Monthly Archives: February 2014

Mouchoirs, tissues and misleading packaging

28 Friday Feb 2014

Posted by in humour, Parenting and family

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Bloggy, how the hell are you?

I bet that you are taking my recent silence as a good sign? A sign that all is well with the 5 boys, dog and Le ‘usband?  You’d not be far wrong:

There haven’t been any tricky exchanges with the Prodigal; the Face continues to frustrate me with his refusal to comprehend the difference between homework and revision but this will be a battle for at least another 3 years. I’ll never give in; the Prof continues to be (a) smart(arse) but kind – kind to the point of being a doormat sometimes. In fact, what do you do? Do you try and toughen him up? Or do you leave him the lovely way he is so that some cow of a woman walks all over him later in his life (aren’t I going to be an accomodating mother in law?)?; the Lips continues to score High Points on the Rev-o-meter of Fatty; the Fatty continues to get revvvvvved up by the Face and regularly tells someone (me? no, of course not. He tells me that he is speaking to the spider) to ‘SHUT UP!’

Supermarket packaging

So at the cash desk, unloading (somebody else’s – it’s possible – I did take the three youngest) trolley and I realise that I have forgotten THE most important item on my list – given the amount of snot there is within the family – tissues. 

‘Prof/FAce, go over there and grab me some mouchoirs (I say it in French just to be sure there is no misunderstanding).’

Off they run, full of brotherly love and care…….grabbing, pushing, tripping, scratching, tipping over trolleys, running into old women – in their bid to be the first one to bring back the tissues.

‘Here we go mum. We;ve both got some’

‘ah…..haha…erm (blush)…they’re not mouchoirs. put them back (without being seen) and try again.’

What they’d brought me was 4 packets of sanitary towels. I guess they would be more absorbent for the snot – perhaps we should have stuck with them. I could have attached the wings around the back of their heads, the pads on their noses…….it might just have worked…

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Blog – this was a quick visit. I’m over and outing and off to the (not very) big City to collect the Prodigal. I’m not hopeful about the state he’ll be in as he left the house with 10 euros and works within spitting distance of Aldi  – the retailer of 32 cent beers. Jesus!

Adieu.

A bientôt.

SEE YA.

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‘And what is it that you do?’

18 Tuesday Feb 2014

Posted by in Parenting and family

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Dear Blog,

You know what? When I was asked this question back in December by an up and coming…..in fact, probably already HERE, Artist, my response was:

‘Nothing.’

Her interested gaze flickered and died.

I tried to shrug this off and made a comment along the lines of being a domestic slave but I may as well have just switched the off button on myself.

Although I cannot claim that I am particularly interesting or brilliant, I have never before had to answer that question with that response.

The fact is, in the world that is not motherhood, I don’t do anything. 

Or do I?

This got me thinking:

-is it so bad to just be a mother? Not if that is what you want; if that is something you do well (ahem); if that is something you find totally fulfilling.

-Do I just want to be seen just as a mother? No.

-Why should I care how I am seen? Now, on the whole, I don’t but I also hate to be overlooked (4th child out of 8 – explains that one).

I’ll discuss this again (no doubt, relent-less-ly).

 

A new dawn

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Now, this is what I do, most mornings:

I see the dawn (sometimes).

‘This will be the day that I get fit, become intelligent, learn French, German, Italian, English grammar, good manners, learn to be a fabulous cook (yep, never happen in a day, will it?), will have a spotless and organised house (again, never happen in a day, month, year, decade), will be a faultless parent, charming and supportive friend, will begin (again) my marathon training, will put all of my 7 gazillion photos into photo albums………and so on.

As I look out at the sun setting, I slump down onto the (dirty) kitchen table and am glad that I achieved:

-remembering to pick up the kids, dirty pants, dirty towels, burned the dinner.

“A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.”
― Winston Churchill

Ok – just realised that Thursday is my blogging day. Lucky you, dear Readers, you might get two dollops of ME this week.

 

Liberty, equality, fraternity – anyone?

13 Thursday Feb 2014

Posted by in current affairs, Living in France, Parenting and family, Raising boys, teenagers and alcohol

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Bonjour Blog,

Comment ca va?

Impec-ca-b-le and glad to hear it.

A quick thank you to my new follower, Cristian Mihai and for the L(y)ikes I received from people I don’t even know. I will never cease to be amazed that anyone (who isn’t a friend or family or whom I have no power of blackmailing) will even bother to read the rubbish I publish on this site. I am, however, grateful. Fame at last…..

Ok, so making news in France this week:

-Floods, floods, floods together with aerial footage of the same blardey wave-battered phare (or lighthouse to vous et moi) that the news programmes have been showing for WEEKS (and that’s ALL the news programmes). I guess they have the budget for a collective chopper but not enough euros for one each. They also seem to be scrabbling and scratching around for news stories as they dedicate around 25 mins to weather news.

-the return of Sarkowzy. Now, timing is everything and mon Dieu, would you believe that his return to the  flashbulb focus of the political press just so happened to fall on the same day that Flanby (or President Hollande) arrived in the U. S. of A. ?

-Taxis of France (that’s not their official collective name but it will do) want to have a law passed which means that private taxis or chauffeur taxis as they are known can only collect their Fare (if ordered online or by telephone and Fare representing the actual person or thing being carried) not before 15 minutes after the booking. Yep – because it’s not fare…..I mean, fair to the taxis which are available to be hailed on the street. Very equality. Very liberty. And extremely fraternity.

-oh and finally, I think I heard something about a law being passed which makes it easier for shops to make their staff work on Sundays.  Now, this is progress. Down here in Nowhere, some shops (and not just little ones) still close for 2 hours at lunchtime. So if you are in one of these shops and about to spend 2 gazillion euros on something as the clock strikes 11.59, you will be asked to leave. I kid you not. Welcome to the France of the 17th.. 21st century.

– actually, finally again – neknomiate has yet to reach France. If it does, I can imagine that it won’t take on. I really can’t see any respectable French youth downing a pint or a litre of wine mixed together with some blood of a virgin..oxo cube..raw egg…snot of a toddler (I can help supply this). Unless……unless the wine is say, English or Californian. The blood of a virgin would also have to be non French. From what I hear, there aren’t too many of those who reach their teens…

News from the family

-The Prodigal returned from England with, if not quite his tail between his legs, then definitely trailing on the floor.  I don’t watch Crimewatch UK but if you do…….   We had a good few days since his return – if that can be measured in the empty alcohol containers I have found in his room – only 5. Onwards and upwards.

-The Face – well he is outperforming (a brain dead piece of roadkill) at school. Last week we had marks of 9/20 and 1/10.  This week he has made great effort and scored 1/20 in French:

‘Do you have any HW the Face?’

‘No, remember I have study period for 20 hours today and yesterday and the day before that….. Also, my maths/french/science/English/Geography/history teachers are all sick/’

‘Right but you have been telling me this for the entire term. Do they have a terminal illness…each? Are they also all blind so perhaps unable to see their un-brailled keyboards to put in your 18/20 marks?’

GIT.

Lying GIT.

The Professor – well, this charming 7 year old continues to help me help the Lips to do his homework. Yep. And when I don’t understand something, he takes over. I don’t feel any shame…..just pure delight after years and years of battling with the Prodigal and the Face to do work, I have ONE (out of five) willing (and able) child. Yipp yippppppeeeeee. The downside?  As I typed an email reply the other evening, he sidled up to me (silently…of course) and after I had pressed ‘send’ said ‘what do you mean ‘only two hours until bed’?’

‘what do you mean, what do I mean, only two hours until bed? have YOU been reading my emails?’  Bugger. I didn’t think his reading in English was very good. That showed me.

‘yeah, I sometimes read them.’

whooops

The Lips – him and Fatty could be compared to Coyote and Roadrunner…actually, that isn’t true. FAtty isn’t fast (unless I am shouting at him to ‘STOP AND COME BACK HERE NOW!’ Ok so it could be compared to Coyote and a legless (literally and not drunk), fat roadrunner or better still, two coyotes. It is in-cess-ant. The winding winding winding up up up………….

FAtty – will soon be three. I asked him what he wants for his birthday:

‘erm…an orange hoover……a motorbike…..a poo…that’s a toy poo…..some paper….some letters. Actually, I don’t want the toy poo… I’ll have a sword instead.’

The Husband is still in Paris. The Husband is having a go at being a down and out but within the walls of a nice if bare apartment in the centre.  What I mean, is that the Husband looks like a squatter who has found a nice apartement….  Unwashed, unfed, unloved? There is no talk of the sex shop down the road this time. He may have thought about it but I doubt they’d let him in.

Sleep

Yes, I just had to get in a quick moan about my sleep situation. Even the dog refuses to listen to me now. So, I shall pick myself up from my near delierious state and say that SLEEP IS FOR GIMPS…..WIMPS……and the soon to be demented.

Ok, so I’ll probably post this UNEDITED AGAIN – one day (far off from now) I might stop chucking around commas and semi-colons and colons and full stops and be less flippant with my grammar……..but I’m making no promises.

“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.” 

Chasing my tail

06 Thursday Feb 2014

Posted by in Parenting and family

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Dear Blog,

This is what I do, every, single day:

20140206-171317.jpg

Now, the week that has been, involved :….- or should it be – Things we now know that we didnt (want to) know last week?

-little sleep. Such little sleep that my logical (?) brain decided that ‘surely we are under attack from a bad spell/demons/ evil spirits?’ Yep – it has got to that level. I know this is clearly madness (but entre nous, I asked Archangel Michael to come and clear ‘them’ out of the house anyway).

-Archangel Michael, in cleansing the house of evil, sleep eating monsters, somehow managed to sieve the kids out the mixture and they, the kids, remain (cleansed?)….. And remain the main cause of the lack of sleep.

-the Prodigal has upped his level of anti-parent, unacceptable behaviour and is literally reaching for the skies (not quite reaching Angel Michael).
We are now 3/4 of a very large, very good armagnac bottle less than we were a week ago. To think that he mixed this with apple juice must have made all previous dwellers of this ancient house, slap bang in the centre of armagnac world, groan (and rise up to keep me awake).
This bottle had been bought as a Christmas present for my father in law…. I hope that he isn’t too thirsty.

-snip snap? Not for the Prodigal. A hairdresser without scissors, is like a …. Very useless person. Not just one pair of fabulously expensive scissors but two!
‘And do you know what? A funny thing happened and you wont believe it’
‘You’re right there, Prodigal.’
‘The salon got broken into the ONE time I left my stuff there.’
‘Well, what do you know…? We don’t believe it.’

-the Prodigal (yep, still on this theme) has gone to England for the weekend. He has gone for the sole purpose of accompanying, erm..escorting his girlfriend to her prom (the Prom, which to her, is the single most important event to ever happen…. until she goes with my son and then there’ll be numerous spin off BIG events). The Possibilities OF Shit Hitting The Fan and spreading infinitely far are eeendleeeessss.
I don’t (currently) have an English Brief but I think I might start researching:
‘Ok, Google, Uk. Search for: ‘most successful defence lawyer of absolutely, for sure, definite to lose, cases.’

Meanwhile:
The Face went skiing for the day.
I got up at 6.30 to get him to school.
As I had another 160km to drive that day (demons children to various things), I stopped the car, 300m away from the school door for a quick turnaround:
‘What? Have you forgotten where my school is?’
As I shoved him out of the car and wheel span off – that moment? Well, it was the best part of the day.

Ok, as we (me and THEM are in the unheated Big Room, in February), Im signing over and out and shall post this unedited (again) and wonder.

Farewell.