When my brother was seven, all he wanted for his birthday was a toy Millenium Falcon (it's a spaceship. From Star Wars. Just in case...) My parents felt it was a very extravagant present for a small boy and said no. How they lived to regret it. Finally, when my brother was twenty-one and the Star Wars trilogy was once again in cinemas in its digitally remastered, "improved" form, Millenium Falcons were once again in the shops and my brother was bought one. It was too late. Not until his thirtieth birthday (or there abouts) when he got the Lego Death Star did you feel that the hurts of the past were finally being forgotten. (If not entirely forgiven. We'll not mention the drum kit.)
So, over the past few years, I have come to realise I have my own Millenium Falcon. When I was about fourteen, I wanted a new pair of Doc Martens. I'd inherited (I can't quite remember who from) a pair of black eight-holes but they were really starting to hurt they were falling to pieces so much (inheriting them probably means they were in my size too). I desperately wanted to replace them with a pair of eight- or ten-hole cherry reds. Desperately. However. Two things happened that stopped this. Both were my mother. First, there was a market stall that sold DMs at about 25% off full price. My mum very much wanted to get my boots from there as she thought full price DMs were a rip off and didn't believe that I would wear them for long before the fashion changed. (She was very wrong on that.) The second thing that happened was my mum not imagining me wearing my DMs but imagining her wearing them. Or something like that. And she felt that cherry reds were too statement, too out there. (Considering I ended up with a pair of gold boots from Camden a few years later...) I'd never wear them. And so, these factors combined and I was persuaded into a pair of not-quite-navy ten-holes. They were good boots. I wore them for years. I only ditched them a few years ago when I really couldn't ignore the fact that they were now very painful to wear (the soles were pretty much gone, amongst other more minor issues.)
My parents have gotten away with this (unlike the Millenium Falcon) as I don't think I've ever mentioned to them that I still think about the beautiful cherry-reds I could have had but poor Husbink hears about it on a pretty regular basis (though hasn't taken the hint I might add!). However, I've just had a birthday and been given quite a bit of money that I don't have any other particular use for. And I was just having a little browse...mmmmm!
Sunday 22 May 2011
Wednesday 18 May 2011
Circular Life
I was writing a post in my head while washing up and giving Diddy-G his milk. The more I wrote, the more familiar it seemed. And I realised that I'd written a very similar post about a year ago on the previous blog. Sigh. So here's something else circular I've noticed.
The last week or so has been a bit challenging one way and another. I've had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about super-mummies and a bit of a general grump on about "life". It's reminded me quite a bit of how I felt as a student. Life is good, life is doing what I want it to do at the moment in that I am very happy to be at home with Diddy, to have made the decision not to return to work at all (for now) and to be expecting Martian (by the way, I don't think I've said, but we found out last week, that should be "Martian-ette"!). However. I feel a little "ghetto-ised". I spend all my time with mums with children approximately the same age. We sometimes talk about "outside" things but mostly we talk about sleep, eating, illnesses, new skills, new words...(I try to avoid these last two as much as possible, they are not good for the sanity.) It's all good, I have lovely friends, but it is all the same. I love going to church on Sundays because I see other kinds of people. Older people. Younger people. Single people. And that's how I felt as a student. You spend all your time with the same kind of people. There are differences, arts versus sciences, caring versus not caring (about the study) and of course different types of personality but all approximately the same age and all doing approximately the same thing and sometimes I just had to get out.
So I'm wondering what to do now about "getting out". I know part of the reason I'm "in" is that other people, not in the same boat, find those of us in this boat pretty much insufferable. "Do you know what little darling did today? That's right, he managed to eat half his yogurt himself - that's only half that he spread over me, over his clothes, over the table, over the floor and even a little on the walls! What an improvement! How clever he is!" But there must be something that I can manage in this increasingly fat, soon to be comatose all over again while coming to terms with night feeds, zero hours sleep, blah blah blah, that in some small way doesn't entirely revolve around my child(ren)?! I have a few thoughts. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens.
(Oh and by the way, you've had a narrow escape - having realised the post I was thinking of writing was darn similar to an old one, you've escaped some minor detours into the land of wees and poos!)
The last week or so has been a bit challenging one way and another. I've had a bit of a chip on my shoulder about super-mummies and a bit of a general grump on about "life". It's reminded me quite a bit of how I felt as a student. Life is good, life is doing what I want it to do at the moment in that I am very happy to be at home with Diddy, to have made the decision not to return to work at all (for now) and to be expecting Martian (by the way, I don't think I've said, but we found out last week, that should be "Martian-ette"!). However. I feel a little "ghetto-ised". I spend all my time with mums with children approximately the same age. We sometimes talk about "outside" things but mostly we talk about sleep, eating, illnesses, new skills, new words...(I try to avoid these last two as much as possible, they are not good for the sanity.) It's all good, I have lovely friends, but it is all the same. I love going to church on Sundays because I see other kinds of people. Older people. Younger people. Single people. And that's how I felt as a student. You spend all your time with the same kind of people. There are differences, arts versus sciences, caring versus not caring (about the study) and of course different types of personality but all approximately the same age and all doing approximately the same thing and sometimes I just had to get out.
So I'm wondering what to do now about "getting out". I know part of the reason I'm "in" is that other people, not in the same boat, find those of us in this boat pretty much insufferable. "Do you know what little darling did today? That's right, he managed to eat half his yogurt himself - that's only half that he spread over me, over his clothes, over the table, over the floor and even a little on the walls! What an improvement! How clever he is!" But there must be something that I can manage in this increasingly fat, soon to be comatose all over again while coming to terms with night feeds, zero hours sleep, blah blah blah, that in some small way doesn't entirely revolve around my child(ren)?! I have a few thoughts. I'll let you know if anything interesting happens.
(Oh and by the way, you've had a narrow escape - having realised the post I was thinking of writing was darn similar to an old one, you've escaped some minor detours into the land of wees and poos!)
Wednesday 11 May 2011
Quality Parenting
I try to do something "quality" with Diddy-G every day. If we are out and about at a group, that often does the job, especially if it is a middle-class-ish-educate-your-tiny-child-class (more of that some other time I'm sure) but even if it is just running around with friends, I think that is pretty quality in terms of what is good for Diddy-G just now. Other days if we are home alone it will be things like playing with musical instruments together or doing something in the garden or some colouring or a big sit down with books or or or...
Today's act of quality parenting involved a jug, a mixing bowl, Diddy-G's stacking cups (with holes in the bottom...) and a lot of water. It was brilliant fun. Diddy-G kept looking up and beaming at me as he worked out a new thing he could do with the cups or the jug or the bowl. He spent a long time trying to pick up water between his fingers and transfer it from one place to another (fascinating to watch all the methods he built in to try to make this possible.) Of course, it was also extraordinarily messy. Diddy-G was soon utterly soaked. Really, totally soaked. The kitchen floor was not dry either. Somehow I'd arranged myself to only just marginally wet, less wet than an bathtimes, not quite sure how that was achieved. On realising just how totally soaked Diddy-G was (and regretting that I hadn't considered a swim nappy necessary for this activity) I began to wonder what really makes for quality parenting. On the one hand, Diddy-G had learnt a lot and done a lot and had a good time. On the other hand, he was wet and cold and his nappy was disintegrating. (It was interesting to see just how willing he was to get changed after this activity when normally suggesting a change of clothes is met with protests at the moment.)
I think this does come down on the quality side - we were at home and he was soon changed and warm again - but it did make me wonder if there is going to come a time when I actually have to behave a bit more responsibly around my children and not always go for the most fun option. Hmm!
Today's act of quality parenting involved a jug, a mixing bowl, Diddy-G's stacking cups (with holes in the bottom...) and a lot of water. It was brilliant fun. Diddy-G kept looking up and beaming at me as he worked out a new thing he could do with the cups or the jug or the bowl. He spent a long time trying to pick up water between his fingers and transfer it from one place to another (fascinating to watch all the methods he built in to try to make this possible.) Of course, it was also extraordinarily messy. Diddy-G was soon utterly soaked. Really, totally soaked. The kitchen floor was not dry either. Somehow I'd arranged myself to only just marginally wet, less wet than an bathtimes, not quite sure how that was achieved. On realising just how totally soaked Diddy-G was (and regretting that I hadn't considered a swim nappy necessary for this activity) I began to wonder what really makes for quality parenting. On the one hand, Diddy-G had learnt a lot and done a lot and had a good time. On the other hand, he was wet and cold and his nappy was disintegrating. (It was interesting to see just how willing he was to get changed after this activity when normally suggesting a change of clothes is met with protests at the moment.)
I think this does come down on the quality side - we were at home and he was soon changed and warm again - but it did make me wonder if there is going to come a time when I actually have to behave a bit more responsibly around my children and not always go for the most fun option. Hmm!
Friday 6 May 2011
Politics
I'm not desperately political. I think at least in part because there isn't a party that I feel I would really like to align myself too. I'm often very opinionated but I have learnt that my opinions are rarely black and white these days and that they do often genuinely shift with time. Thus I don't feel like shouting about them quite as much as I used to.
Here are my questions for the day, following yesterday's elections and various bits of TV, radio and web comment from the last twelve hours or so...
What do people think would be gained from ousting Nick Clegg? And who would want to take over from him anyway? Is he really the bogie monster?
Is it actually feasible for Scotland to be an independent nation? (Don't read an opinion into that, I'm genuinely curious because my understanding would be that their economy couldn't do it but I'm sure those in the know know more than me!)
Here are my questions for the day, following yesterday's elections and various bits of TV, radio and web comment from the last twelve hours or so...
What do people think would be gained from ousting Nick Clegg? And who would want to take over from him anyway? Is he really the bogie monster?
Is it actually feasible for Scotland to be an independent nation? (Don't read an opinion into that, I'm genuinely curious because my understanding would be that their economy couldn't do it but I'm sure those in the know know more than me!)
Wednesday 4 May 2011
What's a brain?
Last night, Husbink wanted to practice the lecture he was due to give this morning on me. I wasn't really in the on zone for a lecture Advanced Life Support and specifically Acute Coronary Syndromes but what can you do?
Turns out, it was really interesting. Really, really interesting. More interesting than it should have been. I've picked up a reasonable amount over the last few years in terms of terminology and so on partly just from hearing about Husbink's day and partly from helping him revise. (There was a point when he thought I had as good a chance as him of passing one particular MCQ exam. This was not true.) I could follow most of the lecture fairly well and by the time I was hearing it for the second time through, actually had some (vaguely) intelligent questions to ask. (ECGs really don't make sense to me though on the amount I know about them currently.)
It was nice to be taught something. I had forgotten a bit that when people witter on about learning styles and how classrooms/lecture theatres need to develop new techniques etc etc etc the reason I think of it as "wittering" is because actually, being lectured to really suits me. So I can probably still tell you most of what Husbink said even though a reasonable bit of it (those pesky ECGs and something called ST or non-ST elevation were the bits that really foxed me) made no real sense at all.
It also slightly alarmed me that I actually found the content really interesting. Not in just a passing "ooh right" sort of way but in a really, really interesting sort of way. I refuse to allow this to be the start of the slippery slope to Husbink being right. (That would be being right when he tries to persuade me to follow in his footsteps career-wise.)
Nice to have a brain though, if only briefly.
Turns out, it was really interesting. Really, really interesting. More interesting than it should have been. I've picked up a reasonable amount over the last few years in terms of terminology and so on partly just from hearing about Husbink's day and partly from helping him revise. (There was a point when he thought I had as good a chance as him of passing one particular MCQ exam. This was not true.) I could follow most of the lecture fairly well and by the time I was hearing it for the second time through, actually had some (vaguely) intelligent questions to ask. (ECGs really don't make sense to me though on the amount I know about them currently.)
It was nice to be taught something. I had forgotten a bit that when people witter on about learning styles and how classrooms/lecture theatres need to develop new techniques etc etc etc the reason I think of it as "wittering" is because actually, being lectured to really suits me. So I can probably still tell you most of what Husbink said even though a reasonable bit of it (those pesky ECGs and something called ST or non-ST elevation were the bits that really foxed me) made no real sense at all.
It also slightly alarmed me that I actually found the content really interesting. Not in just a passing "ooh right" sort of way but in a really, really interesting sort of way. I refuse to allow this to be the start of the slippery slope to Husbink being right. (That would be being right when he tries to persuade me to follow in his footsteps career-wise.)
Nice to have a brain though, if only briefly.
Sunday 1 May 2011
The things you pass on
What?! Day two, post two?! Shocking! Don't expect it to last!
Anyway. :)
Those of you who have met Diddy-G will know that he is a mini-Husbink, not a mini-me. There are times when he looks like my brother or my uncle or my cousin but only the briefest of moments when he looks anything much at all like me. Which is not a problem - though I do find it interesting when people make comments like "my goodness, I didn't realise til I met Husbink...he's the spitting image! ... Of course, Diddy-G looks like you too!" No, he doesn't.
But I have passed on other things to my son...
This weekend has been a bit tough. It's been about ten days since it's been just me and Diddy-G all day long but that's what we had on Friday. Husbink is on long days so leaves the house just before 7am and gets home sometime around 9pm. He doesn't see Diddy-G at all (except sneaking in for a bedtime kiss) and they both hate it. The only adult I spoke to on Friday was the check out lady at Tesco early in the morning. Add to that Diddy-G deciding not to really bother with a nap and we had on our hands the perfect recipe for an awful afternoon. However. The trait I'm currently aware of having passed on to my son is the desire to make people laugh. For him at the moment, it is really just a desire to make me laugh (since for a little longer at least, I really am the centre of his universe). So as the afternoon wore on, he started to be the clown. Rushing about, jumping out at me, squashing his face on the patio doors while I was the other side of them. And mimicking me. Particularly when it came to sitting down pregnant-stylee (collapse, sigh, rub whichever bit aches now, close eyes...). So then I would ham up my own sitting to make him laugh and he'd ham up his imitation...and so it went on. Instead of reaching bedtime utterly desperate to be rid of the monster, we just had a nice relaxed time with more giggles. I can't say I wasn't glad when he was in bed so I could put my feet up and sigh dramatically in peace but still, I'm glad he's caught this one off me. It makes him a whole heap of fun to be around. Sometimes!
Anyway. :)
Those of you who have met Diddy-G will know that he is a mini-Husbink, not a mini-me. There are times when he looks like my brother or my uncle or my cousin but only the briefest of moments when he looks anything much at all like me. Which is not a problem - though I do find it interesting when people make comments like "my goodness, I didn't realise til I met Husbink...he's the spitting image! ... Of course, Diddy-G looks like you too!" No, he doesn't.
But I have passed on other things to my son...
This weekend has been a bit tough. It's been about ten days since it's been just me and Diddy-G all day long but that's what we had on Friday. Husbink is on long days so leaves the house just before 7am and gets home sometime around 9pm. He doesn't see Diddy-G at all (except sneaking in for a bedtime kiss) and they both hate it. The only adult I spoke to on Friday was the check out lady at Tesco early in the morning. Add to that Diddy-G deciding not to really bother with a nap and we had on our hands the perfect recipe for an awful afternoon. However. The trait I'm currently aware of having passed on to my son is the desire to make people laugh. For him at the moment, it is really just a desire to make me laugh (since for a little longer at least, I really am the centre of his universe). So as the afternoon wore on, he started to be the clown. Rushing about, jumping out at me, squashing his face on the patio doors while I was the other side of them. And mimicking me. Particularly when it came to sitting down pregnant-stylee (collapse, sigh, rub whichever bit aches now, close eyes...). So then I would ham up my own sitting to make him laugh and he'd ham up his imitation...and so it went on. Instead of reaching bedtime utterly desperate to be rid of the monster, we just had a nice relaxed time with more giggles. I can't say I wasn't glad when he was in bed so I could put my feet up and sigh dramatically in peace but still, I'm glad he's caught this one off me. It makes him a whole heap of fun to be around. Sometimes!
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