Only day three of the school holidays and already I'm not sure I can take it. Despite several trips to the barn to do chores and feed lambs, an expensive trip to the book store, another to McDonald's and the ice cream store, I am still battling a chorus of the "I'm boreds". I can't even take off and leave the little bastards stranded, because Lindsay has my van.
This morning was a little livelier, when I hear a crash in the chimney and a starling flies out into the family room, where I am working. I start screeching a warning "Bird in the house, BIRD IN THE HOUSE" , but no one comes running. Meanwhile the poor bird is hitting windows left, right and centre, while I rush around opening doors and yelling for the kids. I found out afterwards, they are all ignoring me because they think they are in trouble. How "Bird in the house" translates to "You're in trouble" is beyond me. Not to mention, if they are in trouble, ignoring me is guaranteed not to improve their situation.
Finally Grady ventures downstairs only to have the bird dive bomb his head as it flies upstairs. He screams "Holy Crap!" and hits the deck, while I'm yelling at him to open the back door. By the time I make it upstairs the girls have joined the fray and Sid, as useful as ever is calling out directions, but the bird can fly faster than she can speak, so by the time we get to the last known position, the bird has already moved on. I finally corner it in the window in the sun-room and with ninja like stealth I balance unsteadily between the settee and DVD stand and pounce. Grady is in the background, yelling "Don't hurt the bird, don't hurt the bird". Sidney is screaming and the bog is barking. Lindsay has only just got up, so she isn't doing much of anything. The only difference between me and the trapped bird is that he will soon be free!
The last time this happened, I made the mistake of hesitating while the kids took a closer look at the bird and it took that opportunity to escape. I am wiser this time, and despite entreaties to the contrary, as soon as I got that bird in my hand, I headed straight for the back door and let it go. All this on only one cup of coffee !
Monday 30 June 2014
Friday 27 June 2014
My Children Are Morons
Actually this is more geared towards my son, but the girls play a part too.
Example # 1: I had received a fancy new blender and Grady wanted to make a banana & strawberry smoothie. After Rob leads him through the process Grady has one question "Do I have to peel the banana first?" Seriously ?
Example #2: The phone rings, Sid & Grady both yell they are going to answer it, and set off in hot pursuit of a phone. They each grab a receiver about the same time, and then start squabbling over who answered it first, each yelling at the other to hang up. Two minutes later the phone rings again, this time I grab it up - issuing death threats to my offspring. It is my husband. "What the hell is going on?" he growled. Really, he should know better than to ask that. He continued "Grady & Sid both picked up phone, yelled and screamed and then hung up on me". That's right, after a fight to the death over who answers the phone, neither one stayed on it long enough to take actually take the call.
I have 10 weeks of this. I may not make it.
Example # 1: I had received a fancy new blender and Grady wanted to make a banana & strawberry smoothie. After Rob leads him through the process Grady has one question "Do I have to peel the banana first?" Seriously ?
Example #2: The phone rings, Sid & Grady both yell they are going to answer it, and set off in hot pursuit of a phone. They each grab a receiver about the same time, and then start squabbling over who answered it first, each yelling at the other to hang up. Two minutes later the phone rings again, this time I grab it up - issuing death threats to my offspring. It is my husband. "What the hell is going on?" he growled. Really, he should know better than to ask that. He continued "Grady & Sid both picked up phone, yelled and screamed and then hung up on me". That's right, after a fight to the death over who answers the phone, neither one stayed on it long enough to take actually take the call.
I have 10 weeks of this. I may not make it.
Wednesday 25 June 2014
Fruit Ninja
An alternative title to this post would be "Boys Are Idiots". Men may take exception to this comment, but mothers of those boys I'm sure will wholeheartedly agree.
Case in point, last Friday. The evening of Lindsay's 17th birthday party. I had hoped the parties would come to a grinding halt after her Sweet 16 shindig last year, but that is beside the point. So at the party we have about 10 girls and a few boyfriends thrown in, between 16 and 18 years of age. All well behaved I should add.
Later in the evening we had to go and feed the lambs, and before I left I reminded Lindsay about the no alcohol rule. Little did I know it was Grady I should have been reading the riot act too. All was quiet when we returned, but then I noticed that Grady was sporting a large cut above his eyebrow. "What happened to you ?" I asked in concern. "Oh, nothing" he replied, entirely too nonchalant for my liking. He wiped off the cut, and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Mmmm, strawberry" he murmured. My spidey senses are on full alert now. "How did you manage to get strawberry on your eyebrow" I asked suspiciously ? "Oh" he replied as if this were an everyday occurrence, "We were using strawberries for batting practice". "Don't worry," he added, "We only used the moldy ones, and it was a plastic bat". I know for a fact there weren't any moldy strawberries, but I let that go. I should have guessed there was more to this story and there was.
Later on as Rob and I are sitting in the sun room (we had been ousted from everywhere else) I heard some of the kids talking outside, "That Fruit Ninja was fun" I heard. Spidey senses tingling again, I called everyone in for a Q & A. "What exactly do you mean by Fruit Ninja ?", I quizzed as the guys stood there shuffling their feet, no one brave enough to make eye contact. Finally one caved and said "We were using Grady's machete to chop fruit". Are you kidding me ? More confident, another pipes up "Yes, we got it on video, want to see?" Sure enough those boys who should have known better, have filmed themselves wielding Grady's machete (another story entirely, blame it on his father) at the contents of my vegetable crisper. So much for the plastic bat ! To think I was concerned that one of them would swipe a beer underage. I obviously still have a lot to learn.
Case in point, last Friday. The evening of Lindsay's 17th birthday party. I had hoped the parties would come to a grinding halt after her Sweet 16 shindig last year, but that is beside the point. So at the party we have about 10 girls and a few boyfriends thrown in, between 16 and 18 years of age. All well behaved I should add.
Later in the evening we had to go and feed the lambs, and before I left I reminded Lindsay about the no alcohol rule. Little did I know it was Grady I should have been reading the riot act too. All was quiet when we returned, but then I noticed that Grady was sporting a large cut above his eyebrow. "What happened to you ?" I asked in concern. "Oh, nothing" he replied, entirely too nonchalant for my liking. He wiped off the cut, and stuck his finger in his mouth. "Mmmm, strawberry" he murmured. My spidey senses are on full alert now. "How did you manage to get strawberry on your eyebrow" I asked suspiciously ? "Oh" he replied as if this were an everyday occurrence, "We were using strawberries for batting practice". "Don't worry," he added, "We only used the moldy ones, and it was a plastic bat". I know for a fact there weren't any moldy strawberries, but I let that go. I should have guessed there was more to this story and there was.
Later on as Rob and I are sitting in the sun room (we had been ousted from everywhere else) I heard some of the kids talking outside, "That Fruit Ninja was fun" I heard. Spidey senses tingling again, I called everyone in for a Q & A. "What exactly do you mean by Fruit Ninja ?", I quizzed as the guys stood there shuffling their feet, no one brave enough to make eye contact. Finally one caved and said "We were using Grady's machete to chop fruit". Are you kidding me ? More confident, another pipes up "Yes, we got it on video, want to see?" Sure enough those boys who should have known better, have filmed themselves wielding Grady's machete (another story entirely, blame it on his father) at the contents of my vegetable crisper. So much for the plastic bat ! To think I was concerned that one of them would swipe a beer underage. I obviously still have a lot to learn.
Monday 23 June 2014
Chariot Of Fire
My eldest daughter received her driver's license last week. I am thrilled. Throughout the time she was practicing, she insisted on using her father's car. Apparently my van was too dirty - true, it is hard to keep it clean, when I'm making 2 trips a day to the barn; too smelly - also true, all the riding gear is stowed in the back and the vehicle is constantly permeated with the pungent odour of horse sweat and sheep shit. Nor did she like the dents - I have yet to get the repairs completed from when I picked the fight with the bulldozer, and finally the real reason for her preference for her father's car over my vehicle - driving a minivan just isn't cool.
This mentality changed abruptly as soon as she had her new licence in her hot little hand. I received a call from her as she stood in line at the licence office. "Hi mum, can I borrow the van when I get home?". "I thought you didn't like my van, in fact you were very rude about it". I wasn't about to let her off that easily. It would appear, now she has given it some thought, she realizes that if she holds out for Rob to get home with his car, her freedom will be severely curtailed. No spontaneous trips to the mall, no impromptu visits to Tim's, or horror of horrors no lunch at McDonalds with Zach.
So in the span of a few short minutes, my van has gone from being the "Disgusting Barn Mobile" to a veritable "Chariot Of Fire". On the plus side, she is now so desperate to drive, that she is willing to do almost anything for the privilege. My previously grey hairs that she took great delight in pointing out, have suddenly become "blonde highlights", and whereas before a joke would be met with an eye roll, it she now finds it side splittingly funny. Does she think I'm really that gullible?. Either way, I have big plans for her this summer. I haven't wielded this much power since she was in diapers.
Friday 20 June 2014
Let's Get Naked !
I thought that would catch your attention. We are babysitting Simon and Eliot tonight. I'm not sure why their mother continues to entrust them to our care (the very first time Eliot visited the kids dressed him in Build-A-Bear clothes and Grady taught him to play fetch with the dog ball) but I can only assume desperate measures and all that. Tonight my children are positively giddy with the thought of the last day of school tomorrow and their high jinks are contagious. I'm giddy too, but mine is more a nauseating giddiness, born of the dread of the omnipresent ten weeks of summer holidays looming over me.
So, tonight I have to pop out to run an errand. As I leave the house both the boys plus my own children are lined up on the couch watching TV, with Lindsay supervising. I am not gone long, but imagine my surprise when I returned, only to find a whole gaggle of children and teens congregated in the driveway. It would appear they multiplied like rabbits. Apparently it started innocently with Simon and Eliot chalking the driveway, but quickly degenerated to a water fight. This was when the "Let's get naked" chant began. Eliot was down to his underwear (which I should mention were on backwards) in no time flat, and was steadfastly encouraging the others to do the same. Fortunately, common sense prevailed and the others remained clothed. One partially naked, soaking wet child crawling through the undergrowth was enough.
It was actually Grady that came in and alerted me to the fact the party had gone off the rails. "You do know that Eliot is running around in his underwear" he muttered. "What are you going to do about it?". Talk about the fun police. My initial reaction was "For God's sake, don't tell his mother", then I realised I'd be giving up a blog opportunity,
It was actually Grady that came in and alerted me to the fact the party had gone off the rails. "You do know that Eliot is running around in his underwear" he muttered. "What are you going to do about it?". Talk about the fun police. My initial reaction was "For God's sake, don't tell his mother", then I realised I'd be giving up a blog opportunity,
The house across the street has finally sold, but those poor buggers have no idea what they are in for.
Wednesday 18 June 2014
For Animal LOvers Only
"I have three pot bellied pigs in the house right now, I rescued them. One has a skin problem and needs cream on it every day, another has to be hand fed as he is such a pig he chokes. I have two dogs, one was a puppy mill for ten years so she has anxiety issues, the other hates animals and people. Also seven cats, three who are so fat they don't do anything. One is a sphinx, he has no hair so he has to have a heated bed. He hates me because I have cold hands and another cat, who when he was a kitten ate his brother. His name is Dave but we call him Dahmer"
No I have not lost my mind, this was one of the many texts I have received from an animal loving friend of mine who shall rename nameless. She has graciously allowed me to relate her tales in my blog - but only if she remained anonymous. I am pretty sure mutual friends will guess her identity, but I have done my part.
She also has a horse, who had a difficult birth and his brain was deprived of oxygen. He is a very sweet tempered horse, but unfortunately has a tendency to get lost between the paddocks and the barn, and can often been seen wandering around in circles.
This was another text that arrived sometime during the night ..." One my way to emergency vet. Cat thought he could fly. Jumped off the stair bannister, taking a shelf with him which whacked out his front teeth and split open his nose". I'm happy to report, the cat is now doing fine. As long as he doesn't smile, you'd never know there was anything wrong.
Finally, my personal favourite "I think I may actually be going insane. Last night at 3:00 A.M. I got up and was looking for my long haired orange cat, because he had escaped from my room. I looked everywhere, but couldn't find him so went back to bed. This morning my mum asked "What the hell were you doing upstairs at 3:00 A.M.?" (I have a basement apartment) so I went to explain, and then I realised I don't have a long haired orange cat ....".
No I have not lost my mind, this was one of the many texts I have received from an animal loving friend of mine who shall rename nameless. She has graciously allowed me to relate her tales in my blog - but only if she remained anonymous. I am pretty sure mutual friends will guess her identity, but I have done my part.
She also has a horse, who had a difficult birth and his brain was deprived of oxygen. He is a very sweet tempered horse, but unfortunately has a tendency to get lost between the paddocks and the barn, and can often been seen wandering around in circles.
This was another text that arrived sometime during the night ..." One my way to emergency vet. Cat thought he could fly. Jumped off the stair bannister, taking a shelf with him which whacked out his front teeth and split open his nose". I'm happy to report, the cat is now doing fine. As long as he doesn't smile, you'd never know there was anything wrong.
Finally, my personal favourite "I think I may actually be going insane. Last night at 3:00 A.M. I got up and was looking for my long haired orange cat, because he had escaped from my room. I looked everywhere, but couldn't find him so went back to bed. This morning my mum asked "What the hell were you doing upstairs at 3:00 A.M.?" (I have a basement apartment) so I went to explain, and then I realised I don't have a long haired orange cat ....".
Monday 16 June 2014
Fun At The Farm
This post goes out to my fellow barners, Laurie & Shari and to Alyssia the long suffering barn manager.
We have been feeding the lambs, and the other evening before we ventured up we received a slightly panicked call from Alyssia. It turned out that two of the ponies - Ludwig and Thistle - had broken out of the paddock, and gained access to the barn. Once there, Thistle had managed to open the freezer where the grain is stored and the two of them had a feast. The only problem was, part of what they consumed was lamb grain - great for lambs, not so much for horses, as it could cause serious complications. Alyssia had rung her vet - who promptly put her on hold, no doubt to laugh at her latest in a long line of predicaments - but eventually gave her a list of signs to look out for; laboured breathing, unsteadiness, bloating, and so on.
She had isolated the two of them in the front paddock, so it would be easy to monitor them. They seemed to be perfectly fine when we checked on them, not so impressed to have a spotlight shined on them, but otherwise OK.
The next day when we arrived for the lunch time feeding, I noticed immediately something was different. Thistle was on the other side of the fence, outside of the paddock. They both seemed healthy, so Rob called Alyssia and suggested we put them back with the herd, and that was when the fun began.
Imagine if you can, two adults, one teenager and two children, all of which have a fair amount of experience with horses. We are squaring off against two ponies - the first small, and blind in one eye, and the other a Shetland, smaller still and over 25 years old. I can tell you now it wasn't pretty.
As soon as Rob opened the gate, he was sideswiped by Ludwig who made a beeline for the barn. Sid, unaware of what was happening with the ponies, had already let the lambs out, and they were seconds from being bowled over in the courtyard. I managed to get between Ludwig and the lambs, and he veered into the barn, as Sid launched herself out of his way.
Rob is yelling at Grady to open the gate to the paddock, but he has no intention of getting off the fence where he climbed as Ludwig barreled past him. Lindsay has gone to the tack room to grab the lunge whip and chases Ludwig back out. I am still hovering protectively between Ludwig and the lambs, hoping that when the end comes it will be quick.
Rob has recovered by this time and has made his way to the gate. He attempts to open it and push Ludwig through, however the horses on the other side had other ideas and performed a full on assault on the gate. Rob gives a strangled cry for help, but he is on his own. By this time Thistle has done a duck and roll under another fence- which explains how he got out in the first place - and has joined in the fray. Lindsay tries to head him off but he takes off like a rocket - as only a fat Shetland pony can do - and heads back for the front paddock. Lindsay follows in hot pursuit, as I holler encouragement from the sidelines still trying to keep the four lambs corralled. Pandemonium doesn't begin to describe it. There is a friggin' herd of 20 plus horses just waiting to break out and we're playing twister with two bloody ponies.
I'm happy to say we eventually got them back where they belonged. I can't say it was done with any finesse but we got the job done. Lesson learned, never underestimate decrepit old ponies.
We have been feeding the lambs, and the other evening before we ventured up we received a slightly panicked call from Alyssia. It turned out that two of the ponies - Ludwig and Thistle - had broken out of the paddock, and gained access to the barn. Once there, Thistle had managed to open the freezer where the grain is stored and the two of them had a feast. The only problem was, part of what they consumed was lamb grain - great for lambs, not so much for horses, as it could cause serious complications. Alyssia had rung her vet - who promptly put her on hold, no doubt to laugh at her latest in a long line of predicaments - but eventually gave her a list of signs to look out for; laboured breathing, unsteadiness, bloating, and so on.
She had isolated the two of them in the front paddock, so it would be easy to monitor them. They seemed to be perfectly fine when we checked on them, not so impressed to have a spotlight shined on them, but otherwise OK.
The next day when we arrived for the lunch time feeding, I noticed immediately something was different. Thistle was on the other side of the fence, outside of the paddock. They both seemed healthy, so Rob called Alyssia and suggested we put them back with the herd, and that was when the fun began.
Imagine if you can, two adults, one teenager and two children, all of which have a fair amount of experience with horses. We are squaring off against two ponies - the first small, and blind in one eye, and the other a Shetland, smaller still and over 25 years old. I can tell you now it wasn't pretty.
As soon as Rob opened the gate, he was sideswiped by Ludwig who made a beeline for the barn. Sid, unaware of what was happening with the ponies, had already let the lambs out, and they were seconds from being bowled over in the courtyard. I managed to get between Ludwig and the lambs, and he veered into the barn, as Sid launched herself out of his way.
Rob is yelling at Grady to open the gate to the paddock, but he has no intention of getting off the fence where he climbed as Ludwig barreled past him. Lindsay has gone to the tack room to grab the lunge whip and chases Ludwig back out. I am still hovering protectively between Ludwig and the lambs, hoping that when the end comes it will be quick.
Rob has recovered by this time and has made his way to the gate. He attempts to open it and push Ludwig through, however the horses on the other side had other ideas and performed a full on assault on the gate. Rob gives a strangled cry for help, but he is on his own. By this time Thistle has done a duck and roll under another fence- which explains how he got out in the first place - and has joined in the fray. Lindsay tries to head him off but he takes off like a rocket - as only a fat Shetland pony can do - and heads back for the front paddock. Lindsay follows in hot pursuit, as I holler encouragement from the sidelines still trying to keep the four lambs corralled. Pandemonium doesn't begin to describe it. There is a friggin' herd of 20 plus horses just waiting to break out and we're playing twister with two bloody ponies.
I'm happy to say we eventually got them back where they belonged. I can't say it was done with any finesse but we got the job done. Lesson learned, never underestimate decrepit old ponies.
Friday 13 June 2014
For Alison
Sid needed a hair cut, but she decided that the usual location, "Little Tots" with the fire engine chairs was far too juvenile and insisted on going to Lindsay's hair salon instead. Alison who owns the salon is a faithful follower of my blog, and Lindsay told me how how much Alison was extolling the virtues of my blog to another customer. "At first..." Alison began, "...you think she must be making some of these things up, but then when you meet the family, you understand". I will take that as a compliment !
Sadly tho', Alison is spot on. My family gives a whole new definition to normal. Last weekend Rob asked if the kids would help him at lunchtime, as I was going to be out. Sid, assuming the request was for assistance in feeding the lambs (which it actually was) shot her hand up right away, only to Rob decided to have a bit of fun at her expense, and proceeded to tell her that she was going to have to vacuum the house, clean the bathroom and wash the windows. With each new task he outlined, Sid's jaw dropped lower, as the horror of her predicament dawned. It was at that point Grady leaned over and in a loud whisper he told her "See ? That is precisely why I never volunteer for anything". I think his parting shot was "Sucker", but it was masked by the sudden intake of breath as Sid delivered a well aimed blow to his ribs.
Like Alison said, ".. when you meet the family, you understand."
Sadly tho', Alison is spot on. My family gives a whole new definition to normal. Last weekend Rob asked if the kids would help him at lunchtime, as I was going to be out. Sid, assuming the request was for assistance in feeding the lambs (which it actually was) shot her hand up right away, only to Rob decided to have a bit of fun at her expense, and proceeded to tell her that she was going to have to vacuum the house, clean the bathroom and wash the windows. With each new task he outlined, Sid's jaw dropped lower, as the horror of her predicament dawned. It was at that point Grady leaned over and in a loud whisper he told her "See ? That is precisely why I never volunteer for anything". I think his parting shot was "Sucker", but it was masked by the sudden intake of breath as Sid delivered a well aimed blow to his ribs.
Like Alison said, ".. when you meet the family, you understand."
Wednesday 11 June 2014
What Are They Thinking ?
Explanation: This was drafted a few weeks and then forgotten. We were still in grips of winter, unlike now when it is spring and pouring with rain everyday.
I know there is a conspiracy when it comes to Thursdays. Why should the latest be any different ? Sid remembers at the last minute she has a current event due that day. I have to say my kids' teachers are amazing, but with all due respect I heartily abhor current events. I understand the reason for them, but trying to find kid friendly articles in today's papers is damn near impossible.
This month's (at least they are no longer weekly) topic was weather. Now that would have been easy just a couple of weeks ago, when here in the frozen North we were still in the grips of one of the longest coldest winters in living memory, or when the UK was suffering from catastrophic flooding. Back then, we could have found numerous articles about the weather, but this week not so much.
I finally find an article about a woman who almost froze to death in a snow bank. That word "almost" is key here, it means she survived, so happy ending - ergo suitable for classroom discussion. I am clutching at straws here. I toss the article at Sid and tell her to get writing.
Probably the only thing I dislike more than current events is the science fair. This year the school has decided to change things up and have an invention fair instead. The children are tasked with inventing an Eco-friendly gadget. WTF ? Seriously ? Sid doesn't have a clue what she wants to do (and quite honestly neither do her parents) however Grady is bound and determined to invent something that combines Lego and rocket fuel. I'm not sure how that one is going to pan out, but I'm guessing badly.
Post Script: The invention Fair was a veritable success. The school is still standing, and we talked Grady out of using rocket fuel and raw uranium.
Monday 9 June 2014
Do As I Say, Not As I Do.
Sometimes my ideas border on sheer genius, and then there are others that leave me shaking my head and wondering WTF was I thinking. Sometimes I just shouldn't - think that is. This week was one of those times.
One morning I just grew tired of the insults being hurled back and forth between my children and decided to institute a new rule. I don't have many rules, there is really only one, "Do as I say and don't argue". That is what is known as blanket coverage, and on the whole, if accompanied by a threatening look, is more than sufficient. This week however I thought of a brilliant idea, and told my offspring that every time they said something rude or unkind about their siblings, they had to think of three nice things to say as well.
I was very pleased with this concept and was quietly congratulating myself. This was just the start of something bigger, grandiose plans of world peace started to form. I let my imagination get the better of me. I'm wasted here, I had visions of heading up the United Nations. Trust my children to bring me back down to earth with a crash.
Sid uttered the first transgression as we left for school. She told her brother he was stupid - on this particular occasion I happened to agree wholeheartedly, but I bit my tongue and insisted she think of three nice things to say about Grady. This took the remaining journey to school, as Sid racked her brains trying to think of something that wouldn't get her into more trouble. After a particularly long and painful pause in the school parking lot - where I wouldn't let them out of the van - she finally pronounced her third compliment, only to mutter mutinously under her breath as she slammed the door "..but he's still stupid". I could see this would not proceed as smoothly as planned.
Flash forward a few days, and I have all but given up. According to Grady, Sid owes him sixty six compliments. If she cant think of three, sixty six is going to be damn near impossible. I think she realises that too, because she has given up insulting hm and just clobbers him instead, when she wants to make her point. The one upside of this is that Grady can now count by threes and he has learned how to duck.
I have not escaped unscathed. The kids aren't the only family members who have had to retort with compliments. There have been a few occasions where a slip of the tongue, has resulted me in having to do the same myself. I thought I had this covered when I combed through my thesaurus and resorted to throwing around terms like "termagant", "obstreperous" and "vexatious". Grady called me out tho' when he told me "You can use all the long words you want mum. We may not know what they mean, but we know you are still being rude". Damn, I was so close.
Goodbye, world peace. Farewell, United Nations.
One morning I just grew tired of the insults being hurled back and forth between my children and decided to institute a new rule. I don't have many rules, there is really only one, "Do as I say and don't argue". That is what is known as blanket coverage, and on the whole, if accompanied by a threatening look, is more than sufficient. This week however I thought of a brilliant idea, and told my offspring that every time they said something rude or unkind about their siblings, they had to think of three nice things to say as well.
I was very pleased with this concept and was quietly congratulating myself. This was just the start of something bigger, grandiose plans of world peace started to form. I let my imagination get the better of me. I'm wasted here, I had visions of heading up the United Nations. Trust my children to bring me back down to earth with a crash.
Sid uttered the first transgression as we left for school. She told her brother he was stupid - on this particular occasion I happened to agree wholeheartedly, but I bit my tongue and insisted she think of three nice things to say about Grady. This took the remaining journey to school, as Sid racked her brains trying to think of something that wouldn't get her into more trouble. After a particularly long and painful pause in the school parking lot - where I wouldn't let them out of the van - she finally pronounced her third compliment, only to mutter mutinously under her breath as she slammed the door "..but he's still stupid". I could see this would not proceed as smoothly as planned.
Flash forward a few days, and I have all but given up. According to Grady, Sid owes him sixty six compliments. If she cant think of three, sixty six is going to be damn near impossible. I think she realises that too, because she has given up insulting hm and just clobbers him instead, when she wants to make her point. The one upside of this is that Grady can now count by threes and he has learned how to duck.
I have not escaped unscathed. The kids aren't the only family members who have had to retort with compliments. There have been a few occasions where a slip of the tongue, has resulted me in having to do the same myself. I thought I had this covered when I combed through my thesaurus and resorted to throwing around terms like "termagant", "obstreperous" and "vexatious". Grady called me out tho' when he told me "You can use all the long words you want mum. We may not know what they mean, but we know you are still being rude". Damn, I was so close.
Goodbye, world peace. Farewell, United Nations.
Friday 6 June 2014
Long Suffering
Despite the title, this post is not about my husband. This is a little tale from my sister, and I may take a bit of unintentional poetic license, but only because I did not hear about this event firsthand. Instead, I received a phone call from Sister #1, who had received an email from Sister #2, telling her to talk to Sister #3 (in the U.K.) and have her tell her the story about the funny phone call. Not sure why Sister # 2 couldn't just tell Sister #1 the story outright, but that is how we communicate - long winded and convoluted.
Eventually I heard the story from Sister #2, and now that I am about blogging it, Sister #1 will finally hear about it, and Sister #3 can chime in and correct me if I have anything wrong. Trust me, two sisters were teachers, as was my father, so I have spent my whole life being corrected by someone!
A year or so ago, or even longer, my sister was involved in a minor fender bender. Everything was sorted out and the matter was finished, or so she thought. A little while ago, she started receiving somewhat dubious phone calls from India, whereby a man referring to her accident kept encouraging her to claim compensation. My sister, suspicious of the nature and origin of these calls, insisted that she didn't need compensation. Then they asked if her husband needed compensation, again, the answer was no. Whoever was behind this was very persistent, and my sister continued to receive these calls on a frequent basis. Finally she had had enough and told the caller in no uncertain terms she didn't want compensation and they were to stop calling. He replied that the calls would continue until she agreed to claim compensation.
My irate sister insisted on talking to the manager, who upon taking her request proceeded to ask why she was so antagonistic, (or perhaps it was aggressive). My sister explained she was fed up with the calls, wanted them to cease and she didn't want compensation. The manager asked if she was suffering, and she answered no. He then asked if her husband was suffering, again she answered no. At that point the manager retorted "Yes, he is suffering, because he lives with you, and if I had to live with you I'd kick you". I kid you not, my sister was gobsmacked. Although to be fair, we have all told her the same thing at some point over the years.
I'm not sure what is going to happen next, but I do know one thing, there is a call center manager in India, who had better start sleeping with one eye open.
Eventually I heard the story from Sister #2, and now that I am about blogging it, Sister #1 will finally hear about it, and Sister #3 can chime in and correct me if I have anything wrong. Trust me, two sisters were teachers, as was my father, so I have spent my whole life being corrected by someone!
A year or so ago, or even longer, my sister was involved in a minor fender bender. Everything was sorted out and the matter was finished, or so she thought. A little while ago, she started receiving somewhat dubious phone calls from India, whereby a man referring to her accident kept encouraging her to claim compensation. My sister, suspicious of the nature and origin of these calls, insisted that she didn't need compensation. Then they asked if her husband needed compensation, again, the answer was no. Whoever was behind this was very persistent, and my sister continued to receive these calls on a frequent basis. Finally she had had enough and told the caller in no uncertain terms she didn't want compensation and they were to stop calling. He replied that the calls would continue until she agreed to claim compensation.
My irate sister insisted on talking to the manager, who upon taking her request proceeded to ask why she was so antagonistic, (or perhaps it was aggressive). My sister explained she was fed up with the calls, wanted them to cease and she didn't want compensation. The manager asked if she was suffering, and she answered no. He then asked if her husband was suffering, again she answered no. At that point the manager retorted "Yes, he is suffering, because he lives with you, and if I had to live with you I'd kick you". I kid you not, my sister was gobsmacked. Although to be fair, we have all told her the same thing at some point over the years.
I'm not sure what is going to happen next, but I do know one thing, there is a call center manager in India, who had better start sleeping with one eye open.
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