Parenting in 3 words.

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My missing diary …. and the bottle of wine ….

 

I keep a pen and ink diary.  I abhor digital diaries.

The problem with pen and ink diaries is that if I misplace mine the entire facade that is my life comes crumbling down.

I have no recall of what my appointments are and basically it is all just freaking a panic.

Today I had a parent and teacher meeting and took my trusty diary along.  In the excitement of the meeting, I put my diary down so that I could make the necessary hand movements one needs to make in these sort of meetings.  You know how these things go.

Honestly it was one of the most “real” meetings I have ever been to.

I was the last parent of the day so already there is a level of relaxation for the teacher that this schpeel.

It really was an honest chat, not just about my child, but also about how “being a parent” it seems is as difficult for a teacher as it is for the normal riff-raff.  She shared all sorts of home truths with me, and I could have hugged her in appreciation.

All three of my children have been in her class, so we have a bit of a history, and it is sort of cool that she knows my kids.  I don’t have to blow smoke up her arse.  She knows my children and me and we have clocked up a few hours in talks over the last few years.

I really had a laugh and it was all good.

I left the meeting and I was mentally already somewhere else.  The result is that I did not check and I left my diary behind.

I only realised my error at about 17h45 and then frantically I was trying to go down the path and see where it might be.  I sent a message to the class teacher and she said she had found it and left it at reception so I could collect it tomorrow.

Good plan in theory — however I had no idea what my calendar looked like tomorrow and knew I had something on quite early, but no recall who it was with.

Here is the part that was really cool.

She offered to meet me at the school and give me my diary – as clearly I had no freaking clue what I had planned for tomorrow and this was filling me with huge amounts of anxiety.

The teacher met me at the school – then realised that she could not get the door open to the side where I was on.

She then walked around until she found a window that could open so she could pass the diary to me.  In turn I passed her a bottle of chilled wine.

I felt it was a good swap.

Yay for cool primary school teachers — who do not get offended when I use the word “fuck” in several of my descriptions and do not seem to mind finger puppets.

When your child goes missing …. or hide and seek level 42

 

I saw a note on Facebook about a mom (Lisa-Marie) who received a call that her daughter was absent, when the mom had dropped the child at school.  Her daughter is in Grade 1 — it’s not like she could have decided to go and hang out at Forever 21 for the day.  She is 6.

Mom has a cardiac arrest and spends the next two hours breathing into an old McDonalds brown bag.

It reminded me of an incident with Connor that happened a few years ago.

I get to after care and I look for Connor, who is no where to be found.  I walk up to to the sign in sheet and notice he hasn’t signed in.

It is just after 17h00 and he would have signed in by 14h20.

I ask the after care teachers where he is — they say, they don’t know.

I can feel a full on “episode” coming on, but I am trying to look calm and control my facial features.  Already I have visualised the call I will make to nearest and dearest about the fact that somehow I managed to lose my oldest child and now he is dead.

I sort of started speaking in that slightly hysterical voice and saying “well where is he — he is meant to be at aftercare?”

I think the teachers could smell the impending poes collapse, they also came to look at the sign in sheet and agreed he hadn’t signed in.

Thanks, I am missing a child, not fucking suffering from retinal fucking detachment.

I start to go outside and call for him — which is one step further up the ladder of insanity as after 17h00 all the kids are inside.  So if he was outside I would not actually need to call for him — because he would be alone on the playground.  Unless he was Casper.  Then he would be on the playground and I would need to call him.

I started phoning a few of the usual suspects — again keeping it light and fucking breezy, when I was freaking the fuck out — “so, is there any chance you fetched Connor from school today….?” “no…” “okay…” “no, no problem — just a matter of him not being here and no one knows where he is … but other than that, it’s all thumbs up over here”  “yes, of course we are still on for the braai …. no worries…”

So now I am in full blown panic disorder territory, but I am still trying to look vaguely normal.

After care teachers do not feel comfortable when a mom is going fucking insane in the aftercare when little children are watching.

I swear if one more fucking teacher looked at that sign in sheet I was going to murder her with the clipboard the sign-in sheet was on.  I am not missing a signature — I am missing a child.  Similiar, but one is slightly larger and less likely to fit in a 10cm line space.

At this point I realised I was the only one here who was fully understanding the situation and I started to do that frantic run you do over the school grounds, when you think your child has been snatched.

If you haven’t experienced it yet, then I can highly recommend it.

Not only do you run faster than you ever thought you could, but you manage to learn to pray, string swear words together and start to plead with your imaginary maker —- it is all quite something.  I was having religious epiphanies, planning a funeral, deciding on an epitaph ….. it was all quite exhilarating.   I am not sure if this is that “moment” that runners feel when they are in the zone, it is hard to say.

I eventually found Connor down at the cricket nets —- his friend was not in after care.  Connor and Devin had decided they were going to play cricket till their moms arrived.  Devin’s mom knew where her son was —- my son was not where he was meant to be.

Connor of course forgot the key part of informing his mom or after care.

I can’t explain to you the relief you feel when you find your alive child at the school and not dead or in the back of a black panel van with tinted windows, with four dodgy blokes.

{my imagination and hysteria have very particular details to them}

At the same time that the relief endorphins move through your body, the other “I am fucking going to kill you” hormones make their way to your eye balls, mouth, and hands and you seriously want to fucking kill that child.

Right there.  Right then. Fuck epitaphs.

I screamed at Connor like I have never done before.  I think kids two fucking schools away learnt a valuable lesson that day. “Sign in to fucking aftercare like we fucking agreed ….” My fuck filter was totally off that day.

Connor couldn’t grasp why I was acting like a unhinged person — he had a cricket bat in his hand.  I felt an over riding urge to take the cricket bat and have a go at his knees.

For the next two days I kept looking at him with a sense of relief …. and then an immediate urge to beat the living shit out of him.

Parenting is super fun.  I don’t recommend it.  Get a dog — they usually leave you after 14 years and that is about just enough time to get attached to them, like them, and not have to get angry with them because they are going to steal the car and drink all your beer.

#greatparentingmoments

#fuckthisparentingmalarkey

#greatparents

#whymomsdrink

#daydrinking

#hideandseek

#hideandseekloser

Mom Person and Dad Person have a huge fight at the Spur — and forget there are 6 children sitting between them as they start to attempt to throw furniture around.

I saw this video footage yesterday on Facebook.

If you haven’t it will move across your feed on Facebook in the not too distant future.  It’s pretty much all over the show right now.

It has also been published on You Tube and I am supplying the link below so you can go and view the footage if you like.  My issue is that this “situation” has turned into a “Black mom vs White dad in Spur | HUGE FIGHT #HumanRightsDay” –— many of the comments start off sort of okay.

Soon the comment thread turns into a litany of racial slurs and it pretty much goes pear shaped from there on in.

I may be really naive, and I might not understand what is happening in this video, but I am not looking at it and seeing a racial interaction.

I am seeing two adults, who appear to be parents, behaving in the worst possible versions of themselves in front of their children.

I am not 100% sure who belongs to whom – the guy in the blue shirt appears to have a female partner, who is trying to calm him down without wanting to get in his way, and she has a young daughter who is being pulled backwards and forward behind the male person.

This little girl is being taught that when someone hurts her on the playground, then daddy is going to go in without any sense of restraint.

Daddy (I am assuming he is the daddy person) is further teaching her that not only is it acceptable and encouraged, but to scream and swear at someone who has upset you — but if you can show an attempt at wanting to hit that person — and then add a smirk, then that is even better.

Dad guy, what the fuck do you think you are teaching your girl child here??

Double points if you give the impression (again I am not sure of what he is capable of doing, or whether this is done for effect) that you can throw furniture around.

Daddy person is screaming, showing excessive level of violence, no self control, and is teaching his daughter it is quite okay for a grown man to attack another grown person, in this case a woman.  If Dad person can throw in a little smirk to indicate he really gives zero fucks, that is just Benoni enough for everyone.

The Woman/Mother is not innocent in this exchange.

She is sitting at the head of the table, furthest away from the Daddy person.

Seems a safe place to be — Daddy person clearly has been working out on “arm day” and seems to have double upped on what ever medication that makes you really get totally fucked off whilst at a Spur.

Mother person is not going to sit there and take shit from Daddy person.  No, fuck that, she spurs this situation (see what I did there?) on and it escalates.

I wish to remind you if you do not see it, but there are SIX FUCKING CHILDREN BETWEEN HER MOUTH AND THIS GUYS FISTS.

As you watch the video you notice two of the kids dive over the furniture to move to another seat with a bit more space between them and the ranting Father person.  The other four children just sit there in stunned silence.

This is the part where I totally lose my shit.

Daddy person is an arsehole with some impulse control problems.  I have also been at a Spur where some kid was attempting to beat the shit out of my child.

Unfortunately the Spur assistants/helpers cannot lay a hand on any child, because that will set off the Apocalypse.

I have also felt the urge to go over and beat the child and the parent who did not monitor their child senseless.

This is my Spur story —- no violence unfortunately, but an overriding urging to say the F word, but I didn’t — I was in the kids play area and going off my face at a delusional mother seemed the less ideal place and time.

  1. I have often felt the over riding urge to slap parents at the Spur upside the head  — however I have realised that there is no way this situation will end well, and the best thing to do is if you feel you have some restraint is to go over and mention it to the mom/dad calmly  —- but in the three occasions I have done this, I have never had a calm response.
  2. In the one incident this child was climbing on the half wall in the play area, she was a fairly solid 5 year old girl.  The Spur Assistant probably said to her a dozen times “please do not climb on the wall” – but this little girl gave zero fucks and was jumping off the wall only the bouncy castle.  And with her bulk, the bounce would bounce everyone else who did not weight in at 60 kilograms right off the castle.  In my case Georgia who was just over two years old.
  3. I asked the little girl to stop doing in — I swear to you it was in the nicest voice I had.  This little girl ignored me totally and climbed back on the wall, to redo the exercise.  Again this is after me already going to peel Georgia off the glass – which was where she had been bounced to and put her back on the bouncy castle.
  4. So here was little girl again — doing the same thing, that the Spur Play Assistant had repeatedly asked her not to, and I was now into my second or third explanation that she was not allowed to jump from the wall, and explaining to her – again really nicely — that she was going to hurt the other children.
  5. She just got ready to launch herself again.
  6. Her parents are sitting at a table right next to the play area, right next to the glass, so they can see their liebchen launch herself off the wall.
  7. I put my hand on her ankle — I just put my hand on her ankle — I did not squeeze it or hurt her —- though I did feel an overwhelming urge to push her backwards so she would fall on her stupid head off that fucking wall. But I resisted — I looked around like I was looking for her parents, but no one was coming.  I rested my hand on her ankle and said again “please climb off this wall, you are not allowed to jump off this wall.”
  8. She looked at me rather sulkily, climbed off the wall and left the play area.
  9. I thought, great, that was handled quite well. The Spur Assistant smiled a thank you and I continued to watch Georgia not be thrown against the glass.
  10. Then the mom came in with her crying child.  The mom was accusing me of hurting her child and scratching her and causing her an injury.  The mom was going off her face.  The child of course was now crying along, because the more she cried the more upset the mom got at me.
  11. You know when  you think you are being “punked” and you stand there with a bit of a smile, then you realise actually you aren’t.
  12. I tried to explain to this mom who was basically accusing me of child abuse that I did not hurt her daughter, I put my hand on her ankle as SHE WAS TRYING TO JUMP OFF THE FUCKING WALL ONTO THE BOUNCY CASTLE which is where children who did not weight 60kgs were playing.
  13. The mom however did not see this as being a problem.
  14. Somehow my resting my hand on this child’s foot, because her fucking ears weren’t working and I thought if she could just listen to me and stop doing the jumping then we could all be lekker.
  15. She also did not recognise that her daughter had been told more than a dozen times not to jump off the wall.
  16. The mom was not going to calm down — I seriously stood there and tried to calm her down, but she was already into the “I can see no reason here because you abused by child…”
  17. So, the reason you have heard this story, is because I do not touch someone else’s child.
  18. I however do lean in and talk to them in a menacing voice that scares the living shit out of them.  I feel fuck all — if it stops a kid who is repeating a behaviour, that may cause my child harm or another child, and parents who do not manage their children, then I am happy to step up and give them a little whisper.

This video footage is being painted as a racist incident.

This is a bad parenting incident and both parties behaved badly.

The Mommy person for me is actually the biggest problem — she is responsible for 6 children.  I am not sure if they are all hers.  It does not matter, they are with her and she is responsible for them.

She is escalating a situation between herself and a man person, who is clearly strong and angry enough to do some damage.  She continues to escalate the situation and remains on the far end of the table with 6 children between her and the aggressor.

Listen, if you feel you have to get involved in a fight, or want to take on someone at the Spur or where ever you hang out.  Totally up to you.

When you are doing it with six children in the way between you and a clearly escalating situation, then you clearly, clearly have lost the fucking plot, and you have shown yourself to be lacking. In every possible way.

The Man Person is an arsehole.

I appreciate he is unhappy because his daughter has been hit or assaulted in the play area.  If you have been to a Spur Play Area, you will realise this is a common occurrence.  It is not pleasant or right, but it happens.  There are loads of children playing.  There is generally no parent supervision and the Spur Play Assistant has very clear rules that she cannot physically touch a child.

The Man Person should have gone over to the Woman Person and said “May I talk to you for a moment please?” and then pointed out the problem, and a suggestion of how to resolve the situation.

The Woman Person when feeling attacked by the Man Person should not have got her shit on and seen how she can escalate this — she has 6 children in her care.

6 children watching this.

6 children at risk to an injury by  a demented guy who is being pushed and pushed, and looks like he could flip a fucking Spur Table over with just a bit of motivation.

If Woman Person wants to get into a rumble, then she needs to leave the table, and move this situation away from these children.  Stop to get someone to oversee the kids whilst she takes this “rumble in the fucking suburbs” outside.

But no — she remains behind 6 children and continues to turn this from a minor fracas to a total shit storm

Both adults handled this badly.

I  feel both he and she should be banned from Spurs.  I do not think he is more wrong than her, I think they both acted irresponsibility.  And no doubt feel they are both in the right.

I have seen people comment about how it is Spur’s fault and they should have got involved.  Please can we stop doing this – disolving the guilty party of guilt and assigning it to someone else.  Spur is not to blame here — these two people in this video are to blame.

Individually.  And together.

The rest of the cast are guilt free —- let’s keep the blame where it belongs.

Let’s also not turn this into a racist thing — sure there were racist slurs thrown, it can be expected.  But this was not a black/white thing.  

This was bad parenting.  Bad adulting.  And bad conflict resolution.

I really hope that somewhere in this there is a neutral party who can discuss and unpack what there children have witnessed.

I think that is where I am naive, I think these children will just absorb this into their psyche and think it is okay for grown ass adults to physically fight with each other, call each other names and basically behave badly —-

 

My mind is a bit of a mess right now ….

My head is really a mess right now.

Part of it is because I have had a cold for more than three weeks – and it came with the bonus of a sinus infection.

Which meant that not only did I feel like someone had hit me in the head with a baseball bat, but being vertical became challenging.  My ears were constantly under pressure, so no doubt that was doing nothing for my equilibrium and my pole dancing has gone for a ball of shit.

That  rubbed out four to five days of my life right there.

I slept — I love sleep — but I didn’t realise that I could sleep as much as I have.  If it was an Olympic sport, I would have brought home a gold.  I slept for about 10 hours on Friday during the day, I then went to bed at about 20h30 and clocked up another 12 hours— I just could not function.

I lay on the couch listening to the soothing voice of David Attenborough and I slept.  Woke up for a bit, then closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

It was epic.   it was just a tired sleep — I would wake up feeling dizzy and disorientated and need to sleep some more, so I unfortunately was the “less fun one” and my inability to make any decisions was pretty fly.

It’s been tricky managing the kids from a horizontal position — or from a sleeping point of view.

Some things unfortunately did get away from me.

I will confess the kids were very nice and helpful.  Isabelle offered to make school lunches for a mere R5.00 — it seemed like a good idea at the time.  After a few days she confessed to not being “good with the bread” — I have no idea what the kids were getting — so I opted to just make the bread part and then she could pack the lunch boxes.

I have had three encounters in the last month that have “changed” me.

I have felt a shift in my consciousness.

How I observe the world and how I interact with it and how I “see” me has changed or shifted.  Or is shifting — which may explain the motion sickness.

It has been pretty fucking big — I am struggling to convert my thoughts into words, that make any sense.

Granted the sinus infection has probably not helped matters.

I have been reading Brené Brown and seriously that woman has changed something in me.

I am feeling a bit confused actually — like when you get to peep behind the curtain, and you see something and your brain just does not know what the fuck to do with it.

It is a bit like that.

Someone mentioned her name so I went to watch the two TED TALKS with her, and again I had this shift.

The power of vulnerability | Brené Brown

Listening to shame | Brené Brown

I watched it again, searched for a few others and bought her book.

I am not of the “self help” book league, it’s really just not my jam.

But THIS FUCKING book — it’s like reading the 10 Commandments.  Coming down the hill and thinking this is just too “big” to explain to anyone.  Okay, maybe let me throw it on the ground, and then I can have more time to go up the hill to get another set.

That will give me more time to mentally grasp this.

I usually mow through a book in a day or two — this one I have been reading for three weeks — I limit myself to 3 – 4 pages a day.  Then I just sit with the information and see what happens inside my head.

My head is having it’s own freak out on multiple levels — I think there has just too many red pill-blue pill moments for my mind to get it’s shit around.


I was pretty sick on Thursday and Friday last week — especially Friday.

I was trying to read this book between my two to three hours of sleep and I just kept crying.  Like stupid, non-nonsensical crying.  I have no idea what I was crying about.  I think my mind might be fracturing  right now.

Someone asked me last week why I was reading this book and my answer was “because I think Brené Brown has a lesson to teach me…” — which is about the most unlikely thing for me to ever say.  But true as squirrel nuts that is how I feel.  (again we might blame my fever, sinus infection and general disorientation …. or I am joining a cult and I just haven’t realise it)

I had an interaction with an Astrologer and six sets of parents who had been battling infertility.  The key words there are “had been.”

The entire process freaked me out — it was another case of being able to peak behind the curtain.

The problem is I am struggling to convert it into words.  I shifted that day —- I arrived as the non-believing pessimist wanting bacon.  I am not sure I left as the believing optimist (I still wanted bacon).

I did get into my car and go “What the fuck just happened there??”  And then kept asking myself for the entire 30 minute drive home.  I have been reluctant to talk about it — because I feel I won’t do it justice.

I have kept up this internal conversation trying to reason out what I saw and heard

My mind has been racing ever since. It gets overloaded and then I seem to calm down — but then I get a break, and my brain goes back into over drive.

Another thing that happened is that I had a meeting the kind folks at Home of Hope regarding a project I suggested to them — we had a great chat and they were very open with information and how they worked.

I spent some time with their Social Worker, who gave me some frightening statistics and actual real life shit around Fetal Alcohol Syndrome which not only awakened me to reality, but disturbed the fuck out of me.

I am seriously going “what the fuck — no what the fuck!!”

I am 100% getting how Chicken Licken’s life went for a ball of shit as he ran around telling everyone about the sky falling.  He was right, the sky is falling!

 

Source of image:  http://www.charleseubanks.com/illustration/chickenlicken_p01_8x10_sm/

I have something in my personal life that needs attention — and I need to grow a pair, and tackle it —  I am tired of being someone’s bitch in this equation.  The problem is I feel very brave at 2am or 3am — when the morning comes and I have to be vertical, then I am a lot less brave.  About everything.

My brain is a mess right now — but I think it will get itself straightened out and I will start to have clarity —soon.  I might need an antibiotic.

Brené Brown: Why Your Critics Aren’t The Ones Who Count

Astrology and Astrologers — what thinks you?? Freaks or freaking smoking?

170301-astrology

As a blogger I normally ask nothing of you.

I don’t ask you to go and vote for my kids, or “share” some crap about a fucking cactus or go and buy some piece of shit, that I went to buy and now I want you to share the pain and go and make the same mistake.

I am a really non-demanding sort of blogger.

I show up from time to time — take a dump on this page — -you stop by, you make a decision to read it or not —- some of you kindly — SOME OF YOU NOT ALL OF YOU—- leave comments and that is appreciated.

Except Hank, he can keep his fucking comments.

Anyway, I am going to ask you to please comment on the concept of Astrology and Astrologers.

I attended a talk a few weeks ago around fertility/astrology.

I was sent a press invite — I still get astounded when people invite me to things.  I keep wondering, have they met me, do they know how many time I say “fuck” and if there is an open wine bar, I am going to be a total fuck ‘tard.

Anyway, I received this invitation – it was at the Mount Nelson —- I would pretty much go to the Mount Nelson for breakfast/brunch if they were opening an envelope.

It’s the Mount Nelson {swoon} people.

I had a busy week, so had not really spent much time thinking about this talk/presentation I was going to attend.

It was on Friday, 3rd February 2017.  I had not given it a moment’s thought, until I was driving there.

I am not sure if I am the only person who has chats with themselves in the car — but does it out loud.

Usually I have a maximum of two voices, so it is loosely a conversation.   I find it a good way to work through my thoughts but it needs to be done out loud.

“I had the following thoughts running through my head- in no particular order”

“I really hope there is bacon on the buffet”

“I really hope there is bacon left when I get there because clearly I forgot how many cars there are travelling on the N1 at the same time..”

“I really love bacon ……….. mmmmm ……. bacon”

“Why am I going to this shit anyway …. I usually say no to this sort of thing …….. why did I not just say no ….”

“It’s too late now — yeah —- see you were all polite and said ‘count me in’ and now I want a note from my mom to say I don’t have to go”

“There better be fucking bacon there…”

“Cheese and rice astrology — if someone talks about a moon risking in Uranus I am seriously going to snort bubbles…”

“I don’t think I will know anyone there ….. I can already feel my social anxiety climbing ….. fuck why did I say yes to this shit”

“Astrology.  Astrology.  ASTRO-LO-FUCKING-GY,  I cannot even picture how shit this is going to be.”

“Please let there be bacon, not that chicken bacon bull-shit, I am talking kill-a-pig bacon……”

“I do not believe in astrology — if someone asks my star sign I am going to have to think of something clever to say and not just punch them in the vagina… or just roll my eyes in contempt”

“Okay, calm down — take a breath, you are nearly there,  You don’t have to believe this horse-shit, you just have to go along and listen to the presentation ….. and then you can do afternoon drinking ….. ”

So in summary.

I arrived, I knew no one in the room.

You immediately knew there were serious journo’s as they had brought their bus sized laptops and they were typing before the presentation had even started.

It was very organised and I was made to feel very important.  I had a name badge and everything.

I told the very kind person at the table that I have a social phobia and instead of me walking into the room and finding a place, I asked her if she could show me to a chair.

She did it willingly, happily and with grace — and was very attentive. I sat down at a table, everyone said hello, and I immediately forgot everyone’s names — and my eye sight has become that sort where I can no longer see the fine print on name badges.

I find that leaning close to someone’s chest to read their badge sends an entirely wrong message and then you are ostracised and can’t lean in to see other people’s chests at close hand.

There was no fucking bacon.  I know, the disappointment ran deep people, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppp.

I want to write a separate blog about what I experienced, I have been sitting with this for a month now.

People I had a shift of consciousness.  Maybe.

I felt like I had been given the privilege to peak behind the curtain — and it was fucking marvelous.  Maybe.

 

The part where I am asking you to contribute is what is your understanding when you here the words “Astrology” or “Astrologers.”

What happens in that space between your ears?

Do you break out in a light sweat and go “horse shit” or do you swat it away like an annoying fly?  Or does it just not feature in your world?

Do you picture people in lots of scarves living in a caravan at village fairs —– and then you wonder, dude if you could tell the future accurately, why the fuck would you be living in a fucking caravan???

There is the accepted or general description of Astrology on Wikipedia — the question I am asking for feedback on is the following:

  1. Do you believe in astrology?
  2. Do you believe in an astrologists ability to predict something?
  3. Do you think there are good astrologers who are using something they have studied and they understand, to make certain predictions?
  4. Or is the terms “good astrologer” sort of the same as “good second hand car salesman?”
  5. Do you feel that the only good astrologer is an unemployed one without wi-fi access?
  6. Do you think they are good or evil?  Or neither??
  7. Do you think that your feelings around Astrology are connected to your feelings on religion — predicting the future is not really approved of in the bible, so anyone who does it is pretty much up for a bit of hell fire and brimstone?
  8. Or do you have another take on it all together?

I know now I am becoming this demanding blogger and actually asking you to engage with me.

I almost promise, I will never ask you to do anything for me again — I need some idea of what you think about Astrology and Astrologists.

I have a perception of them in my mind.  I have a perception of how you feel about them, and based on that I will write my article.

If I am wrong about your perception, then I want to write it from a different angle.

I seriously will not judge you if you want to beat every astrologer with a stick and tar and feather them.

I won’t judge you for anything you say —

I want to get a sense of how people feel about astrology/using astrology to interpret celestial cycles as signs of divine communication —-

Or do you just read your star signs in which ever magazine for shits and giggles, and believe it is all been put together by monkeys with pencils, and no sense?

I really really want to know what you think or astrology — if it is a non factor, then tell me it is a non-factor, or if you believe it to be true, or you think it is rubbish or charlatan’stuff.

You don’t have to defend your stand point — I  just want to know what your stand point is.  Really, I just want to know.

Please leave a comment — I really want to know what you think.

If you would prefer to leave a comment about bacon, that would be cool too!

How important is this piece of material if it must have it’s own religion?”

Georgia – middle child – is unique.

I know everyone says their child is unique and special. Made up entirely from magic sperm, and a daisy encrusted egg.  They came into the world and ….. well special shit happened and and and …… yes everyone is so fucking special.

Right now “normal and standard” is the new special.  One more special Princess party on Facebook and I am going to lose my grip on reality.

Georgia came into the world in the fairly usual way — there were a few hitches along the way, that made me question the sense in ever being pregnant.  And how I was going to survive this one.   She also came into the world with the name Calum/Caleb —- I was convinced she was a boy, and did not want to hear otherwise. – so no girl’s names had been shortlisted.  It took about an hour or two to come up with a backup girl’s name.

Anyway, we can run over that story another day.

Georgia is a strange kid — some days I look at her and I really think to myself “this child is totally off the charts … like verging on bat shit crazy.”

She sees the world, and the people in  it through a lens that I do not possess.  She lives a great deal in her head — she writes stories and is constantly coming up with characters and making cards for the characters, and very complex sort of mind maps.

Georgia is a child who is happy — she is just happy.  Like every part of her is happy from the tips of her rather large feet to the top of her gorgeous head.

She loves everyone.  She hugs everyone.  Strangers.  She looks at you and you can see she is starting to tense up and she says “I need to give you a hug” and then she hugs you — and I think it is a release for her.

She does not have a mean bone in her body.  She likes everyone and she does not judge anyone in a negative manner.  I recall a time when she was trying to explain that there was a child in her class who was overweight and the weight was an important factor in the story, but she did not want to say he was fat, because she knows this is a mean thing to say … so she sat with it for a few minutes and then took another run at the story and she told me the child was round.  Again, in the kindest, least mean manner she could find.

She is fortunate that she is well liked at school and there are a few “strange” girls in her age group, so they all relish in their shared strangeness, and I hope she keeps it forever.

I do not know where Georgia came from — she is so unusual, I can’t even claim her as 100% mine.

I am a bit strange, but when I use Georgia as the scale, I am normal, like vanilla normal.  I look so main stream in comparison to her that it is embarrassing actually.

Georgia is Georgia, self created, self fulfilled and self made. We are merely facilitators that throw food at her every now and then.

Georgia often is busy with a conversation in her head, and she will blurt something out, that has nothing to do with anything that is going on —- because she does not realise you did not hear her internal thoughts.

Often I tend to disregard something she says, because there is so much strange from this child.  And some days I do actually just want to listen to the end of the song.

She often makes a statement that is so out of context, that it takes you 15 minutes to understand the context, and based on that, you can then listen to the statement or question again and it makes sense.

Or it still doesn’t and you just distract her with a colourful pencil or something.

Which is all good and stuff — but sometimes you are 20 -25 minutes into a story — because you want to be the attentive mother, and then you realise that she is telling you about a television show …..  word for freaking word …..and then you lose your mind and swear you will never listen to another one of these stories again.

I now know to ask — is this what really happened or is this from a movie or television show??  {one learns this sort of thing ….. eventually}

The result is that sometimes Georgia says things and my brain does not always “hear” her.

Yesterday I popped in to Clicks.

We already had a “weird” exchange in Pick ‘n Pay with regards to “frills” and why you can’t eat them.  That took  a lot of energy to understand what the hell she was actually saying.  (It turns out there is a sign and it is one of their new slogans….. a heads up would have been good).

I am standing there at Clicks looking at a shelf for a product, that I can see they do not have in stock.  I keep standing there staring at the shelf.  As if by the pure force of my wanting THIS product it will just appear there.

I am not sure if you ever do this — sometimes I walk away — like 5 steps and then go back to the shelf, as if something regarding their stock would change in the last 12 seconds or so.  {possibly I am not that far removed from Georgia’s strange}

I hear Georgia say something …. it’s strange enough that I go “Sorry, what Georgia?”

Georgia goes: “How important is this piece of material if it must have it’s own religion?”

I look at her — in the way I often do.

Knowing that there is something happening here I do not understand and this is going to take a long sit down and possibly two shots of tequila to get me to the other end.

I ask her to repeat herself, in case I had already had wine, and possibly had forgotten.  You now how it goes with afternoon drinking.

She repeats herself: “How important is this piece of material if it must have it’s own religion?”

I step towards her and look at her quizzically – she points to the product.

 

1703-muslinblanket

 

{In case the joke is lost on you — she was reading Muslim for Muslin}

Like any good parent would do, I snorted, laughed, praised her for being genius and did not correct her.

Let that blanket have it’s own religion.