It was Small Sprogs birthday last week. He is a not such a small sprog now; (according to his sister) he swears like a trouper on the school bus, his upper lip has a slight shadow and he doesn't give out unconditional hugs any more (not to his mother anyway). Yet inside I know he is still the same Small Sprog; he still wants to know how many atoms are in an ant and he still imagines ridiculous scenarios at meal times - "What if a big dinosaur came down the road right now?..." -that sort of thing. Though his pre-teen self doesn't like to leave the sofa unnecessarily and all the best wishes he got on Facebook were from girls!
But I still love him as a small sprog and I still want to hug him, but that's not part of this part of the game now, hardly ever. Yet in one of his moments he will butter me up and tell me I'm the best mummy in the world; if he doesn't make guitar hero I reckon car salesman is right up his street!
I know he is not mine, he is his own person, I do not own him but I am borrowing him until he can make it in this world on his own. Sometimes it's hard.
For his birthday we took him Go Carting, it was brilliant. After that all his friends came back here and whiled away an hour shooting each other with Nerf Guns before eating their own body weight in pizza and birthday cake. As I lit the candles on the cake Tall Girl hissed at me: Don't sing! (God forbid I do something dreadful to embarrass her) However I had already checked myself before her stage directions had left her lips; he was 12 now, he certainly didn't want his mum singing 'Happy Birthday' to his friends did he?
So as I approached the table, holding the cake with the lighted candles in front of me, one of his good friends burst into song: Happy birthday to you. He wasn't embarrassed I thought, how brilliant, it's still perfectly acceptable to sing 'The Song' when you are about to be twelve years old. We all sang together, however I'm under no illusions that they may well be singing far more risky songs together in the future and I definitely won't be party to those!
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
Boys
Friday night
Me: Can you take up his hot chocolate...What are they doing up there?
Tall Girl: Boy things
Me: Oh
Tall Girl: They are being boys and making funny smells.
Ewww?...Sort of sums it up then!
Me: Can you take up his hot chocolate...What are they doing up there?
Tall Girl: Boy things
Me: Oh
Tall Girl: They are being boys and making funny smells.
Ewww?...Sort of sums it up then!
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
At last
Yesterday I spent the day at mums. She likes to see her only child, too much sometimes.
We mooch about for the day, doing nothing inparticular - drinking tea, window shopping- though I took jobs to do too; Some sewing, and I wrapped up all Small Sprogs birthday presents ( he will be 12 next Monday. We are Go Karting on Sunday, if all goes to plan) which she didn't seem to mind.
While she was cooking dinner she started to talk about her relationship. They have been married 36 years, and I, being only a child when they met, have been with them all the way, through the ups and downs, hell and high water. That's how some of it seemed.
Yet here they are now in front of me; my step father is soon to be 81 and is as fit as the first day I met him, mum is a few years younger and has slowed noticeably in the last few years. They are laughing together and fooling about. I notice (and take note) that even at my age / their age, seeing your parents fool about is still embarrassing!
She tells me later that they have been happy for the last few years. She says it in a dreamy sort of way. Thank goodness for that! I want to say because it has been a damn long time coming, but instead I say that it's usually the other way around, people fall out of love or forget to make each other happy. Yes, she smiles like she has got it right this time... If only it hadn't taken over 30 years.
We mooch about for the day, doing nothing inparticular - drinking tea, window shopping- though I took jobs to do too; Some sewing, and I wrapped up all Small Sprogs birthday presents ( he will be 12 next Monday. We are Go Karting on Sunday, if all goes to plan) which she didn't seem to mind.
While she was cooking dinner she started to talk about her relationship. They have been married 36 years, and I, being only a child when they met, have been with them all the way, through the ups and downs, hell and high water. That's how some of it seemed.
Yet here they are now in front of me; my step father is soon to be 81 and is as fit as the first day I met him, mum is a few years younger and has slowed noticeably in the last few years. They are laughing together and fooling about. I notice (and take note) that even at my age / their age, seeing your parents fool about is still embarrassing!
She tells me later that they have been happy for the last few years. She says it in a dreamy sort of way. Thank goodness for that! I want to say because it has been a damn long time coming, but instead I say that it's usually the other way around, people fall out of love or forget to make each other happy. Yes, she smiles like she has got it right this time... If only it hadn't taken over 30 years.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Onwards to 2012
I'm not ever really sure that I like New Year, it's sometimes too much of a marker of time, more so than Christmas for me because that day is always awash with food and merriment, children and good things. Perhaps I have my mother to thank for that, she was the 'Memory Maker' of past Christmases and I have been blessed with may good ones and have been endowed with a 'blue print' for more ( hopefully) to come.
However new year is different. As a child in my own family it was never regarded as special and consequently I have always struggled to make it special myself, it has never been a family occasion. Over the years I have spent new year with all sorts of friends various; I feel quite envious of those who have a routine for new year. But each time it comes around I always remember exactly what I was doing last year, the year before, the one before that, the millennium, the year I this that and the othered! It's just too much of a marker...
This year we are having a quiet and civilised meal out and then coming home to look after the cat because he hates fireworks! The children are with their dad, it will be the 2nd new year I have spent without them but we shall text and Facebook, where would we be without that?!
So, as you can see, new year makes me thoughtful and ponderous. I look forward to the year to come with excitement and trepidation all at once. I have a long and growing grateful list and it is this that I shall be considering as I pass between this year and the next.
Happy New Year to all my virtual and non virtual friends, may 2012 bring good things to us all.
However new year is different. As a child in my own family it was never regarded as special and consequently I have always struggled to make it special myself, it has never been a family occasion. Over the years I have spent new year with all sorts of friends various; I feel quite envious of those who have a routine for new year. But each time it comes around I always remember exactly what I was doing last year, the year before, the one before that, the millennium, the year I this that and the othered! It's just too much of a marker...
This year we are having a quiet and civilised meal out and then coming home to look after the cat because he hates fireworks! The children are with their dad, it will be the 2nd new year I have spent without them but we shall text and Facebook, where would we be without that?!
So, as you can see, new year makes me thoughtful and ponderous. I look forward to the year to come with excitement and trepidation all at once. I have a long and growing grateful list and it is this that I shall be considering as I pass between this year and the next.
Happy New Year to all my virtual and non virtual friends, may 2012 bring good things to us all.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
So how was your Christmas?
Mine started early with a text from Tall Girl ( she was only in the next room) asking me to remove the cat from her pillow. As I entered the room, there she was, sitting bolt upright in bed eyes, like saucers staring at the cat. He was smiling (I know it was a smile because you could sense it, there was a definite upturn to the corners of his mouth) his little body curled up in a tight ball the middle of her pillow which, as far as he was concerned, was his rightful place. "When I rolled over mummy, I reached out my hand and felt his boney leg, and I thought Santa had left me a roast chicken!"
"Well, that would have been an original gift" I mused "but as it's only 1.30 in the morning do you think we could sleep now?"
I unceremoniously gathered the cat up and plonked him on her feet instead, he was a tad hurmphy but at that time in the morning what did he expect, Christmas cheer?!
Christmas eve with mum and Christmas day at home were full of fun and food and lovely things. then Ex husband turned up at 11am on Boxing Day to take the children home with him for his 'turn'.
Festive Ex was not. Small Sprog was as excited as he had been the previous days and asked dad to play various games but to no avail. Apparently Ex had had a busy morning and did not feel like playing, I was wondering if he was hung over but said nothing. Eventually Small Sprog played without daddy.
I so wanted to keep my children and play for days on end, I didn't want it to end, I wanted to carry on inside the bubble we had built for ourselves since school had finished; it was a happy and carefree bubble full of colour and light, but it wasn't to be.
And as I watched Ex and listened to him talking to Tall Girl, I remembered how everything was always about him, always.
We had a lucky escape.
Mine started early with a text from Tall Girl ( she was only in the next room) asking me to remove the cat from her pillow. As I entered the room, there she was, sitting bolt upright in bed eyes, like saucers staring at the cat. He was smiling (I know it was a smile because you could sense it, there was a definite upturn to the corners of his mouth) his little body curled up in a tight ball the middle of her pillow which, as far as he was concerned, was his rightful place. "When I rolled over mummy, I reached out my hand and felt his boney leg, and I thought Santa had left me a roast chicken!"
"Well, that would have been an original gift" I mused "but as it's only 1.30 in the morning do you think we could sleep now?"
I unceremoniously gathered the cat up and plonked him on her feet instead, he was a tad hurmphy but at that time in the morning what did he expect, Christmas cheer?!
Christmas eve with mum and Christmas day at home were full of fun and food and lovely things. then Ex husband turned up at 11am on Boxing Day to take the children home with him for his 'turn'.
Festive Ex was not. Small Sprog was as excited as he had been the previous days and asked dad to play various games but to no avail. Apparently Ex had had a busy morning and did not feel like playing, I was wondering if he was hung over but said nothing. Eventually Small Sprog played without daddy.
I so wanted to keep my children and play for days on end, I didn't want it to end, I wanted to carry on inside the bubble we had built for ourselves since school had finished; it was a happy and carefree bubble full of colour and light, but it wasn't to be.
And as I watched Ex and listened to him talking to Tall Girl, I remembered how everything was always about him, always.
We had a lucky escape.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
It's nearly here!
Well, it must be nearly time for the Big Day because Small Sprog is going off every few seconds! He is full of excitement and Christmas cheer, finding it hard to sleep, up at the crack of dawn, all the signs are there; it's nearly Christmas!
His sister has not really done her shopping yet! How can they be so different?
I, as is usual at this time of year, can't fit anything else in the fridge; the tree is looking a little dessicated (I have had a word with it and told it that it only has to hang on for another couple of days if possible please?) poised at a an angle not perpendicular to the floor and things keep falling off it; the cat keeps leaving little (very un-festive) parcels all about the house and between us we have probably eaten our body weight in 'Celebrations' (except the cat of course, as he can't manage the lid of the box, however if he could perhaps his 'parcels' would come out ready wrapped!). Yes, it really, nearly is Christmas!
Today the house has been full of visitors, at least that has helped with the fridge overload, who have come and gone bearing gifts and cards. So as I sit here on the verge of bedtime, I just wanted to record here for posterity and whoever is nuts enough to come here and read my ramblings, that I am grateful for it all and feel lucky and blessed to be in the here and now, with all that we have and all that we need. Christmas is a great time to take stock and be glad.
So, as I may not get here again before Christmas, I hope you all have the Christmas that you wish for and I hope it is a peaceful one too.
Merry Christmas
His sister has not really done her shopping yet! How can they be so different?
I, as is usual at this time of year, can't fit anything else in the fridge; the tree is looking a little dessicated (I have had a word with it and told it that it only has to hang on for another couple of days if possible please?) poised at a an angle not perpendicular to the floor and things keep falling off it; the cat keeps leaving little (very un-festive) parcels all about the house and between us we have probably eaten our body weight in 'Celebrations' (except the cat of course, as he can't manage the lid of the box, however if he could perhaps his 'parcels' would come out ready wrapped!). Yes, it really, nearly is Christmas!
Today the house has been full of visitors, at least that has helped with the fridge overload, who have come and gone bearing gifts and cards. So as I sit here on the verge of bedtime, I just wanted to record here for posterity and whoever is nuts enough to come here and read my ramblings, that I am grateful for it all and feel lucky and blessed to be in the here and now, with all that we have and all that we need. Christmas is a great time to take stock and be glad.
So, as I may not get here again before Christmas, I hope you all have the Christmas that you wish for and I hope it is a peaceful one too.
Merry Christmas
from
Wednesday, December 07, 2011
600
"Yes" I reply, only half concentrating.
"May be we should call the radiator Archie?"
(Now how did he make the leap from animal to inanimate object?)
"The radiator?" I say in a rather condescending way "No one gives their radiators names"
"Well you named your radio Nigel"
Ah, now he's got me on that one!
What names do you use for your household objects? (or am I alone on this one?!)
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Sticky Position
Last week someone backed into my car when it was parked outside work. I walked back to my car at lunchtime and there was a big dent in the bumper. My heart sank but then I noticed a note stuck to the window, the driver had left their contact details.
Everyone, including the insurance company, have told me how lucky I was that details were left. I already knew that, in fact I almost thanked the person for backing into my car because I was so grateful that they didn't just drive off! How sad it is though that leaving your details is now thought of as unusual and no longer just what anyone would do automatically?
Anyway, the insurance sorted it and I kept my no claims, for what its worth. The garage came to pick the car up and dropped it back yesterday. Just before they took it I had to empty it of all personal effects. Wow, what a whole load of cr*p there was to clear and mostly throw away. I left a stick in the back, or maybe it was under a seat and when they returned the car the man showed me around the car and there was the stick. He looked at me in a strange way, I could tell he was wondering why I carried a stick around with me. "Oh" I said, by way of explanation "It's my sons stick, he thinks he's a dog, though now we've got a cat he seems to just miaow a lot". The man looked at me; I could tell he was slightly unnerved "Just sign here madam" he said and made a hasty exit. Hey ho...
Everyone, including the insurance company, have told me how lucky I was that details were left. I already knew that, in fact I almost thanked the person for backing into my car because I was so grateful that they didn't just drive off! How sad it is though that leaving your details is now thought of as unusual and no longer just what anyone would do automatically?
Anyway, the insurance sorted it and I kept my no claims, for what its worth. The garage came to pick the car up and dropped it back yesterday. Just before they took it I had to empty it of all personal effects. Wow, what a whole load of cr*p there was to clear and mostly throw away. I left a stick in the back, or maybe it was under a seat and when they returned the car the man showed me around the car and there was the stick. He looked at me in a strange way, I could tell he was wondering why I carried a stick around with me. "Oh" I said, by way of explanation "It's my sons stick, he thinks he's a dog, though now we've got a cat he seems to just miaow a lot". The man looked at me; I could tell he was slightly unnerved "Just sign here madam" he said and made a hasty exit. Hey ho...
Friday, December 02, 2011
Out with the girls
I am excited, I don't see them so much now our children are all at senior school. I light candles the night before and set about writing Christmas cards for them all. I 'Facebook' Ruth and she apparently already has her Christmas tree up, so I tell her I am taking cards to our meal out and that if she does too it might discourage the others from groaning when I produce them with a flourish!
We sit in the restaurant. They groan as predicted. I watch them all and feel slightly removed. They are bogged down with domesticity, they moan about their husbands. They have become 'middle aged'.
This is the first year that we have not all come together and thrown a Christmas party for all our children. I feel sad at the loss but they seem to be pleased not to have to spend the afternoon with their own offspring. At least we have got ourselves together I think.
We chat for hours, and perhaps predictably, I am the one who is most likely to tell a 'rude' joke or a risky story and then think perhaps I should 'modify' my behaviour. I am beginning to feel that I have moved on, I am enjoying my life, my children, my own world.
As we leave I wonder finally if this is the last time we will all get together in the last few days of November. We have thrown a children's party for 14 years and now this. Good things come to an end, perhaps I shouldn't hold on to them for so long. The page has turned, so much more to look forward to.
We sit in the restaurant. They groan as predicted. I watch them all and feel slightly removed. They are bogged down with domesticity, they moan about their husbands. They have become 'middle aged'.
This is the first year that we have not all come together and thrown a Christmas party for all our children. I feel sad at the loss but they seem to be pleased not to have to spend the afternoon with their own offspring. At least we have got ourselves together I think.
We chat for hours, and perhaps predictably, I am the one who is most likely to tell a 'rude' joke or a risky story and then think perhaps I should 'modify' my behaviour. I am beginning to feel that I have moved on, I am enjoying my life, my children, my own world.
As we leave I wonder finally if this is the last time we will all get together in the last few days of November. We have thrown a children's party for 14 years and now this. Good things come to an end, perhaps I shouldn't hold on to them for so long. The page has turned, so much more to look forward to.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Window lickers
We are driving along the road, nothing much is really going on, we are on the way home from school. Small Sprog has a noisy friend in the back of the car and I have more or less switched off to their chat until I hear him say "Don't lick the windows of the car though, they taste awful" and then, just as I am about to ask how he could possible know that, his 15 year old sister agrees with him "Yes" She says "They taste disgusting"
"There's only one way you'd know that!" I shout "Only very strange people lick the inside of car windows!"
"I didn't mean to lick them" He says "I just did it accidentally while I was asleep"
Do I look that stupid?!
Meanwhile, as I write, Small Sprogs girlfriends mother is texting me about her distraught daughter who is in tears because she thinks my son has 'dumped' her.( Do I need to remind you that they are only 11 years old?) I text back, trying to reassure her that although he is a bloke (sorry male readers), which means he has no idea about what is going on, he really has a kind heart and wouldn't upset her intentionally. I press 'send' with my fingers crossed, mostly I think I know him but sometimes I reckon there's a whole 'other side'! Her mother texts back: I did tell her that boys take about 3 months longer than girls to notice that anything's wrong!
3 months, I muse, as quick as that?...
"There's only one way you'd know that!" I shout "Only very strange people lick the inside of car windows!"
"I didn't mean to lick them" He says "I just did it accidentally while I was asleep"
Do I look that stupid?!
Meanwhile, as I write, Small Sprogs girlfriends mother is texting me about her distraught daughter who is in tears because she thinks my son has 'dumped' her.( Do I need to remind you that they are only 11 years old?) I text back, trying to reassure her that although he is a bloke (sorry male readers), which means he has no idea about what is going on, he really has a kind heart and wouldn't upset her intentionally. I press 'send' with my fingers crossed, mostly I think I know him but sometimes I reckon there's a whole 'other side'! Her mother texts back: I did tell her that boys take about 3 months longer than girls to notice that anything's wrong!
3 months, I muse, as quick as that?...
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Mr A (for Archibald) Cat
Tall Girl wants to call him 'Jam' but as we've adopted him, he already has a name; Archie, a perfectly lovely name for an ageing cat. I proposed Mr. A Cat but that is not what she wants. She is excited and sends a text: I'm calling him Mr Jammy Dodger Kitty Catty...Dodger for short or for longer shortness 'Jammy Dodger'!
Longer shortness? Well that's really going to confuse him!
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Nearly 3 years on; normal but different
Late Friday afternoon and I pull onto the familiar drive, the gravel crunching under the tyres. The place looks much the same as it always was, if not just a little more jaded. As the front door opened a wonderful smell of garlic wafted out.
"Daddy says would you like a cup of tea mummy" Small sprog shouts from the kitchen.
How did we get to this point? I walk in.
Ex Husband is cooking risotto, juggling ingredients, smiling, enjoying the task. We talk, the children join in, he makes me a cup of tea, well mostly makes it; I reach into the fridge for the milk. The handle feels looser, more fragile and the inside is full of things that I have not bought and stored away, things have changed.
"Would you like to eat with us?" He says after a while
"I'm out with my girl friends at 8pm" I say "but it smells delicious, I'd love just a little"
He sets me a place at the table. Not 'my' place, he sits there now; no it is his old place, the one furthest from the kitchen that I sit at. The seat which, at the time, was his because he had very little to do with preparing meals and fetching things from the kitchen back then.
We sit down to eat. I worry momentarily that the children will find it unsettling but that didn't seem to be the case. It was a wonderful moment. Strange, very strange, like moving into an alternative universe, one that could have been, had things been different. It was happy and easy and unbelievably good. We had made it, to this place that I had hoped for. Normal but different.
After eating he clears the dishes while I chat to our children about their day at school. I found myself thinking how the tables have turned; things have changed and I quietly muse on the massive cost of getting here.
As I leave I offer to help him clear up, old habits die hard. He waves his hand dismissively saying "It really doesn't matter"
And as I go I know how important it was to say those words, for me to hear them too. All that time, all those days; it really never did matter...
"Daddy says would you like a cup of tea mummy" Small sprog shouts from the kitchen.
How did we get to this point? I walk in.
Ex Husband is cooking risotto, juggling ingredients, smiling, enjoying the task. We talk, the children join in, he makes me a cup of tea, well mostly makes it; I reach into the fridge for the milk. The handle feels looser, more fragile and the inside is full of things that I have not bought and stored away, things have changed.
"Would you like to eat with us?" He says after a while
"I'm out with my girl friends at 8pm" I say "but it smells delicious, I'd love just a little"
He sets me a place at the table. Not 'my' place, he sits there now; no it is his old place, the one furthest from the kitchen that I sit at. The seat which, at the time, was his because he had very little to do with preparing meals and fetching things from the kitchen back then.
We sit down to eat. I worry momentarily that the children will find it unsettling but that didn't seem to be the case. It was a wonderful moment. Strange, very strange, like moving into an alternative universe, one that could have been, had things been different. It was happy and easy and unbelievably good. We had made it, to this place that I had hoped for. Normal but different.
After eating he clears the dishes while I chat to our children about their day at school. I found myself thinking how the tables have turned; things have changed and I quietly muse on the massive cost of getting here.
As I leave I offer to help him clear up, old habits die hard. He waves his hand dismissively saying "It really doesn't matter"
And as I go I know how important it was to say those words, for me to hear them too. All that time, all those days; it really never did matter...
Monday, November 14, 2011
The Floozy!
Small Sprog brings his Girl Friend home. She is sweet and pretty and well mannered but goodness me is she full on?! By the time I had fed them dinner I was ready for a break; Tall Girl was at the kitchen table trying to complete homework and I just wanted some peace while I cleared up the dishes.
"Why don't you go and watch TV and I'll bring your pudding in a minute?" I asked. They agreed to go, phew!
However, 10 minutes later, when I appear at the sitting room door with 2 banana splits (and that is a fitting desert now I come to think of it) there she is, sitting as close to him as she can get with her arms all around him. Yes, can you believe it? He is sitting on the sofa wedged against the arm of the chair and she is cuddled up as close as she can get without actually sitting on him, the floozy. Good Catholic Girl indeed! They shuffle apart as I walk in to distribute pud.
Back in the kitchen I shut the door behind me giggling and explode "She's snogging him!" to Tall Girl. She looks at me disapprovingly "You'll have to go in there in a minute" I say pleadingly "And play Gooseberry for a while, I'm not having them doing that in there, he's not even 12 yet!"
And indeed he's not. He seems very nonchalant about the whole girl friend thing, it seems to have just 'happened' to him without any effort on his part. However she seems more than intense. I am slightly worried. I have a little talk to him about being careful, in more ways than one. He is now the one wearing the look of disapproval.
"Why don't you go and watch TV and I'll bring your pudding in a minute?" I asked. They agreed to go, phew!
However, 10 minutes later, when I appear at the sitting room door with 2 banana splits (and that is a fitting desert now I come to think of it) there she is, sitting as close to him as she can get with her arms all around him. Yes, can you believe it? He is sitting on the sofa wedged against the arm of the chair and she is cuddled up as close as she can get without actually sitting on him, the floozy. Good Catholic Girl indeed! They shuffle apart as I walk in to distribute pud.
Back in the kitchen I shut the door behind me giggling and explode "She's snogging him!" to Tall Girl. She looks at me disapprovingly "You'll have to go in there in a minute" I say pleadingly "And play Gooseberry for a while, I'm not having them doing that in there, he's not even 12 yet!"
And indeed he's not. He seems very nonchalant about the whole girl friend thing, it seems to have just 'happened' to him without any effort on his part. However she seems more than intense. I am slightly worried. I have a little talk to him about being careful, in more ways than one. He is now the one wearing the look of disapproval.
Friday, November 04, 2011
Update
Only 50 days to Christmas (yes really) and Tall Girl is fifteen next week (where did all those years go?) and Small Sprog has a Girl Friend (Big Time). Homework has taken over the house, GCSE's r us. Hours have been spent visiting Ikea recently, which lets face it, is enough to make anyone reach for the gin and I don't even drink gin. And then, suddenly, the other day I had a rare moment of clarity. Yes really, fancy that, I actually felt organised, just for a moment. The feeling didn't last long but the small pleasure of the feeling remains. And no, I haven't already written all my Christmas cards, Tall Girl forbids the early onset of Christmas until after her birthday, but I have sorted out Tall Girls room. A total revamp. She loves it and so do I. Everything now has a place, I wonder how long it will stay that way?
As for Small Sprog, his Girl Friend is in Luurrve with him, I'm not sure if it is mutual, he's not letting on. Apparently she has 'I love Small Sprog' written all up her arm most days on her return form school. Or so her (very young) mum says. Over the half term break we took her out for a day trip (she's a lovely girl), after a conversation with her mother who let me know in no uncertain terms, that she was brought up a 'Good Catholic Girl'. Gosh, I thought, I had never considered Small Sprog as a candidate for corruption.... but then again!
As for Small Sprog, his Girl Friend is in Luurrve with him, I'm not sure if it is mutual, he's not letting on. Apparently she has 'I love Small Sprog' written all up her arm most days on her return form school. Or so her (very young) mum says. Over the half term break we took her out for a day trip (she's a lovely girl), after a conversation with her mother who let me know in no uncertain terms, that she was brought up a 'Good Catholic Girl'. Gosh, I thought, I had never considered Small Sprog as a candidate for corruption.... but then again!
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Friday, October 07, 2011
Friends
In the car Small Sprog taunts his sister "You've got no friends!" He says. She says something suitably scathing to him and he makes a face back at her which she doesn't see.
She has large group of quite close girl friends and she has worked hard to get to where she is. She is shy and knew no one whatsoever when she started her school 3 years ago. Now though, she seems happy with her lot, she has a nice group and they have a place somewhere in the middle of the school pecking order; all is well with the world. However, there are no boys. Her little group have resorted to 'marrying' each other on Facebook just so their status doesn't say 'single'! She may be feeling she is 'on the shelf' but I am more than happy I can tell you. On the other hand though, Small Sprog is keeping his end up (if you will excuse the pun!)
I noticed him carrying around a bit of paper yesterday evening. It was a little tatty, but I noticed he was squirreling it away rather than binning it. I didn't ask him about it, just in case.
At bedtime I went into his room to say goodnight and he was all tucked up. As I pottered around sorting out his man habit of hanging clothes up on the floor, he nipped out of bed saying "I just found this in my drawer"
"What have you got?" I ask as I notice it's the bit of paper he's been carting around all evening.
"This" He says, carefully unfolding the paper.
He is smiling proudly. There, drawn in 'Manga' style, was a brilliant drawing of him in his school uniform, waving. It was the sort of wave he does which is somewhere near his shoulder shrug, the one he does when he's not sure what to do, the one that works really well for him. It was a great likeness. "That's a fab drawing" I say to him "Who drew it for you"
"Shania" He says, all proud and a little shy.
"She's a good artist, it looks just like you" I say. He's holding really tight to it, I can see there's writing on the back but I can tell he's not going to offer up that bit for inspection.
I find him some Blue Tack and he fixes it onto his wall next to the frog photos, as I wonder if it would be really out of order to read the back of it when he's gone to school tomorrow.
He plops back into bed happily. I am glad he wanted to share his picture, he looked so proud, I don't think any one's done anything nice like that for him before. "You ought to make her something" I say, thinking that he'll not like the idea. However he says "Yes, I thought I'd make her a model, but it might get squashed on the way to school"
Gosh, I thought later, Perhaps he's a bit smitten (goodness me I am using words that my mum would use!). Then I spend the rest of the evening hoping his soft little heart doesn't get broken too easily.
She has large group of quite close girl friends and she has worked hard to get to where she is. She is shy and knew no one whatsoever when she started her school 3 years ago. Now though, she seems happy with her lot, she has a nice group and they have a place somewhere in the middle of the school pecking order; all is well with the world. However, there are no boys. Her little group have resorted to 'marrying' each other on Facebook just so their status doesn't say 'single'! She may be feeling she is 'on the shelf' but I am more than happy I can tell you. On the other hand though, Small Sprog is keeping his end up (if you will excuse the pun!)
I noticed him carrying around a bit of paper yesterday evening. It was a little tatty, but I noticed he was squirreling it away rather than binning it. I didn't ask him about it, just in case.
At bedtime I went into his room to say goodnight and he was all tucked up. As I pottered around sorting out his man habit of hanging clothes up on the floor, he nipped out of bed saying "I just found this in my drawer"
"What have you got?" I ask as I notice it's the bit of paper he's been carting around all evening.
"This" He says, carefully unfolding the paper.
He is smiling proudly. There, drawn in 'Manga' style, was a brilliant drawing of him in his school uniform, waving. It was the sort of wave he does which is somewhere near his shoulder shrug, the one he does when he's not sure what to do, the one that works really well for him. It was a great likeness. "That's a fab drawing" I say to him "Who drew it for you"
"Shania" He says, all proud and a little shy.
"She's a good artist, it looks just like you" I say. He's holding really tight to it, I can see there's writing on the back but I can tell he's not going to offer up that bit for inspection.
I find him some Blue Tack and he fixes it onto his wall next to the frog photos, as I wonder if it would be really out of order to read the back of it when he's gone to school tomorrow.
He plops back into bed happily. I am glad he wanted to share his picture, he looked so proud, I don't think any one's done anything nice like that for him before. "You ought to make her something" I say, thinking that he'll not like the idea. However he says "Yes, I thought I'd make her a model, but it might get squashed on the way to school"
Gosh, I thought later, Perhaps he's a bit smitten (goodness me I am using words that my mum would use!). Then I spend the rest of the evening hoping his soft little heart doesn't get broken too easily.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
They know you know...
I am being stalked. Really I am, or so it feels.
I click onto my Gmail and there's a reply from Tall Girl about making Sheep Cupcakes. Then I notice, along the band at the top there is a little advert that says 'Lakeland, the home of creative baking'. And do you know what? I actually click on it, just to see and there it is, all you need to make beautiful cakes, but how does Google know?
Then later, as I'm reading an email from Mum about fitting sensors to my window in the kitchen, I notice Google helpfully asking the question "Need new windows and doors?" No! I think, I do not need new bloody windows and doors, just go away and stop hassling me.
Then I send a terse email to Significant Other, with one eye on the blue advertising bar, which suddenly changes from baking to ask soothingly if I need 'Love Relationship Advise'. Ask him, I hiss to it!
Then I try to catch it out. I flick through some old emails and find one from earlier that has NHS advice on heart palpitations. Have a gander at this, I shout at the screen. And sure enough it hears me 'Business Photocopiers, call us with your requirements'
Gotcha!
Mind you, perhaps I should be doing something a little more constructive with my time?
I click onto my Gmail and there's a reply from Tall Girl about making Sheep Cupcakes. Then I notice, along the band at the top there is a little advert that says 'Lakeland, the home of creative baking'. And do you know what? I actually click on it, just to see and there it is, all you need to make beautiful cakes, but how does Google know?
Then later, as I'm reading an email from Mum about fitting sensors to my window in the kitchen, I notice Google helpfully asking the question "Need new windows and doors?" No! I think, I do not need new bloody windows and doors, just go away and stop hassling me.
Then I send a terse email to Significant Other, with one eye on the blue advertising bar, which suddenly changes from baking to ask soothingly if I need 'Love Relationship Advise'. Ask him, I hiss to it!
Then I try to catch it out. I flick through some old emails and find one from earlier that has NHS advice on heart palpitations. Have a gander at this, I shout at the screen. And sure enough it hears me 'Business Photocopiers, call us with your requirements'
Gotcha!
Mind you, perhaps I should be doing something a little more constructive with my time?
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Tall Girls In Service Day
Tall Girl and I plan a shopping trip. Her school has an In Service Day and Ex Husband has Small Sprog, who hates shopping.
"Where shall we go?" I ask her when we are planning the trip, thinking about which shops she wants to visit. "Cheltenham" is her reply!
"To see Granny?"
"No! To shop"
It is not until I think about it that I realise her thinking. It is an In Service Day; what do Teen Girls do when they're not at school? They shop (well hopefully as that's the most innocuous thing they could do when they're left home alone) All her friends will be shopping, with each other, not their mothers. She has a dilemma, shopping with me means she has access to cash (little does she know) but it also means she cannot relax, she is instead on permanent look out for anyone she knows. See them first and she dives into the nearest shop, or behind the nearest rail, heaven forbid they may see her shopping with her mother, shock horror!
So I agree to take her to Cheltenham, if only for the fact that we can relax and not be peering around shop fittings every few minutes, like something out of an old spy movie.
As we drive there she talks animatedly about her forthcoming birthday. On arrival she directs me through the town the way she likes to go. All of a sudden she starts to wave and flap her arm about. "What are you doing?" I ask her suspiciously
"Oooh, I was so excited at seeing Cult" - one of her favourite shops - "That I waved at it by accident"!
By accident? And she thinks I'm embarrassing.
"Where shall we go?" I ask her when we are planning the trip, thinking about which shops she wants to visit. "Cheltenham" is her reply!
"To see Granny?"
"No! To shop"
It is not until I think about it that I realise her thinking. It is an In Service Day; what do Teen Girls do when they're not at school? They shop (well hopefully as that's the most innocuous thing they could do when they're left home alone) All her friends will be shopping, with each other, not their mothers. She has a dilemma, shopping with me means she has access to cash (little does she know) but it also means she cannot relax, she is instead on permanent look out for anyone she knows. See them first and she dives into the nearest shop, or behind the nearest rail, heaven forbid they may see her shopping with her mother, shock horror!
So I agree to take her to Cheltenham, if only for the fact that we can relax and not be peering around shop fittings every few minutes, like something out of an old spy movie.
As we drive there she talks animatedly about her forthcoming birthday. On arrival she directs me through the town the way she likes to go. All of a sudden she starts to wave and flap her arm about. "What are you doing?" I ask her suspiciously
"Oooh, I was so excited at seeing Cult" - one of her favourite shops - "That I waved at it by accident"!
By accident? And she thinks I'm embarrassing.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Innocence
"And they did something that's not normal"
Tall Girl is telling me the latest gossip to hit Year 10. It is about a boy and a girl, she won't use names.
"I bet it was normal" I say
She looks a little disgusted. "They did it in her sisters bedroom, when her sister was only downstairs" Her voice is quite disapproving.
"Well they must have been quick then" I snigger
She mulls it all over. She is still surprisingly innocent at nearly 15. I am glad of that but also surprised, especially when I read some of the stuff her friends write on Facebook.
"We talked about it all day!" She carries on "It made for an interesting Maths lesson"
I looked at her and the penny dropped, that's what they were doing; the thing she thinks isn't normal. I wait for her to carry on.
"Everyone was shouting out, what do you get if you take 1 away from 70?"
I laugh, she laughs' she knows I've 'got it'.
"It is quite normal you know" I say after we stop laughing. Her brown eyes grow like saucers. "Though you wouldn't want it spread around school like that would you?" I say, thinking I may have come across as too liberal earlier and hoping she will always have the decency to be sensible about what she does with who and who she tells.
Funny isn't it, they have sex education lessons from age 9, Tall Girl still has them at near on 15, but some things they just don't teach you... And I try to remember how old I was when I let a boy put his hand up my skirt behind one of the hedges on the school field one lunchtime. I must have been around her age I guess. Thank goodness she wears trousers to school I muse.
"Seems like you had a much more interesting day than I had then" I giggle
"Yes" She says "Thank goodness Mrs. Clarke" her PHSE teacher (that's sex Ed in school speak) didn't bring in her touchy, feely box"
I look at her and then tell her another meaning for the word 'box'
"Ewwwwww"! she says, and we both burst out laughing again
Tall Girl is telling me the latest gossip to hit Year 10. It is about a boy and a girl, she won't use names.
"I bet it was normal" I say
She looks a little disgusted. "They did it in her sisters bedroom, when her sister was only downstairs" Her voice is quite disapproving.
"Well they must have been quick then" I snigger
She mulls it all over. She is still surprisingly innocent at nearly 15. I am glad of that but also surprised, especially when I read some of the stuff her friends write on Facebook.
"We talked about it all day!" She carries on "It made for an interesting Maths lesson"
I looked at her and the penny dropped, that's what they were doing; the thing she thinks isn't normal. I wait for her to carry on.
"Everyone was shouting out, what do you get if you take 1 away from 70?"
I laugh, she laughs' she knows I've 'got it'.
"It is quite normal you know" I say after we stop laughing. Her brown eyes grow like saucers. "Though you wouldn't want it spread around school like that would you?" I say, thinking I may have come across as too liberal earlier and hoping she will always have the decency to be sensible about what she does with who and who she tells.
Funny isn't it, they have sex education lessons from age 9, Tall Girl still has them at near on 15, but some things they just don't teach you... And I try to remember how old I was when I let a boy put his hand up my skirt behind one of the hedges on the school field one lunchtime. I must have been around her age I guess. Thank goodness she wears trousers to school I muse.
"Seems like you had a much more interesting day than I had then" I giggle
"Yes" She says "Thank goodness Mrs. Clarke" her PHSE teacher (that's sex Ed in school speak) didn't bring in her touchy, feely box"
I look at her and then tell her another meaning for the word 'box'
"Ewwwwww"! she says, and we both burst out laughing again
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Small Sprogs reveals his secret
"He's told me" Says Tall Girl, who is sitting on the kitchen worktop, feet stretched out on the draining board.
"Is he in trouble?" I ask
She shakes her head.
"Well as long as he's not upset or in trouble then that's ok"
I start preparing the tea but she is looking at me, I can feel it. "It's what I guessed yesterday" She carries on.
I'm obviously supposed to prise this one out of her. After checking that he didn't have detention and a teacher was not in any way involved I said..."He has a girl friend?"
"Yes" She says "but she's horrible!"
"What do you mean, horrible?"
"Well, she's not but her cousin is; her family smoke and take drugs and she looks plastic"
I think about this last statement, does it go with 'orange', the ones that wear too much make up?
"You can't judge her like that," I reply " just because she has undesirable relatives. What's her name?"
"Well, he couldn't remember at first, but eventually he said her name was Shania"
"Oh" I say, trying not to pass comment, but wondering which social consumer type list that name would show up on.
So Small Sprog has a girl friend, and apparently I am now allowed to know this fact. However Tall Girl is worried. "She was his new best friend Dans' girl friend last week" She tells me.
"Oh"
"Small Sprog says Dan doesn't mind"
"He probably doesn't" I say to her "boys are different"
I mull this over. Small Sprog seems to have got in with a crowd of OK boys at his new school, as far as I can tell, I start to worry about him making things difficult for himself.
At bedtime I ask Small Sprog if Dan's ok with it all. I tell him that girls will come and go but that he really needs to look after his mates. He nods. "Is she pretty?" I ask.
He nods
"What's her name?"
He remembers this time!
"Is he in trouble?" I ask
She shakes her head.
"Well as long as he's not upset or in trouble then that's ok"
I start preparing the tea but she is looking at me, I can feel it. "It's what I guessed yesterday" She carries on.
I'm obviously supposed to prise this one out of her. After checking that he didn't have detention and a teacher was not in any way involved I said..."He has a girl friend?"
"Yes" She says "but she's horrible!"
"What do you mean, horrible?"
"Well, she's not but her cousin is; her family smoke and take drugs and she looks plastic"
I think about this last statement, does it go with 'orange', the ones that wear too much make up?
"You can't judge her like that," I reply " just because she has undesirable relatives. What's her name?"
"Well, he couldn't remember at first, but eventually he said her name was Shania"
"Oh" I say, trying not to pass comment, but wondering which social consumer type list that name would show up on.
So Small Sprog has a girl friend, and apparently I am now allowed to know this fact. However Tall Girl is worried. "She was his new best friend Dans' girl friend last week" She tells me.
"Oh"
"Small Sprog says Dan doesn't mind"
"He probably doesn't" I say to her "boys are different"
I mull this over. Small Sprog seems to have got in with a crowd of OK boys at his new school, as far as I can tell, I start to worry about him making things difficult for himself.
At bedtime I ask Small Sprog if Dan's ok with it all. I tell him that girls will come and go but that he really needs to look after his mates. He nods. "Is she pretty?" I ask.
He nods
"What's her name?"
He remembers this time!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)