: spiksplinternieuw means brand new. I am sure down the centuries spiksplinter could have metamorphed into spick and span.
The Dutch can teach us so much about tidy and clean houses that this seems wonderfully fitting. Having lived here seven years I have been hoping that I might have reached some level toward their high standards. Unfortunatley it doesn't seem to come as easily as drinking the same water or breathing the same air. So I thought it might be something in the school curriculum, but there is no mention in the school's handbook, and The Boys certainly don't seem to have grasped it in the same way they have learning to draw, prick out pictures (my mind boggles at the thought of 20 kids armed with needles: health and safety hasn't really come to NL. Not always such a bad thing, I can assure you).
I was excited one day when The Musician started singing "Wij gaan opruimen", which means "We are going to tidy up". However, he started heading for the toilet. On further investigation, I discover that, as his mini classmates dutifully opruim, he heads off to the loo. And who is going to argue with a three year old over whether he really does need to wee.
A further tactic has been to turn up at school cleaning evenings. So far I have had tips on window cleaning which was quite useful I suppose.
What I really want to get to the bottom of is how you can visit many a Dutch home unannounced and it is not only tidy but spiksplinteringly clean. And they have kids. And usually work.
One Dutch friends has a cleaning day every week with her mum. Her mum comes to her place, they clean, have a wee chat and they are bound to have a cup of coffee. Social cleaning is something I have tried to initiate amongst my international friends (not having our mums close by us), but no one seems willing to be first to cast her friends upon her house (or her house upon her friends, depending on your perspective).
Another friend, non-Dutch but has grown up here all her life, has gained two pieces of advice. First of all, have a cloth for everything. Second of all keep all that the public eye can see clean and tidy, and forget the private quarters. As I discovered the other day, public includes the side of your house. My neighbour was sweeping her wall the other day. Please can someone explain this one to me. It had never even made it to my "to do if I could be bothered list". Actually, it had never even entered my mind.
I shall continue to spy. If the truth be known, I am hoping to find they have secret mini robots so they can sit and drink coffee to their heart's content.
The Dutch can teach us so much about tidy and clean houses that this seems wonderfully fitting. Having lived here seven years I have been hoping that I might have reached some level toward their high standards. Unfortunatley it doesn't seem to come as easily as drinking the same water or breathing the same air. So I thought it might be something in the school curriculum, but there is no mention in the school's handbook, and The Boys certainly don't seem to have grasped it in the same way they have learning to draw, prick out pictures (my mind boggles at the thought of 20 kids armed with needles: health and safety hasn't really come to NL. Not always such a bad thing, I can assure you).
I was excited one day when The Musician started singing "Wij gaan opruimen", which means "We are going to tidy up". However, he started heading for the toilet. On further investigation, I discover that, as his mini classmates dutifully opruim, he heads off to the loo. And who is going to argue with a three year old over whether he really does need to wee.
A further tactic has been to turn up at school cleaning evenings. So far I have had tips on window cleaning which was quite useful I suppose.
What I really want to get to the bottom of is how you can visit many a Dutch home unannounced and it is not only tidy but spiksplinteringly clean. And they have kids. And usually work.
One Dutch friends has a cleaning day every week with her mum. Her mum comes to her place, they clean, have a wee chat and they are bound to have a cup of coffee. Social cleaning is something I have tried to initiate amongst my international friends (not having our mums close by us), but no one seems willing to be first to cast her friends upon her house (or her house upon her friends, depending on your perspective).
Another friend, non-Dutch but has grown up here all her life, has gained two pieces of advice. First of all, have a cloth for everything. Second of all keep all that the public eye can see clean and tidy, and forget the private quarters. As I discovered the other day, public includes the side of your house. My neighbour was sweeping her wall the other day. Please can someone explain this one to me. It had never even made it to my "to do if I could be bothered list". Actually, it had never even entered my mind.
I shall continue to spy. If the truth be known, I am hoping to find they have secret mini robots so they can sit and drink coffee to their heart's content.
Tuesday, 3 June 2008
Lang Geleden (= long ago)
It is so long since I last wrote. Those that know my uselessness at email writing would find no surprise in that. But, dear Blog, please be assured of my desperate attempts to be reunited. A mere two days after plucking up the courage to dip my toe in the ocean of blogging (how vast it seems to me, a novice), I received a VERY SERIOUS email telling me that I had perhaps been contravening T&Cs. I was, I have to admit, rather terrified and was half expecting the police to come banging on my door in the middle of the night.
A suggested reason was too many links in my blog. Well, as you can see this very untechnical blog has no links so far (I think...). All very strange and no explanation was ever given, but I am just glad to be writing this again and not, I hasten to add, from a prison cell.
As it turns out, this blog might just get a teensy bit interesting (about time, eh?!). In the interim we have been assured that The Doctor is on the point of being offered a sparklingly new job. The scary bit is we have no idea where this job many be located: Amsterdam, Paris or Dortmund. Possibly all three(!!!), so that we can stay put, neatly in the centre as Cadier en Keer, the hub of the universe, is. Well, I just continue to stand by a very special promise that was once made to me: 'For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' (Jeremiah 29 verse 11) 20 years or so down the line, I have plenty of evidence that this was (is) indeed a genuine promise.
I am not great at waiting around for any outcome, so I am so glad that I just need to read a little further in my Bible to discover my role in all this: 'Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you.' (verses 12-14) It really couldn't get better than that, really, could it.
Also since last writing, we have acquired a Wii. Any recommendations would be gladly received. Have just ordered Endless Ocean. Probably not quite what The Doctor had in mind when he invested in the technology, but there is going to be quite enough football around here for one girl, with the European Championships upon us (and we even live in a country that is taking part : don't ever move to the Netherlands if you are sensitive to the colour orange...)
A suggested reason was too many links in my blog. Well, as you can see this very untechnical blog has no links so far (I think...). All very strange and no explanation was ever given, but I am just glad to be writing this again and not, I hasten to add, from a prison cell.
As it turns out, this blog might just get a teensy bit interesting (about time, eh?!). In the interim we have been assured that The Doctor is on the point of being offered a sparklingly new job. The scary bit is we have no idea where this job many be located: Amsterdam, Paris or Dortmund. Possibly all three(!!!), so that we can stay put, neatly in the centre as Cadier en Keer, the hub of the universe, is. Well, I just continue to stand by a very special promise that was once made to me: 'For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.' (Jeremiah 29 verse 11) 20 years or so down the line, I have plenty of evidence that this was (is) indeed a genuine promise.
I am not great at waiting around for any outcome, so I am so glad that I just need to read a little further in my Bible to discover my role in all this: 'Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you.' (verses 12-14) It really couldn't get better than that, really, could it.
Also since last writing, we have acquired a Wii. Any recommendations would be gladly received. Have just ordered Endless Ocean. Probably not quite what The Doctor had in mind when he invested in the technology, but there is going to be quite enough football around here for one girl, with the European Championships upon us (and we even live in a country that is taking part : don't ever move to the Netherlands if you are sensitive to the colour orange...)
Friday, 23 May 2008
Pollyanna Principle
Started to wonder about the appropriateness of the term Pollyanna Thoughts. Long time since I read the book. According to Wikipedia, Pollyanna even has a whole optimism principle named after her. So PTs are here to stay. Amazing that I can remember the finer points of literature learned when I was ten, but struggle to remember anything about a book we are discussing at my Reading Group.
Freaky Friday
I have what I call Pollyanna Thoughts (PTs). I tend to have them when standing in the shower or on the way to picking the kids up from school. They are my bright, shiny ideas as to how the day, or the next few hours, or even (please!) minutes might turn out. To clarify, here are some examples from today.
Shower PT: Cycle Boys to school. Return. A wee bit tidying up and then a morning learning about this blog thing and some reading. Cycle to pick boys up from school. Drop by the kermis (fairground activities) in the village and let Lawyer and Musician have unlimited fun on the fairground rides. Come home with Boys that love me, think I am a great Mama and will therefore eat (healthy) lunch and play nicely, in the sunny garden, all afternoon. Whilst I conquer blogging and read some more.
Somewhere along the line life doesn't quite turn out the way I had planned... as per usual.
Reality: At breakfast suddenly remember that Lawyer is supposed to bring in a photo of himself enjoying the summer. The computer and printer refuse to cooperate so that, not only do we turn up late but photo-less. And in the car instead of on bikes.
Get home and remember dishwasher and washing machine (DW and WM: better give them own names as may well feature a lot future blogs) both need attention. Decide to ignore them and do a bit of reading. Phone rings. Number of friend haven't seen for a while pops up: answer it. On wrong phone so can't even get to needy DW and WM. Can't be bothered to say I'm going to switch phones. Half an hour later wished I had.
Hang up. Phone rings again. Dad 1. Pick it up. On wrong phone again. Duh! Can literally hear DW and WM demanding attention, so switch phones. Not that hard, really.
Very Important Parcel arrives. Need to tell Mum and Dad 2 that it is here. More time on phone.
Time to get Boys. In car as not enough time to walk. En route note kermis is not up and ready.
Collect Boys. Lawyer is sporting a red dot on his hand as he has not brought in photo. Am so cross that he has been marked out like this and it is not his fault.
The sun is shining (at least the sun was paying attention to my PTs), though, so plan is still to play in garden. Musician announces he is tired and "wants to watch something". Agree as it has been a long week and am determined to be free and easy as we have no sporting activities or other diaried events (rare indeed). Lawyer thinks playing outside is good idea but gets drawn into watching TV. An hour later, Lawyer asks how much longer it will be before he gets square eyes. Next question: why has he never seen anyone with square eyes.
Venture outside with laptop, only to discover next door's painter is listening to a local radio station, playing local Dutch "music" (sounds like really bad German folk music of the strong oompah variety). So now we are all squashed up inside, watching Tweenies, which we all hate, so best move on. Won't even bore you with why my thumb is now bleeding all over the keyboard.
Somehow I manage to remain optimistic and more PTs will follow. Even tomorrow. A Saturday, when no one wants to make a decision about whenwe should progress from pyjamas and we all descend into a state of frustration and boredome.
When life isn't going according to PTs I am often reminded, often mid-tantrum, that this isn't all there is. We're on a journey. Thank goodness.
Shower PT: Cycle Boys to school. Return. A wee bit tidying up and then a morning learning about this blog thing and some reading. Cycle to pick boys up from school. Drop by the kermis (fairground activities) in the village and let Lawyer and Musician have unlimited fun on the fairground rides. Come home with Boys that love me, think I am a great Mama and will therefore eat (healthy) lunch and play nicely, in the sunny garden, all afternoon. Whilst I conquer blogging and read some more.
Somewhere along the line life doesn't quite turn out the way I had planned... as per usual.
Reality: At breakfast suddenly remember that Lawyer is supposed to bring in a photo of himself enjoying the summer. The computer and printer refuse to cooperate so that, not only do we turn up late but photo-less. And in the car instead of on bikes.
Get home and remember dishwasher and washing machine (DW and WM: better give them own names as may well feature a lot future blogs) both need attention. Decide to ignore them and do a bit of reading. Phone rings. Number of friend haven't seen for a while pops up: answer it. On wrong phone so can't even get to needy DW and WM. Can't be bothered to say I'm going to switch phones. Half an hour later wished I had.
Hang up. Phone rings again. Dad 1. Pick it up. On wrong phone again. Duh! Can literally hear DW and WM demanding attention, so switch phones. Not that hard, really.
Very Important Parcel arrives. Need to tell Mum and Dad 2 that it is here. More time on phone.
Time to get Boys. In car as not enough time to walk. En route note kermis is not up and ready.
Collect Boys. Lawyer is sporting a red dot on his hand as he has not brought in photo. Am so cross that he has been marked out like this and it is not his fault.
The sun is shining (at least the sun was paying attention to my PTs), though, so plan is still to play in garden. Musician announces he is tired and "wants to watch something". Agree as it has been a long week and am determined to be free and easy as we have no sporting activities or other diaried events (rare indeed). Lawyer thinks playing outside is good idea but gets drawn into watching TV. An hour later, Lawyer asks how much longer it will be before he gets square eyes. Next question: why has he never seen anyone with square eyes.
Venture outside with laptop, only to discover next door's painter is listening to a local radio station, playing local Dutch "music" (sounds like really bad German folk music of the strong oompah variety). So now we are all squashed up inside, watching Tweenies, which we all hate, so best move on. Won't even bore you with why my thumb is now bleeding all over the keyboard.
Somehow I manage to remain optimistic and more PTs will follow. Even tomorrow. A Saturday, when no one wants to make a decision about whenwe should progress from pyjamas and we all descend into a state of frustration and boredome.
When life isn't going according to PTs I am often reminded, often mid-tantrum, that this isn't all there is. We're on a journey. Thank goodness.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)