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.
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