I love high class problems.
'We have terrible jetlag from our long haul holiday'
'The nanny is leaving me and I have no idea what to do with my son during the day'
'I can't get into Thursday night yoga class'
clearly - these are the real problems of first World, modern day society.
Friday, 17 June 2011
more 17 June 2011
Did I mention that last weekend was my birthday? I always have high expectations for my birthday that are always dashed by something silly. This year - none of my gifts had arrived yet. To be clear - they still haven't arrived a week later. This is attached to the fact that my husband REFUSES to shop and orders everything on line and is then REALLY surprised when it takes much longer than expected.
Anyway - on Sunday, day post-birthday, we go to the inlaws to spend the day. We are meant to be picking strawberries, but clearly the farm is out of strawberries. Right. Like not one strawberry. Weird.
So we end up taking the kids to a god-awful indoor play place because it is a cold and raining - it is June after all and we are in the UK. So after that, we go back to the Inlaws where we do all the crazy things that we normally do there - drink wine, eat, take random naps, watch Teletubbies (this is clearly a tradition that my 4 year old will not give up - we will probably be watching that f-ing video (not DVD) when she is 24.)
Anyway - my father-in-law is the quintessential father-in-law. He comes complete with dad jokes, candy that makes the children's teeth fall out on contact, and endless patience for board games and coloring books and ping pong with small people who take forever to play or finish any of these things. He is also always right and has never met a stranger. You could leave him alone for 30 seconds in desert and when you came back he would have made friends with the only bedouin within 100 miles.
So - to get on with the funny bit. Father in law and I got to chatting over our second bottle of lunch-wine when he started tell me about 'that singer who was evicted from America for going to Muhammadism.' I had to immeadiately leave the room to find a piece of paper to write that down. It was that good. Muhammadism? Amanzing. I will also let Cat Stevens know ASAP. I this same bottle of wine, he also came out with 'rockin' it', 'smoochey dances', and 'porn'. It was a good bottle of wine. He isn't always full of such good material.
Anyway - on Sunday, day post-birthday, we go to the inlaws to spend the day. We are meant to be picking strawberries, but clearly the farm is out of strawberries. Right. Like not one strawberry. Weird.
So we end up taking the kids to a god-awful indoor play place because it is a cold and raining - it is June after all and we are in the UK. So after that, we go back to the Inlaws where we do all the crazy things that we normally do there - drink wine, eat, take random naps, watch Teletubbies (this is clearly a tradition that my 4 year old will not give up - we will probably be watching that f-ing video (not DVD) when she is 24.)
Anyway - my father-in-law is the quintessential father-in-law. He comes complete with dad jokes, candy that makes the children's teeth fall out on contact, and endless patience for board games and coloring books and ping pong with small people who take forever to play or finish any of these things. He is also always right and has never met a stranger. You could leave him alone for 30 seconds in desert and when you came back he would have made friends with the only bedouin within 100 miles.
So - to get on with the funny bit. Father in law and I got to chatting over our second bottle of lunch-wine when he started tell me about 'that singer who was evicted from America for going to Muhammadism.' I had to immeadiately leave the room to find a piece of paper to write that down. It was that good. Muhammadism? Amanzing. I will also let Cat Stevens know ASAP. I this same bottle of wine, he also came out with 'rockin' it', 'smoochey dances', and 'porn'. It was a good bottle of wine. He isn't always full of such good material.
17 June 2011
Work makes me crazy. It malkes me crazy because I am good at it and I really enjoy the people I work with and I know what I am supposed to do...but sometimes I am so freaked out I cry at my desk.
So professional right?
What I really want to do is hard to explain.
I want to work - to make my own money and to have a life that it not just being a mom and a delivery service for my kids.
I want to hang out with the people that are not like me so I remember that I am here on this planet with interesting people and not just a bunch of middle class mummy's like myself. These are the people I would end up spending all my time with if I drove the kids to school and then went to yoga or lunch or the PTA meeting. I am sort of jealous of these people. I like the IDEA of dropping kids off and then going to yoga/having mummy lunches/cups of tea with friends/lazy gardening, but I know that I could only do this for so long before I got bored and started looking for an office job.
I assume I am not the only person like this...that needs to fill their time with work that makes you think and work that makes you stressed out and worried and anxious just so you know when you get home to your little ones, no matter how crazy they are being, it is ok...because chocolate ice cream and Scooby Doo on the sofa with mom will solve their problems. Their skinned knees and the friend that was mean at school.
A little love goes a long way when kids are concerned. Not like that at the office really.
I am not one of those people that knew what I wanted to be when I was 10 and I made that dream come true. Wish I was, and my dad and my husband are both like that - just cannot get enough of their job. JEALOUSY. I am also not naturally good at anything. Well, not entirely true. Husband says I am really good at making people think it was their idea. Not sure that is a skill in which I could start a business. It isn't like 'baking cupcakes' or 'dog grooming' which both lend themselves to cottage industry type businesses. Wouldn't it be great to be able to start a little business and make it work and love it and WANT to do it everyday and make a bit of money in the meantime. What are the odds? Slim I imagine.
Oh well, I'll just keep doing what I am doing...and getting upset and stresed out and getting promoted and loving who I work with and making enough but not enough. Phew...did I mention the stupid meetings? There should be a game that rational people could play in stupid meetings. Maybe that can be my new project.
So the funny life part of all the rambling is that my coworker just told me that he WON a dance-off in a gay bar in Cape Town. This is possibly my favourite story ever. Surely this is why I work - so I get to hear stories like this. Also it is Friday - which means that ALL the crazy children come to the clinic and scream alot up and down the hallways and lock their clinicians out of the therapy rooms and throw things out the windows...which puzzles our mean-old-man security guard to no end. Another enjoyable moment in my day.
So professional right?
What I really want to do is hard to explain.
I want to work - to make my own money and to have a life that it not just being a mom and a delivery service for my kids.
I want to hang out with the people that are not like me so I remember that I am here on this planet with interesting people and not just a bunch of middle class mummy's like myself. These are the people I would end up spending all my time with if I drove the kids to school and then went to yoga or lunch or the PTA meeting. I am sort of jealous of these people. I like the IDEA of dropping kids off and then going to yoga/having mummy lunches/cups of tea with friends/lazy gardening, but I know that I could only do this for so long before I got bored and started looking for an office job.
I assume I am not the only person like this...that needs to fill their time with work that makes you think and work that makes you stressed out and worried and anxious just so you know when you get home to your little ones, no matter how crazy they are being, it is ok...because chocolate ice cream and Scooby Doo on the sofa with mom will solve their problems. Their skinned knees and the friend that was mean at school.
A little love goes a long way when kids are concerned. Not like that at the office really.
I am not one of those people that knew what I wanted to be when I was 10 and I made that dream come true. Wish I was, and my dad and my husband are both like that - just cannot get enough of their job. JEALOUSY. I am also not naturally good at anything. Well, not entirely true. Husband says I am really good at making people think it was their idea. Not sure that is a skill in which I could start a business. It isn't like 'baking cupcakes' or 'dog grooming' which both lend themselves to cottage industry type businesses. Wouldn't it be great to be able to start a little business and make it work and love it and WANT to do it everyday and make a bit of money in the meantime. What are the odds? Slim I imagine.
Oh well, I'll just keep doing what I am doing...and getting upset and stresed out and getting promoted and loving who I work with and making enough but not enough. Phew...did I mention the stupid meetings? There should be a game that rational people could play in stupid meetings. Maybe that can be my new project.
So the funny life part of all the rambling is that my coworker just told me that he WON a dance-off in a gay bar in Cape Town. This is possibly my favourite story ever. Surely this is why I work - so I get to hear stories like this. Also it is Friday - which means that ALL the crazy children come to the clinic and scream alot up and down the hallways and lock their clinicians out of the therapy rooms and throw things out the windows...which puzzles our mean-old-man security guard to no end. Another enjoyable moment in my day.
Sunday, 31 October 2010
Sunday, 31 October
It is Sunday. It is raining. It is Halloween, I think. To be sure, I am unclear whether I was supposed to celebrate yesterday or today as we are in the
It makes me laugh that if you really have a great day with the kids, then at the end of the day, one of them at least loses all control of their little personality and falls apart. Usually in public. Yesterday it was Catherine in
By the time we were heading home, she just could not hold it together anymore and started crying...and crying...and crying. Just the sure exhaustion of the day had taken over and she melted into a pile of damp teary little girl. I love moments like these for a few reasons:
1) I know I have shown her a great time
2) I know she is going to sleep like a champ
but most of all
3) I am completely jealous, because how often do I feel like doing that myself after a crap day at work or a fall out with my parents? Just in the grocery store or on the bus just want to start whining and crying out loud with no worry. Such a bonus of youth.
We are supposed to head to brunch with some friends at 11. I am meant to take brownies which are still in the box.
Stuart has already had a few good whacks at his sister this morning, which probably didn't hurt, but you'd have thought he had stabbed her from all the tears.
My husband is playing video games.
It is daylight savings.
I need a drink.
Saturday, 30 October 2010
Getting Started
Like everyone I know, I have always thought about writing a book. But the likelihood of that happening is slim and what I decided I really wanted to do was write down the seriously funny things that happen to me. Probably a diary, maybe a voyeuristic treat for those who want to peek into my crazed world, but definitely a written memory of things that make me laugh, and things that should make me laugh in the future about the daily chaos.
I was trying to do this through my facebook page, but it just wasn't working. Besides facebook has become a place where everyone I have ever met, and some who I haven't but almost did, are connected to me in a strange virtual world where I now know about people I probably wouldn't recognise on the street. These people as well now feel they know me and therefore have comments on what I do and what happens in my life. To be frank, I don't like alot of them. I should delete them...but who has the time?
So, this morning has been ridiculous beyond reason. Most recently by 17 month old thug son, Stuart just whacked his father in the testicles. Adding 'cup' to dad's stocking list. I was unaware of all the protective clothing one needs as a parent. So this morning we did get a very small lie in - til about 7:45 when my 4 year old, Catherine, came in to tell me that the cats were climbing the drapes and she needed the squirt bottle. Squirt bottle in hand, she runs off to torture the unsuspecting cats. Alex and I snuggle back down hoping to catch a few more minutes of snooze time. Stuart pipes up and then Catherine returns, now chasing the cats with the squirt bottle. Cats, being more clever than my 4 year old, are now securely hidden under the bed out of site so Catherine goes to town the bald patch of carpet with the squirt bottle. She says she is 'fixing it'....or as it turns out, creating a puddle in the bedroom.
About this time, boy cat, Giles, jumps onto my bedside table and manages to get half his body wedged into my empty water glass to lick the dregs of what is left. Catherine squeals, runs for the cat, Stuart cries and throws something that makes a significant bang. It is time to get up.
Typical family morning. Stuart eats his pancakes and mine so I am left with coffee. I call it a diet. I decide to wash the sheets which are covered in jammy hand prints and paw prints and in doing so the top of the stain remover falls out and it dumps all over the floor, as I am on all fours in the bathroom wiping up the mess with the duvet cover, Catherine comes to tell me that when I covered her up with the coochey blanket, I did it all wrong and I needed to come do it again.
This is where I have my first hysterical laughter of the day.
Welcome to Frances Funny Life.
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