Remember Physical Education class at school?

When I was at school, PE/Physical Education was a subject you got given, whether you liked it or not.

The part that always used to amaze me was that the PE Teacher, was always the largest (weight) person on the staff body.  She always used to wear that stupid matching tracksuit which made you think that she might have once coached or done hockey.

Her hair style was usually something that you would get done at the barber.

Personally I had no qualms about PE – I did not love it, but I sort of got by.

You always had to wear the most ridiculous clothes loosely terms as your PE uniform.  It even made skinny pretty girls look like they had a camel toe and a hunchback.  It was all in all just not attractive.

But this was the same era that gave you Dynasty and Sue Ellen on Dallas, so abysmal fashion decisions were pretty much the norm.

The thing I hated about PE, and I think has mentally scarred me for life was when Ms PE Teacher wanted the class to play a team game.

Everyone would mill around, then she would call out two random girl’s names “Sharon” (I was of the generation where there would be between 1 – 3 Sharons per grade) and “Leeanne” – then Sharon and Leeanne would each pick a girl for their teams.

You know all the girls they liked, who were popular with them.

As each name got called out, there would be some squealing and maybe hugging as the girls would go and huddle behind either Sharon and Leeanne, and stand and smirk at the group of girls who had not been picked i.e. me.

There I would stand “quietly begging” that I got chosen – please choose me, please choose me, I promise to catch/hit the ball.  Promise!!!  See I can jump.  See I can run.  Look Janet Look!!

I hated the fact that I might be the last one left, and not really chosen as much as being a team member by default.    But if I was chosen by Sharon or Leeanne then I would also go and stand in that rather selfish little group behind and smirk and the group of “unpopular” girls who had not been selected.

There are few things worse than being the kid who stands there last and has to be in either of the team, because they are the last person and was not chosen.

The fear of that is enough to sympathise with the girl who always said she was having her period or had a note saying she did not have to do PE.  There were usually 3 – 4 of them.

My friend Claudine Steyn and Joanne Mustoe did not EVER do PE.  I have no idea how one has a period that long.

I realise I am trying to link two rather vague points to each other here so bear with m – but for the love of gd, please go and nominate me - the 2nd Annual Mommy Blogger Competition 2012 is on.

Mommy bloggers have had a bit of a bad rap at the last Blogger Awards, so we are all a bit desperate for anything that makes us say “winner, winner, chicken dinner” right now.

I am having flash backs of PE selection and it is not my happy place.

I have no illusions about winning.  There are far better mommy bloggers out there with moms who really “sweat” and work their blogs.

I am a fair weather blogger.

I have no real drive to run around and pimp my “please vote for me” all over Facebook and every other place you can beg for a vote, but I just don’t want to be the fat pimply kid who does not get picked for PE teams by Sharon and Leeanne.

Cheese and Rice, it is like primary school again!

<link for voting – http://www.kidzworld.co.za/mommy-blogger-competition.htm>

You chew that apple and I am going to stab you. In the eye.

I have been sensitive to sound for almost forever.  But in the last 10 years it has got remarkably worse.

These are a couple, in no real order, that drive me to anger and rage almost instantaneously:-

1.  Kids chewing cereal …. even Pro-nutro … but you can only imagine what the sound of crunchy cereal does to me head/mind/sanity.

2.  Slurping tea or coffee – and my best is slurping soup.

3.  Repeatedly tapping of feet onto a surface (my kids kick the centre pole in our kitchen whilst eating) or Isabelle picks up her spoon and drops it on the counter, picks it up, and drops it — repeat until mother bursts a blood vessel.

4.  The sound of normal chewing …. I always sit next to Kennith at the dining room table, and I have been wondering whether it would be rude for me to move to the other end of the table.  We have an 8 seater, me on one end, him on the other at dinner time … strange much?

5. Sucking of marrow bones, or chicken bones or anything that makes your lips smack …without a doubt this is when I excuse myself from the table to go and attend to a child … even when I am out without my children.

6.  Sniffing…. I keep tissues in my bag for the sole purpose of handing to my children and strangers.  I make it look like an act of guidance or caring.  Meanwhile.  Not so much.

7.  A door that isn’t closed properly that knocks every time a breeze blows down the passage.

8.  Someone flicking through television channels, and the variance in sound that occurs as they move from one channel to another.

9.  Reality shows – especially American Idols or X-Factor – there is a severe pitch variance, and a lot of screaming and loud voices and then the low sound as someone says something deep and meaningful and then the screaming again.  Does my head in.

10.  Wind that whistles through window joints, and the bang-bang-bang that usually occurs on windows.

11.  The squeezing and sucking sounds caused when someone drinks from one of those water bottle numbers.  I can’t.  I really cannot bear it.

12.  Teeth sucking …. like after dinner and then there is this teeth sucking.

Okay let me stop.

Now that I make a list, I realise that the list is rather long and I have not touched the ice berg of the things that make me lose my shit completely.

I think there are lots of noises/sounds that we do not like.  But with me it does more than just annoy me.  It makes me angry, and irritated, and well just fkn angry.

My heart starts to pound.  I can feel my eyes narrowing.  I focus on the sound at the exclusion of everything else and then I can feel I get angrier and angrier as the sound gets louder and more acute in my ear.

Kennith always says that if we go to the movies, I will attract the guy with the slush puppy who sucks, and does that shoesh-shoesh-shoesh sound as he pushes his straw through the slush to loosen up the liquid, for another suck.

Kennith is probably right – I attract these people like nobodies business.  But the reality is that no matter where the slush puppy person sits, I will be able to hear them.  And the added problem is that I can’t hear the movie, as the sound gets louder and louder and louder for me.

This issue alone is probably the main reason I no longer go to movies.

Of course I just put it down to the fact that I was a miserable cow with too many issues to number – seems fair enough, so let’s not totally discount that as a good reason for my being irritable.

Then I saw this word on Friday “Misophonia” and suddenly so much makes sense, or at least I do not feel so guilty for always feeling so damn angry when there is a sound that sets my teeth on edge.

I thought this definition was bang on the money:

The response has been described as a reflexive emotional flood of rage and panic with a storm of fight-or-flight reactions becoming paramount. Adrenaline flooding, face flushing, heart-pounding and/or shaking and the need to physically flee or attack are often experienced. The mindful thoughts that the emotional reflex/response is unreasonable given the facts of the stimulus is often actually harmless come only after the fight-or-flight response is in full force and the affected person may find themselves in a constant mode of “talking themselves down” into a normal state of calm.

The hypocrisy of it all, is that I make a noise when I eat, and I often flick my nail when I am alone – I also love chewing raw pasta — all of these sounds would drive me to commit manslaughter if someone else did it.

According to my research there is no cure – one either must avoid the sound, do extensive CBT or take enough medication to not hear anything.

One bloke suggested moving to a quiet town, and never being in public places so the sounds of the masses do not drive him to insanity. He also has opted to work from home as “office” sounds also set him off.

Sadly I think it is too late for me.  What is sadder is that I understand his point of view, and his plan does not seem that unreasonable to me.

Georgia and Chocolate …. racial slur or just child speak?

Georgia has a doll daughter named Chocolate.

When Georgia was two or three we went along to the toy shop and she could choose any doll she wanted.

She chose Chocolate, and then called her Chocolate.  Georgia took all of Chocolate’s clothing off as Chocolate had a t-shirt on – so Chocolate gets taken nearly everywhere with Georgia, in exactly the manner as she is pictured above.  <The plaster on Chocolate’s leg is due to a recent inury….>

Chocolate goes EVERYWHERE.  When Georgia was at pre-primary the rule was “no toys or dolls can come to school … with the exception of Chocolate…”

Georgia would take Chocolate, and when I arrived to collect Georgia most of the teachers and staff would say goodbye to Chocolate, and mention they would see her tomorrow.

I have recently put in a system where Chocolate can only go to school with Georgia on a Monday and  Friday, the remainder of the week Chocolate needs to stay home.

I spent a fair amount of time having the discussion that “Chocolate” is not a politically correct term to call anyone who has a skin colour the colour of chocolate.  But after about a year I gave up, and decided that I don’t actually find it offensive, and I find it “endearing…”

I have no idea how Georgia came up with the term, but as a child she did, and there was nothing about the term that indicated a sense of smugness or disdain or that it was discriminatory.

Chocolate is Chocolate, and Georgia says that Priveledge (our nanny) is a chocolate colour.   She also says her bestie at school is a chocolate colour – but her bestie has a name and is clearly not called Chocolate.

I remember the first time Georgia said “chocolate” and I cringed.  I felt it was so awfully politically incorrect – I recall the rucus about calling “peach coloured” crayons “skinny colour” and I recall that the term upset many people.

At the time I was all nodding agreement, but since then I think I have mellowed to the concept.

Would I have felt better if Georgia referred to her skin colour as black or coloured?

I know I should have a deep meaningful heart to heart with my child about how derogative the term “skinny colour” and “chocolate colour” is but I actually don’t think it is.  I am not going to convince her not to see colour, because that would be a bit stupid.

She can see that we are all different colours – and she expresses this, but she does not indicate that a “skinny” colour is better or more anything that a “chocolate” colour.  The colour is just a fact – the equivalent of her having hazel eyes and me having blue eyes.  It just is.

She does not mean it in a horrible way, and it is not offensive to me, but is it offensive?

Possibly I am in the minority.  Possibly this is one of the things that people have just blown out of proportion in the quest to be politically correct about everything, and maybe I need to see it in a more “factual” light.

Would it be better to refer to people by their pantone reference number?  I am around a Pantone 7401 matte not coated.

Where do babies come from #6

And sometimes it is the simple answers to a complex question …

Parenting … not for everyone ….

Parenting – not for everyone …

How the hell does Kate do 8?

I am not a big television fan.

I get home, I tend to do what I need in terms of dinner/bath/bed for kids, and then attend to myself in roughly the same order.  Out of choice I would rather read a book, but Kennith has other plans, and Kennith is the one who holds the remote.

Any the way, I don’t DSTV channel surf much, as I am seldom allowed to hold the remote.  But now that I am at home and I sit in my little pseudo office, I turn the television on and switch to a documentary and leave it in the background.

That being said I have managed to catch several inserts of Kate Plus 8 or Kate Makes 8 – or what ever it is called.  Key point woman who is divorced, has a set of twins and then a set of sextuplets (is that the correct word?) and all these kids are under 10 years old.

Any the who, most of the shows I have caught are her on outings with her 8 / EIGHT kids – I seriously have no idea how she does it.

Today I fetch the kids from school.  I stop at Woolworths, and I want to run in – I want to leave all three of them in the car and pop in.

Isabelle starts screaming her head off as she wants to come with me.  Georgia and Connor start screaming – not raising their voices – but screaming “I’M THE BOSS, I’M THE BOSS, I’M THE BOSS…” and then arguing vehemently about who will be the boss whilst I am away.

I am sitting in the driver’s seat wondering if I should just gas us all now – but then I think of how dos Kate copes with 8?

She always appears to have good hair, well french manicured nails, no roots showing, and usually is wearing heels with shorts.  She sometimes appears a little ruffled, but I never hear her cursing at her kids or going ape shit – maybe they edit those bits out.

I am just trying to pop in to Woolworths for a Macaroni and Cheese with Bacon (I had a craving) and I can’t even do that without my three going totally bat shit.

I have no idea how Kate Gosselin does it.

To get divorced and not fight for the other parent to take custody - with 8 kids!!!  That is really one of those times when you want your partner to take the kids, and you get visitation every second Wednesday night for three hours, up until they are about 12.

Anyway, I am going to google Kate (with 8) and figure out if she is on medication, because god’s truth there is no way any earthly person could look that good, have eight children and not be drinking by 10am!!

Leaky fish tank and other emergencies ….

Me sitting re-editing 400 images I already edited, but made a photoshop 101 error on, so I am sitting and redoing the editing, and not exactly loving every moment.  Editing once is fine, editting the same thing again because you are a tosser, really is somewhat unsatisfactory.

Phone rings.

Me: “Hello….”

Little voice: “Hello Mommy…”

Me: “Hi Connor, what’s up my boy…?”

Connor: “Mom, are you busy?”

Me: “Er, a little bit, what’s up Connor?”

Connor: “My fishing tank in my class has a leak, can you go to the pet shop and buy another one, and bring it to school now?”

Me: “errr…..”

Connor: “Please Mommy….. please …….”

Me – wondering how to argue with the fact that he knows I am not working.  He knows I am at home, he has a fish tank leak, which I can offer little in the way of advise for. Can I actually say NO when he is obviously speaking on his teacher’s cell phone with her and all the kids listening?

The short answer is I went to buy a fish tank, a cover and some pebbles and delivered it to Connor’s school within 45 minutes of his call.

So that gets me a Mommy of the Week Award.

The part where I lose it, is that I had his teacher’s name wrong (not slightly, totally wrong).  So could not find her class (as I had never attended a teacher-parent meeting clearly).

Fortunately only managed to find Connor’s class because he was standing at the front of the class and I was looking through the little glass window in the class room door.

Home of Hope ….

I mentioned before that I cleaned out our garage.

“Cleaning out our garage” is not code for anything, it really means I went through a dozen years of stuff that was lying in our garage and packed it up.

Some I took for recycling, but there was a lot that was useful and I did not want to throw away, but I also was not arsed with asking 100 people if they needed two blue bean bags.

I packed up our stuff and I passed it on to people who could use it.

Thinking about cleaning out your cupboards, this is a good place to take your stuff.

Party 911!!

It’s under a month until Isabelle (10 June) and Georgia’s birthday (20 June) and I have done nothing in preparation.

I have drawn up lists and fretted, and phone a few places, but following that, nada.

The result is no birthday party at this stage, or plans or lists I can tick off.

Birthday parties make me all kind of stressed, and the last kid’s one we did was Connor’s.  Kennith agreed to do the organising of the party as I really did not think I could handle another birthday party.

The result was a fishing party that did not occur due to rain and wind, and the final result was 8 boys trapped inside our house.  But Kennith bravely took this lot on and turned it into a Wii competition and various other things, and kept the boys entertained.  At the first glimpse of sun, he had them outside and the boys swam.

Kennith did make a party 101 error and planned the party from about 09h00 through to about 15h00 which is about 5 hours too long for any party, but we survived.  I fled to my room several times as I thought I was going to go a bit off my rocker, but Kennith held the ropes and the party worked.  And I was so thankful he did all the party organising and co-ordination, as it took a huge load off me.

But that was in December.  It is now end of May.

So back to my problem, I have no party, and no plans.  I really need to get my shit together and do something.

Like today, or the girls will not be having a party, and then they will use this a reason to make psychiatrist appointment and moan about their Mommy!!

An additional problem is that June is generally rainy so it has to be inside.  Inside+screaming kids=not a good time.

I was also a bit crushed to find out that Crazy Chameleon no longer operates in Cape Town.  So that got crossed off my list of people to use.  As we speak I am going over Child Magazine, their party edition with a fine tooth combed, and hoping that something jumps out at me!!!  Soon.

Anyone got any party suggestions – that is geared for a 3 year old and a 7 year old and includes Smurfs??

School mornings and misplaced school bags …..

Arrive at school with kids this morning – kids bale out, Connor grabs his school bag and says the usual “love you mommy, bye”

I look at Georgia and she is looking into the car and there is no school bag.

I look at her, I look at the empty car and ask “Georgia, where is your school bag?”

Georgia: “er, I think I left it in the tv room….”

Me = sighs heavily and looks at her with the exasperation I often am confronted with when dealing with Georgia and her inability to “just get with the programme.”

The school bell rings, and the kids go off to class.  Georgia sans bag, and with a total lack of concern that has forgotten her school bag at home.

<bearing in mind she is wearing the wrong school shoes as she forgot her proper school shoes at school yesterday, so the ones she has on are too small ….>

I stand and wonder if I should just leave her bag at home to teach her a valuable lesson about “remembering things” and then I think of the teacher’s face as Georgia tells her she has left her bag at home, and I am shamed in to going back to fetch it and take it back to her.

I go home and there is her bag – standing in the middle of the kitchen.  Just to further set the scene, I have had Isabelle going bezerk in the backseat as I did not take the turn to her school when I usually do, so she has been screaming in the back seat as she thought she was not going to be going to school.  And because she was screaming so much she could not hear me trying to explain to her that I am just going via home and then will take her to school.

I am quite looking forward to my kids going to boarding school so these problems are no longer my problem.  {sigh}

Where do babies come from #5

I thought this was really funny and probably is a great example of the answers Siri gives me ….

Few really know who you are …..

 

I could write a thousand words to explain this … but this image is brilliant … how many people do you encoutner who appear as pure as the driven snow …. but meanwhile ……

Post It Notes from the edge of reason #1

I really do not understand this concept.

The bulk of the kids I see at my kids’ schools are dropped off without wearing seat belt, lets not even comment on the lack of safety/booster seats – just seat belts would be a luxury at this stage.

Standing between the front seats is as common as candy floss for kids.  Small babies/toddlers/children being held by moms sitting in the back seat appears to be standard practice.

I am not maths higher grade, but I can work out that even if you are buckled in and you are holding an object that is not, your car come to an unexpected stop, your body will fly forward at 60/80/120km an hour until something stops its forward motion…. but what ever is in your arms will continue travelling 60/80/120 kilometers until it meets a stationary object that stops it.

Stationary object being the windscreen, a wall, the road you are travelling on and so on.

It is impossible (virtually impossible) to hold on to any object with that sort of force/speed ….. but why do moms (and dads) persist in not buckling their kids up and either let them stand free or allow them to sit on their laps?

What is it that I am missing?  What is there to gain by not buckling a child up?

I feel people should be fined who are caught with kids unbuckled in a car.  The parents should be subjected to 5 days of community service, served in emergency rooms like Red Cross Hospital and the morgue who regularly receive children who were not buckled up and have died or been injured due to not being strapped in. 

Alternatively the parents should be smacked in the head.  With a chair.  Repeatedly.

side bar >>  Some one suggested that I should not get upset by this behaviour.  I should view it as evolution’s way of culling the simple minded.  Stupid people do not buckle up, stupid people die in car accidents and so do thier children, so this is nature’s way of skimming off the stupid.